Hi all! First off, thanks to all the reviews that keep coming in for my story. I truly appreciate each and every one of them! So glad you are enjoying the story. I tried to get to this chapter late May/early June, but work just wouldn't allow it. Things are slowing down for the month so I was finally able to work on it. Yay! There's action in this chapter, but not really any Sam...he's there, just very sleepy :D I promise though that the next chapter will be very Sam heavy. So, how about we get on with the story!

Cindy

"Dad."

John nodded as he pushed into the room, his dark eyes immediately moving to the bed furthest from the door. "How's your brother?" he asked, his duffel bag landing with a soft thud on the thick carpet.

"He's doing okay, I guess. Pretty scared though…same as Dean and me," Daniel answered in a rushed whisper. He glanced over at the other bed where Dean was pulling himself up, his green eyes blinking then widening when he saw his father standing at the foot of the bed.

"Dad…you're here," Dean said as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

John smiled in the dim light and moved toward Sam's bed. "I made good time," he answered with a shrug. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to gently finger a bruise on Sam's cheek. "He been sleeping a lot?"

"I gave him some pain pills a few hours ago. Kid didn't want them, but I could tell he was hurting," Dean answered as his gaze shifted from his father to his baby brother.

"Good. He should be out for awhile. Will give us a chance to talk," John said. He rose from the bed and moved to the counter where a fresh pot of coffee sat waiting. He poured himself a cup then turned to his sons.

"What did Caleb find out? Anything?" Daniel asked softly.

"Why don't you both sit down and we'll talk," John instructed as he took a seat at the small table.

Daniel pulled up the other chair while Dean sat down on the end of Sam's bed, careful not to awaken his exhausted brother. Once both brothers were settled, John began to speak.

"It seems Sammy has drawn the attention of the spirit of a magician," John started. "The Magnificent Manfredo to be exact," he added with a smirk.

"What? A magician? What would the spirit of a magician want with Sammy?" Daniel asked as he nervously snuck a quick look at his baby brother.

"I don't know for sure, but…" John started before he heaved a sigh and took a quick sip from his coffee.

"But? What is it, Dad?" Dean asked.

"Well, this magician was a pretty bad guy from what Caleb found out," John answered.

"Why? What did he do?" Daniel asked.

"Apparently, he kidnapped the son of a rich, prominent man back in 1904. Took him right from one of his performances. The kid got away and the magician disappeared that night and was never seen nor heard from again," John replied.

"Okay…so that still doesn't explain why he's latched on to Sammy," Dean said.

"Yeah, I know. Maybe somehow this magician thinks Sam is this kid he took and now he wants him back." John cast his gaze to his youngest and took a deep breath. The kid looked pale and oh so young and all the man wanted to do was whisk him away from San Francisco and never look back.

"You know, Sammy said he's been having nightmares about a faceless, caped figure. Don't magicians usually wear capes? At least way back then they did, I think," Daniel offered. "And that thing said that Sam had killed him, that he destroyed his dream or some stupid shit like that. It said that now that he was back, Sam would serve his purpose. I just don't get it though…why would it think Sam was the kid?"

"I don't know, Daniel. Hopefully Caleb will have more for us once he gets here," John said.

"Sammy's been having these nightmares before we ever went into that house. How the hell could they be connected with this freakin' magician?" Dean asked warily.

"Didn't he come up here for his birthday? He and a bunch of his friends?" Daniel asked, his eyes suddenly widening.

"Yeah…I remember him saying something about it," Dean replied.

"You think maybe they went to that house?" John asked.

"I don't know. Sam never said anything about going to a creepy old house. He would know better anyway," Daniel offered.

"Well, that would maybe explain things a little," Dean said.

"I guess we'll have to wait until the kid wakes up so we can ask him," John said. "Now, how about you two get some sleep. I'll keep an eye on Sammy."

"Dad…you've been driving for almost two days straight. You need to sleep," Daniel said as he eyed his father with concern.

"No…I need to keep watch on Sam. Think this thing through. No way I'm gonna be able to sleep…at least not until Caleb gets here with more information."

"Dad…" Dean started.

"No arguments. You two get some sleep…you both look like crap. I'll wake you when Caleb gets here."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said softly as he moved toward the bed opposite Sam's.

