Well, here I am with the next chapter! I'm heading out to Chicago Con tomorrow and I so wanted to get this chapter done and posted before then and thank the stars above, I did it! That is a load off my mind...now I can concentrate on oogling the boys...up close and personal! Yay! Anyway, I'll let you get to reading! Oh, and thank you all for the wonderful comments on the last chapter. You all are amazing!

Cindy

"We did this, Sammy boy…you and I. I knew that when I chose you, I had chosen well. Rest now, my son as we have so much more to do. Soon the entire world will be ours…"

The yellow eyed man disappeared as quickly as he had appeared and when Sam realized what the man had meant, he dropped to his knees in the burned grass and he screamed…and screamed…and screamed.

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Dean sighed for the hundredth time as his eyes lifted to the ceiling, his knee bouncing nervously up and down underneath the kitchen table. "I should go up and get him before his supper gets cold," he finally said as he turned his gaze to his father across the table.

"Just let him sleep, Dean," John said in his deep, gravely voice.

"But, Dad…the kid can't afford to miss any meals. Have you seen how skinny he is?" Dean objected.

John put down his drumstick and clasped his hands together, his dark eyes rolling up toward the ceiling, much like Dean's had only moments before. Finally, he met his middle son's eager gaze. "You go up there now all you're gonna get is an argument and Sam still won't get a meal into him. Just give him some space and then…"

A sudden, anguished scream from overhead cut off John's words and in one fluid motion, all four hunters were on their feet and sprinting up the stairs towards the room where Sam lay sleeping. They burst into the room, their weapons drawn, the men ready to take down whatever dared to attack their boy, but drew up short when all that met their frightened gazes was Sam asleep, long limbs tangled in the covers as they thrashed about, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed "no" over and over again. Daniel was at Sam's bedside first, though Dean was only one step behind. The eldest brother reached for his baby brother, deftly untangling his flailing arms from their woolen restraints and was promptly rewarded with a fist to the mouth when a suddenly freed Sam came up swinging from the bed. Daniel fell back into Dean's legs, the tang of copper on his tongue as he probed a fresh cut on his lip. John sprang to the other side of the bed and grabbed his son around his arms to keep him from doing any more damage to his brothers, his deep voice coaxing the young man awake with a litany of "you're okay" and "wake up, Sammy". Sam's eyes flew open wide and he cast his wild gaze about the room as if seeing something that nobody else could see. He fought against the arms that held him, but finally recognition dawned in his eyes and he collapsed into the arms when he realized he was in no danger.

"Dad? Wh-what's going on?" Sam sputtered softly, his eyes widening as his gaze fell upon Daniel who was now knelt beside his bed, his dark eyes filled with concern. "Danny? What happened to you?" he asked as he reached for his brother's swollen face.

"It's okay, Sammy…you didn't mean to," Daniel said with a soft smile. He took his brother's hand before his fingers could touch his face and held it gently.

Sam tried to pull back, but Daniel held firmly to his hand. "I did that to you?" he asked forlornly, his eyes filling with fresh tears.

"No, Sammy…don't do that. You were having a nightmare…you didn't mean to hit me," Daniel explained.

Sam bit at his lower lip, his eyes watching as a thin trail of blood slowly ran down Daniel's chin. "I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to…to hit you."

"I know you didn't, kiddo," Daniel responded with a warm smile.

John let go of Sam and gently turned the young man toward him. He smiled when Sam met his gaze. "Hey, you okay now, son?" he asked with concern.

"I…yeah, I'm fine. It was just a dream. I'm sorry I scared you all," Sam answered.

Dean moved to sit on the edge of the bed and patted Sam's knee to get his attention. "Was it the magician again, Sammy? Because you know you don't have to worry about him anymore, right?"

"I know. It wasn't about him. It was…I…I've never had this dream before," Sam replied, his voice cracking with fear and emotion.

"What was it about then, kid?" Bobby asked from the doorway.

"I…I was standing in a field or something and everything was burned. It was all gone and there were…there were…" Sam began, but fresh sobs broke out as he remembered what he had seen.

Daniel squeezed his hand gently as he leaned over a bit to catch Sam's eyes. "It's okay, Sammy…was just a dream. You're safe…you can tell us what happened," he said.

Sam nodded as he took a deep breath to calm himself. Finally, he began to speak again. "There were bodies everywhere…as far as I could see. They were burned and they were screaming and I was all alone and I couldn't do anything and then…"

John wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders to show his support then coaxed his son to continue. "And then?" he asked softly.

