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When John said "get out, don't come back" he really meant something along the lines of "Escape. Run as fast as you fucking can kid. Make a happy life I could never give you."
Sam telling him about the scholarship both broke his heart, and filled him with a pride he didn't deserve to feel. The shaggy haired kid with his mother's calm attitude, had done it all on his own. No help from his deadbeat ass necessary. That terrified John. Embarrassed him, even. Dragging his sons around the country on some crazy witch hunt for an elusive, questionable creature. And yet, despite the switching of schools and constant danger, Sam was sharp as a god damned tack. Smart, friendly, opinionated. Everything Mary would've wanted him to grow to be.
So much more than his father had ever amounted to. More than Dean had chosen to be.
Dean. His loyalty made him sick sometimes. Went as far as to drop school entirely, get his GED. Just to help further with the hunting. But.. John was an animal. Distant, and cold, and reeking of liquor but his oldest never flinched. Never questioned him. Not once. He should've.
A one time mechanic who went off the rails after losing the wife he'd never been good enough for. Blessed with two sons, a second chance to do right by those he loved, and he blew that too.
He wanted better for them. A shining existence that, if they were lucky, would be completely free of him.
Later, the last legacy of a man of letters would learn that a beautiful blonde ,who became Sammy's whole world, was doomed to suffer the same fate his Mary had.
That a brunette with spunk and a cheeky young son whom everyone questioned the parentage of, would be wiped of her memories. Leaving Dean in the rubble of a life he wanted, but could not learn to adapt to. All because they were never shown how to accept and cherish love. Despite how much they deserved it.
So in the grime of a kitchen that was theirs for the time being, John remembered staring right at the patched linoleum appliances, instead of at his bright eyed, rebellious youngest.
The envelope was laying just on the counter, almost taunting him.
And so many words welled up as he finally faced Sam. 'I'm so proud. Your mother would be...' Swallowed. 'You're gonna knock 'em dead, have my blessing...' Bitten down. 'Tell me all about it when you come back for the holidays, and call once in a while....' Forgotten. Instead, words as black and slick as an oil spill, with just as much pollution, leaked out of his maw before he could stop it. "If you leave, you don't fucking come back you understand?!"
After only a moment of hesitation, without a word, Sam packs his things, and leaves.
The look on Dean's face only rubs salt further in to that age old, gaping wound. But his loyal soldier says nothing to contradict him.
'Sammy wait...'
His outline fades in to the night outside that old rickety house.
Already so tall and so angry at the world.
'I'm sorry.'