Dean followed suit and within minutes, both brothers were sound asleep leaving John to watch over all three of his boys. The man knew they had a long road ahead of them. Not only did they need to find out why Sam was the target, but they also needed to find out what was holding the spirit in the house and how to find whatever it was so they could destroy it and send the evil magician to hell.

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Caleb arrived two hours after Dean and Daniel fell asleep. He stumbled into the room when John opened the door, his less than silent arrival waking both of the elder Winchester brothers. Sam slept on despite the disturbance, his slumber a testament not only to the power of the pain pills he'd been prescribed, but also by the sheer exhaustion he was under. Caleb eyed him with concern before accepting the hot, steaming cup of coffee that John thrust at him. Once Dean and Daniel we up and out of bed, the four men crowded around the small table in the room, their voices lowered as not to disturb their youngest.

"The squirt looks like he's seen better days," Caleb offered as he settled his backside against the wall, his tired eyes once again falling upon the sleeping Winchester.

"Yeah…he has. He's seen worse too, so I guess we can be thankful for that," John said. "So, what do you have for us, Caleb? Please tell me this is going to be an easy hunt."

"Um…sorry, Johnny, wish I could say it was going to be easy, but…"

"But what?" Dean interrupted, the young man eager to hear what his friend had to say.

Caleb glanced at the younger man and sighed. "I don't think you're going to like it," he said.

"Just tell us, man. We gotta know what we're up against here," Daniel said.

"Okay…but you aren't going to like what I have to say. You probably won't even believe me," Caleb replied.

"Caleb…spit it out," John grumbled impatiently.

"Okay…here goes," Caleb breathed out before taking a sip of coffee. "So…how do you all feel about reincarnation?" he asked.

"Reincarnation? What are you getting at, Caleb?" John hissed as he lifted his dark eyes to glare at the younger hunter.

"Just hear me out, Johnny. I think that's what this may all be down to," Caleb answered.

"Wait…you think that Sam is reincarnated? Is that what you're saying?" Daniel asked suspiciously. He glanced over at his younger brother and could see the disbelief that he felt reflected back at him in Dean's green eyes.

"I think that maybe he is. It all fits and if I'm right, this magician has latched onto Sam because he is in essence the same young man he kidnapped back in 1904."

"You're frickin' crazy, Caleb. Sam is Sam, nobody else!" Dean snapped as he brushed his hand roughly through his messy hair.

"Just listen, okay? That's all I ask. Listen to what I've found out then you decide what you believe."

"Fine…tell us what you know," John said.

Caleb nodded, took a sip of coffee then set his cup down on the table. "Samuel Anthony Worthington, born May 2, 1883. Tall and lanky, muscular, long shaggy dark hair. Kind, gentle and studious. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, Caleb…it sounds like Sammy…we get it. Now who the hell is Samuel Anthony Worthington?" Dean hissed.

"He is the young man who the Magnificent Manfredo kidnapped that night….the night that the magician disappeared, never to be seen again."

"So, because this kid has the same birthday and name as Sam, you think that Sam is his reincarnation?" Daniel asked, the young man not convinced.

"Move forward in time to May 2, 1983…Lawrence Memorial Hospital in Lawrence, Kansas."

"The day Sammy was born…so?" Dean asked.

Caleb blew out a breath and glanced at each set of eyes watching him. "Yes, the day Sam was born…in the hospital that Sam was born in."

"So?" Dean asked again.

"So…a death took place that day also, in that hospital. Samuel Anthony Worthington passed away on his 100th birthday at Lawrence Memorial Hospital."

"No way. It's got to be just a coincidence. Sammy can't…" Dean started, but was cut off when his father spoke.

"What time did Samuel Worthington die? Did you find that?"

"Dad…"

"Quiet, Dean," John commanded then turned his attention back to Caleb. "What time, Caleb? Do you know?"

Caleb looked through the notes he had set on the table then looked up at John. "It says the time of death was 4:26 am," he answered.

John sucked in a quick breath and dropped his eyes to the table. "Son of a bitch," he hissed under his breath.

"Dad?" Daniel asked warily.