"Then…I wasn't alone. There was someone beside me…a man. He spoke. He…uh…he said that we had done that…burned all of those people. He said he had chosen well when he chose me and that we had much more to do and that one day the world would be ours. I killed them…all of those people…somehow I burned them…I did it." Sam closed his eyes against the memories and leaned into his father's body.

"Sammy…it was a dream. You didn't burn anybody," Dean said with concern.

Sam looked at him with forlorn eyes and shook his head. "But it seemed so real. And the man…I've never seen him before, but…but he somehow looked familiar…like I should know him, except…he…he had…"

"He had what, Sam?" John asked.

Sam glanced over at his father and swallowed the lump of fear that had lodged in his throat. "He had yellow eyes, Dad…glowing yellow eyes."

The men reeled back at Sam's words, but all were quick to cover their shock as Sam glanced around at them. The young man saw the change in them though and pulled away from his father's hold.

"What?" Sam asked as he eyed each man suspiciously. "Why do you all look like you've seen a ghost or something?"

"What? We don't…" Dean started, but was cut off when Sam huffed angrily.

"Don't give me that crap, Dean! I know you guys…I know those looks!"

"Sam…please," Daniel softly said.

"No, Danny! You're holding something from me…again! Why did you all turn so pale when I mentioned the man with the yellow eyes? What aren't you telling me!?"

"Well…I uh…I think I should leave the four of you alone. I'm gonna go put the food in the oven to keep it warm until we're ready to eat," Bobby said as he slowly backed out of the room and disappeared down the hallway.

Nobody said a word for a few moments until finally, John's deep voiced sounded. "Danny, Dean…I think it's time for me and Sam to have a father/son chat. Why don't you go fix Danny's cut then go down and finish your supper," he said.

"Dad…we should be here too," Daniel protested as he continued to kneel next to Sam's bed.

"Yeah…this is a family thing…" Dean started.

"I said to go eat your supper. I want to talk to Sammy alone," John commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Daniel and Dean looked at each other nervously before both young men reluctantly agreed. They each gave Sam and apologetic look before they slowly left the room, Dean silently closing the door behind him. Once they were alone, John turned his attention back to his youngest son and gave a soft sigh.

"I want to know everything, Dad. All of it…the magician, why I didn't die and why you all looked like you were ready to pass out when I told you about my dream," Sam said softly, a slight quiver in his voice.

"It's complicated, Sam, and I don't even know most of what is going on myself. That's why I've had Bobby researching so that I can figure it out…so I can protect you," John replied.

"Protect me from what? "

John scrubbed a shaky hand over his face and through his hair as he blew out a nervous breath. He looked at Sam for several moments, his dark eyes filled with concern, before he spoke again. "I wish I knew, kiddo. That's what we've been trying to figure out. I don't even know where to start," he answered truthfully.

"Okay…how about you start with the magician's spirit. Why did it want me? What drew it to me?"

John didn't want to do this, didn't want to tell his son about his reincarnated soul, but he knew he had to. There was no turning back now, it was time to bite the bullet. "Samuel Worthington died on May 2, 1983 at the same time you were born, Sam. He died in the same hospital you were born in and we think…no, we know that…uh…we know…"

"Dad…just say it. You know what?"

John took a deep breath and looked his son in the eye, his heart breaking a little at the innocence he found there. Even after everything Sam had been through, he still had this aura of innocence around him, a gentleness and kindness that wouldn't be there on most any other person who had lived through the horrors he had. This was just going to be yet another blow to the kid and John really didn't want to do this, but he forged on, intent now to lay everything out for his son because he knew that Sam deserved to know, regardless of how much it was going to hurt him.

"Dad?"

John shook himself from his thoughts and smiled sadly. "Sam, I know this is going to sound crazy, but it seems as though when you were born, Samuel Worthington's soul went into your body at the time of your birth."

Sam's mouth dropped open as he stared wide eyed at his father. After a few moments he reined in his shock and spoke. "So, you're saying that I'm what…reincarnated or something?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. The magician had plans for Samuel Worthington, but those plans were interrupted when he was killed. Going by what we found in Samuel's journal, it appears as though the magician cast some sort of spell or curse with his dying breath."

"So, the magician cast a spell of some sorts that would what, force Samuel's soul to find another body once his own body had died? And then what? The spirit would hope that the person who received the soul would somehow stumble upon his old home so he could do whatever it was he intended to do all those years ago?"

