John woke the next morning, where he had passed out, sprawled out on the couch, an empty bottle of Jack Daniels still clutched in his hand. He felt as if his mouth was full of cotton and a marching band had taken up residence inside his head. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so bad after a binge. He had built up a peculiar immunity to hangovers that grew out of many years of hard drinking. But, this time it wasn't just the alcohol that was affecting him.
He struggled to sit up, doing his best not to move to fast, trying to keep the room from spinning as best he could. He managed to get himself into a sitting position and looked around the room. It was quiet, to quiet. Where were the boys? Why weren't they up yet? It wasn't like them to sleep this late. Sam should be up and getting ready to go to school. Usually Dean was way ahead of them both and would have breakfast waiting, even if it was cold cereal, milk and toast. Then reality hit him….hard. The boys were gone.
John stood up from the couch, his legs protesting the action, threatening to buckle out from under him. He reached out and put his hand against the wall to help balance himself. He shuffled to the kitchen, found the coffee and proceeded to make himself a nice steaming pot. He poured some of the coffee in a mug and sat at the kitchen table. He placed his head in his hands and began to cry. The silence that filled the apartment was deafening, so much so that it hurt.
Dean lay awake in a strange bed, staring at a ceiling he didn't recognize. Yesterday's events played through his mind. The court room, the judge's decision, being lead away from his father. Being taken to the conference room, meeting Ms. Giles, meeting Mr. and Mrs. Danforth. Stopping for ice-cream, going to the park and zoo, Mr. Danforth's odd behavior. Sam being frightened, Sam trying to ease his guilt, then Sam's strange behavior after meeting the Danforth's.
The last thing was what Dean was most concerned about. Sam seemed to have forgotten about their father. He didn't seem to mind the fact that they were not going to be with him for a while. It was almost as if Sam had fallen under some sort of spell. Every hunter instinct he had told him that the Danforth's were not to be trusted. He just wished he could figure out what it was that made him feel this way. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his door.
"Dean, are you up? Can I come in," Sam asked from the other side. It was strange, this was the first time he could remember that he and Sam had not shared a bedroom, he didn't like it.
"Yeah, Sam. It's ok. Come in," Dean sat up. He pushed the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there waiting for his brother to enter.
Sam opened the door and stood there, a big smile on his face. He was wearing a new pair of jeans, new shoes and new white tee shirt. He had a new back pack slung over one shoulder and he was holding a new binder. His hair, which usually resembled an unruly mop, had been combed and tamed. "Look, Dean new clothes. I don't remember the last time we had new clothes. You should see what's for breakfast! Mrs. Danforth said that we would be going to a private school. Mr. Danforth is the superintendent of the school. We will be riding in with him. You should get up and get ready. I think we are going to be leaving soon."
Dean fixed his little brother with a stern stare. He stood up and walked over to him. "Sam, what's the matter with you? Don't you miss dad at all? What is it about the Danforth's that has you acting like you are? It's like I don't even know you, well I guess I better get ready. Wouldn't want to keep the great Danforth waiting." Dean pushed past Sam and made his way to the bathroom.
Sam watched his older brother tears building in his eyes. He didn't understand why Dean was being so mean. Sam was happy for once. Yes he missed his father, but this was nice. Here he had a mother and father, something he had always wanted. He knew that Dean was having trouble adjusting, it had only been a day, but he thought that Dean could at least have been trying harder. Here he felt a sense of security that he never had before. Here he felt safe.
Mrs. Danforth sat at the kitchen table a picture held in her hand. She looked at the picture and a sad smile crossed her lips. It had been six months since her son had passed. Six months of never ending pain and loss, that was until now. She stared at her son's picture his soft hazel eyes seemed to be calling to her. She noticed that his hair resembled an unruly mop, and laughed at the thought of how hard it was to keep it combed and tamed. She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. Standing before her was her son.
"Mrs. Danforth, are you alright. You look like you have just seen a ghost," Sam asked from the kitchen doorway.
"I'm fine, Sam. For a second there you looked like someone I once knew. Come finish your breakfast," Mrs. Danforth answered. She was still amazed at how much this boy looked like her son. She prayed that tonight would go as planned, because if it did she would have her son back. She smiled at Sam. She felt bad at would become of him, she had grown fond of him, but all that mattered to her was getting her Jacob back.