John looked up and sighed. "Sammy was born at 4:26 am," he simply said. He turned his gaze to his sleeping son, his stomach knotting at the implications of what Caleb had found out. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated and John wasn't sure how they were going to get out of this one.

"So…you think Caleb is right? Sammy is reincarnated from this Samuel Worthington dude?" Dean asked.

John stood from the table and brushed his hand over his face. "I think there are way too many similarities for this to be all a coincidence," he said as he moved to the bed and sat down next to his youngest son.

"So what do we do now?" Daniel asked.

"Well, there is very little known about what really happened that night. Why did the magician kidnap this Worthington kid in the first place? What were his intentions? What happened to the magician?" Caleb answered.

"How the hell do we find that shit out? This was a hundred years ago!" Dean hissed as he began to pace the room.

"We go to the house and we search it. There may be something there that will tell us what the magician was after," John said softly from where he sat next to Sam.

"What about family? Is there any of Samuel Worthington's family left? Maybe he left a journal or something," Daniel offered.

Caleb nodded and picked up the notes he had brought with him. He fumbled through the sheets of paper until he finally found what he was looking for. "His daughter died ten years ago, but he has a grandson still alive and who just happens to live here in San Francisco at the family home," he said.

"Okay, then we need to split up. Caleb, you and I will go to the house and find anything we can that this magician may have left behind. Daniel, you go talk to the grandson. See what you can find out from him," John said. Finally, they had something they could go on…something that could lead them in the right direction.

"What about me?" Dean asked.

"You stay here with Sammy. I don't want him anywhere near any of this. You keep him here and keep him safe," John instructed. He smiled when Dean nodded then he looked down at his sleeping son. He tenderly brushed the hair from Sam's eyes then carefully stood up. "Daniel, you and Dean run and get us some breakfast. Caleb and I will stay here and keep an eye on Sam."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said. Ten minutes later and the brothers were pulling away from the hotel in search of food while John and Caleb stayed behind. They went back over everything that Caleb had discovered, John still reeling from the realization that Sam was reincarnated from someone who was born 100 years before him. What it all meant for Sam was a mystery, but John was determined that no harm would come to his son because of it.

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Daniel drew in a deep breath as he rolled up his sleeves, his dark eyes glancing around at the dust covered boxes and various other treasures that lined the floors of the attic in the Worthington family mansion. It had been incredibly easy to gain entrance to the home and the trust of David Worthington, Samuel Anthony Worthington's only living heir. He had concocted a lie about how while researching old archives looking for interesting stories from San Francisco's past, he had found a small story about a young man who had been spirited away by an up and coming magician. The young man had gotten away and the magician had disappeared. That young man, Daniel had explained, was Samuel Worthington. David Worthington had seemed surprised at that, as if he had never heard of what had happened to his grandfather all those years ago, but to Daniel's relief had allowed him to go to the attic where most of Samuel's things were stored. Now, all Daniel had to do was rummage through the boxes and hope that the man had left a journal or something to let them know exactly what had gone down that night in the magician's house.

It was two hours and twenty boxes later that Daniel hit the jackpot. He came across a dusty leather journal and upon opening it, he smiled when he saw the elegant scroll writing of Samuel Anthony Worthington. He paged through the book until he found the date he was looking for. When he read what Samuel Worthington had written, he couldn't get out of the house fast enough. It was all there. How he had been taken. How he had awakened to find he was a prisoner in the magician's home. The table he was laid out on, the array of candles and strange instruments on another table in the room. Daniel's eyes had widened when he'd read of the young man seeing the magician digging what could have only been a grave in the back yard. He read on about how Samuel had managed to get free of the room he was locked in and of how the magician had finally been killed by an accidental fall down the stairs. What really got Daniel's attention was when Samuel described how his father had commanded his men to take the magicians body and bury it within the walls of the basement.

"Shit…his bones are in the house," Daniel whispered as he carefully tucked the small journal down the back of his jeans. He covered it with his shirt and jacket then hurried down the stairs. He stopped when he was met by David Worthington.

"So, did you find anything of help to you, Mr. Dylan?" David Worthington asked.