John shook his head in amazement. Even with everything happening, his youngest son was still able to use that incredible brain of his to figure out what John was so reluctant to tell him. He smiled with pride as he reached out and patted Sam's knee. "We don't think you stumbled upon that house by accident, Sam. Somehow, the spell, or curse or whatever it was led you to that house," he said finally.

"But…I'm not even the one who went there. My friends took me there…I was too…um…drunk to even know what was going on," Sam said a bit sheepishly.

John chuckled at Sam as the young man eyed him fearfully. "It's okay, Sammy…you're an adult, though I don't want you making a habit of it or anything…got it?" he said.

"Yeah…sorry, Dad. So…the curse brought me to the house any way it could. Why didn't the magician take me then, when I was there the first time?"

"I've been thinking about that. I think his spirit was dormant. I think the curse worked on its own and brought you there. Once you entered the house, the spirit was awakened. It would have been too weak at that point to take you, but it knew you would be back…the curse would make sure of that."

Sam leaned back against the headboard of his bed and dropped his chin. "I can't believe this. I'm reincarnated? Does that mean that I'm not truly a Winchester then?" he said as he looked up with tearful eyes and met his father's caring gaze.

"You are all Winchester, Sammy. This doesn't change that at all. You are mine and Mary's son…Daniel and Dean's brother. You have always been that and you will always be that," John said as he reached out to pull his son to him. "Don't you ever doubt who you are or where you belong, Sammy," he whispered as he held Sam tight.

Sam's arms found their way around his father and he held on with all he could. His heart pounded in his chest at John's revelation and all he wanted to do was forget what he had heard and go to sleep. He couldn't do that however as he knew there was more to the story. He knew he should have died that night and he somehow knew that it was the magician's spirit who had saved him. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he finally pulled himself from his father's embrace. "Why didn't I die, Dad? The spirit threw me out the window…I should have died. Why didn't I?" he asked finally.

John sighed deeply at his son's question. He knew he had to tell him, but he didn't know how. How do you tell someone who means the entire world to you that a demon has attached itself to them and that you have no idea why? How do you tell them that you don't how to protect them and what you are protecting them from? John felt completely useless in that moment as he tried to find the words to say. Sam watched him with wide eyes filled with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

"Dad?" Sam prodded, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

John met his son's gaze and smiled sadly. "Back when Trenton Wilcox had you and…and we were so desperate to find you…we had nothing, Sam…nothing to go on. We thought we may never see you again…that we had failed you in the worst possible way and then…this man appeared alongside the road and he…he told us where to find you," he finally said.

Sam cocked his head in confusion as he stared at the man before him. "Who was the man and what does that have to do with what happened at the mansion? " he asked.

John took a deep breath to steady his nerves then continued on. "That night at the mansion…the same man appeared again. Daniel saw him after he and Dean got you to the car. We believe he is the one who kept you from hitting the ground hard enough to kill you," he said.

Sam reared back in shock, his eyes even wider than before. "What? How is that possible? And why? I don't understand, Dad. What would this man want from me and why would he save me…then and now?" he cried fearfully.

"He's not really a man, Sammy," John said softly as he dropped his eyes to the blanketed bed.

"What are you talking about?"

"He appears as a man, but he's…he's a demon," John said as he once again lifted his gaze to his son's shocked face.

"A demon…saving me? How do you know he's a demon?"

"This man…he…he has yellow eyes, Sammy."

Sam's breath stuttered in his throat. His dream came slamming back at him…the burned and screaming bodies, the fire destroyed landscape…the man with the yellow eyes. In that moment he knew…it was not a dream he'd had, but more likely a vision. What he saw was going to somehow come true. His vision began to swim as he started to hyperventilate and within moments he felt himself slip sideways as darkness encompassed him. He was nearly out when John's hands grabbed him, his strong arms keeping his son from crashing to the floor as consciousness left him. He didn't hear John cry out his name or scream for his brothers. He didn't hear or feel anything because he was once again standing in the field, his tear filled eyes taking in the horror of the people he had undoubtedly killed, his hands covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out the pitiful cries and screams of his victims. He prayed in his mind to take him from this scene, to erase the memory from his brain, but mostly he prayed for God to end it all so that what he had witnessed…what he had done would never, ever become a reality.

So...that's it for now! This was supposed to be the final chapter, but alas, I couldn't get to the end of it! Oh well, I hope you can handle at least one more chapter :D Let me know what you think!

Cindy