"Unfortunately, I didn't find what I was hoping to. I'll still include your grandfather in my paper, but won't be able to fill in the gaps that the eyewitness accounts left. Thank you so much for allowing me to go through your grandfather's things," Daniel said, the young man feeling no guilt at having to lie and for his theft of Samuel's journal. If it helped them take care of the spirit and keep Sam safe then Daniel had no problem with what he had done. He shook David Worthington's hand then hurriedly left the mansion. A few minutes later he was in the Impala and heading back to the motel where hopefully his father and Caleb had even more information to add to his.

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John gazed upon the large house before him with trepidation. It loomed dark and foreboding before he and Caleb and though he knew they would be better off to have more back up than just the two of them, he also knew they did not have that luxury. He and Caleb were it and they would get the information they required because there was no other outcome that was acceptable. Sam's safety and very life hung in the balance and they would stop at nothing to protect him. The men glanced at each other then quickly made their way to the front porch. They each had duffel bags slung over their shoulder and a shotgun filled with rock salt in their hand. They knew without a doubt that they would not be able to slip inside and search the house without trouble from the spirit, but they came fully prepared. They would search each room, blocking the entrance with salt and if the bastard spirit managed to get inside, they would blast it with rock salt. With one last look at each other they pushed through the door and stepped into the darkened entryway.

John indicated with a tip of his head to go into the room to his left. The hunters stepped in and each rushed to block all possible entry spots with salt. They thoroughly checked the room to no avail before cautiously moving across the hall to the next. They covered the first floor in under an hour with no appearance by the spirit then moved quickly up the stairs to the second floor. They worked their way down the long hall and it was in the last room at the end where all hell broke loose. The hunters entered the room and immediately felt the atmosphere change. Before even one salt crystal could be placed, Caleb was picked up and thrown across the room, his back making contact with the far wall with a sickening thud. His body dropped to the floor and before the young hunter could get to his feet he was picked up and thrown again, this time his body remaining still after it crashed to the dusty floor. John wasted no time in raising his shotgun, but he couldn't see the spirit to shoot it.

He inched his way toward his fallen friend then turned and stood between Caleb and the threat that loomed large, though unseen in the room. Without warning, his shotgun was yanked from his hands and tossed to the opposite side of the room. John's eyes widened as the spirit took form before him. Inky black, it formed the shape of a man in what appeared to be a long cape. There were no features that John could see as the shape moved toward him. As carefully as he could, he unzipped his duffel bag, his eyes never leaving the pulsating form. As the spirit moved closer, John's hand curled around the salt container in his bag. When the spirit was a few feet away, John whipped the container from the bag while releasing the lid and in one graceful sweep of his arm, he dispelled the spirit with salt. He wasted no time to cover his ears as the spirit's rage filled scream filled the room. He had to get Caleb up and out of the house before something worse happened to them both.

John rushed to help a now semi-conscious Caleb up from the floor before the spirit could take form again. He nearly had the stunned hunter on his feet when he was grabbed from behind and tossed like a ragdoll onto the floor. Before he could get to his feet he was lifted and shoved against the wall, the spirit once again taking form and floating mere inches from him. He could almost make out a face within the shadow and that face moved toward him then moved over his own face then down to his chest and back. The shadow oozed over his and he heard a low, husky whisper in his ear.

"You smell of the boy. You and those others took him from me. He will come to me! He is mine and you will not take him away from me again."

John pushed against the invisible force that held him, but his strength was no match for the spirit. He curled his lip as he whispered his own response. "You will never touch my son. He is not yours and he will never be yours. I will send you to hell before I let you touch him ever again," he hissed venomously.

"He will serve his purpose to me. He will pay for what he did to me and I will live again."

John snarled at that and struggled even harder to get free. The spirit pressed harder against the man until John found it hard to breathe. As his vision started to fade all that John could think of was that he could not fail his son. He had to get free, but fighting was useless. The spirit was too strong and just as his world began to turn black, a loud bang rang through the room and he found himself falling to the floor. He gasped in a deep breath and looked up to see Caleb, shotgun in hand, standing shakily in the middle of the room. He rolled to his stomach and pushed up onto his hand and knees. He felt an arm wrap around his middle and began to struggle to his feet. He lifted his eyes just slightly and that's when he saw it. A portion of the floorboard next to him was loose and he stopped trying to get to his feet, reaching out for the floor board instead. Caleb tried to pull him up, but John shoved him away as he grabbed the floorboard and pulled with all his strength. The wood gave way easily and John peered into the space below. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his penlight then shown it into the hole. He smiled when he saw what appeared to be a book wrapped in old, deteriorating fabric. He reached in and grabbed the parcel then pulled it from the floor. He looked up at Caleb then pulled himself to his feet.

"What is it, Johnny?" Caleb asked.

"Hopefully what we came here for," John replied gruffly.

"Well, we can't stay here to find out. That freak ass spirit is gonna be back sooner than later and we need to be gone before that happens."

"I need to make sure, Caleb. I'm not leaving here until I have what I came for," John hissed as he ripped the fabric from around the book.

"Johnny…"

"No! That thing means to take my boy from me!" John shouted before he carefully opened the book. "Hold the light for me," he commanded as he thrust the penlight toward Caleb.

Caleb glanced nervously over his shoulder then grabbed the light and shone it on the book. "Can you tell what kind of book it is?" he asked after a few moments.

"It's a spellbook," John replied without looking up. He opened the book further in at a page marked by a small bookmark. He quickly read the page then looked up at his friend. "Son of a bitch," he whispered as he suddenly began to move toward the door.

"What, John?" Caleb asked as he followed quickly behind.

John came to his shotgun, leaned over and picked it up without even slowing down on his rush toward the door. "I think the magician meant to use a spell on Samuel Worthington. We have to get out of here first, then we can talk about it!" John readied his shotgun as he hurried out of the room with Caleb right on his tail. They reached the top of the stairs, but stopped suddenly when the spirit appeared on the landing below. It swiftly moved up toward them, but John was ready this time. He fired off a shot and dispelled the spirit then both men practically flew down the stairs. The spirit appeared again, it's scream causing both men the cringe, but Caleb took care of it this time and a minute later they were at John's truck, both wheezing as they tried to catch their breath.

"Shit, Johnny...what the hell?!" Caleb gasped.

John took a deep breath then moved to the driver's side of the truck. "Just get in, Caleb. We need to get back to the boys!"

Caleb watched as John pulled himself up into the truck then scrambled to get in as the engine roared to life. "What is it, John? What's in that book?" he asked as John peeled away from the curb.

John looked over and shook his head. He turned his gaze back to the street and blew out a breath. "It's a spell to not only gain whatever the spell maker desires, but also for eternal life," John finally answered.

"Okay…but why did it need Samuel Worthington? And now Sammy?"

"Because it…the spell calls for a sacrifice. I didn't read it all, but I did read one thing. The sacrifice has to be male and not yet 21 years of age. Samuel Worthington, according to your research, was one day shy of his 21st birthday and…and Sammy has just turned 20. If the spirit gets ahold of Sam, it will finish what the magician started. We have to get back so I can study this spell."

"That spirit isn't going to get anywhere near Sam, John. All we need to do is find out how to permanently send it to the other side. There has to be something holding it here…"

"I don't think it's going to be that easy, Caleb."

"Why not?"

"Because…I think the spirit may have done something to Sam while it had him. We need to keep an eye on him at all times. I think that the spirit may be able to control Sam in some way." John glanced over at his friend and drew in a weary breath.

"Why do you think that?" Caleb asked nervously.

"Something it said when it had me against that wall. It just rubbed me the wrong way."

"What did it say?"

John sighed and looked back to the street. "It said that Sam would come to it. I don't know…just seemed strange, like it knew Sam would come," John answered.

Caleb nodded as he bit at his bottom lip. "That fucker ain't touching the kid again, John. It'll never get the chance," he said, his voice low and sure.

John nodded this time, a small smile curling at his lips. No more words were spoken as they drove through the streets of San Francisco. Finally, they pulled up to the motel. John felt a surge of relief when he saw the Impala parked in front of their room. That relief was short lived, however, when the door opened and Daniel stumbled out, his arm wrapped around a barely conscious Dean. Daniel met John's gaze and John knew in that moment that everything had just gone to hell.

Dun dun dun! Hmmm...wonder what happened? Tune in next time to find out :D I will work as hard as I can to get the next chapter out soon. Thanks for reading!

Cindy