A/N: This is just a short little ficlet I wrote about the night Sam left for Stanford. I'm trying to get over my writer's block for Love is A labor. I'm sorry to everyone who's waiting for that one.
Sam was seventeen when he left, but Dean knew that he'd lost his brother long before that.
It had started when Sam turned thirteen, and gotten into high school. All those damn guidance counselors, telling the kid to 'pick a career' and 'follow your dream'.
Sam had always been different, though. He'd always hated the life he'd had with Dean and their father. Hated it to the point that -as Dean had once told him- if Sam were to die, he'd come back as a vengeful spirit.
John didn't make things any easier. Always finding something to knit-pick about. Mostly about Sam's attitude towards hunting, but occasionally other things. Sam's hair was too long. He wasn't interested in girls. He listened to 'weird' music. He spent too much time on homework. He didn't spend enough time cleaning his gun.
To which Sam would say, if John didn't like his hair, quit looking at him. They didn't stay in one place long enough for him to find a girlfriend. Nobody asked John to listen to Sam's music. He wanted to be the first Winchester to get a high school diploma. His gun and never jammed.
And then they'd scream at each other for a while, before John would go for a walk, and Sam would lay on the bed, blaring his Walkman.
But everything changed when Sammy got the letter.
"Hey, I got something to tell you guys," Sam said casually.
John and Dean looked up from the table.
"Can it wait, Samuel? In case you hadn't noticed, we're doing research."
Sam pushed himself off the bed angrily. "No, it can't wait! You guys have been looking for hours, and you're still no closer to finding the ghost, so just listen to me for a minute!"
John leaned back in his chair, glaring at his younger son. "That's the damn problem with you, Samuel! Always thinking about yourself! You could be over here helping us try to save someone's life, but you're too busy being a damn brat to help!"
Sam's green eyes flashed. "Well you won't have to worry about that anymore. I got accepted to Stanford University this fall. I got a full scholarship."
The room was silent for what seemed like hours, before Dean stood and gave his brother a hug.
"That's great, Nerd Boy! I'm proud of ya! What're you goin' for?"
"He's not." John's icy voice cut through the room like a shiv. He stood and walked over to Sam and Dean, stopping a foot away. "And that's the end of the discussion." He grabbed his jacket, and was heading for the door when Sam spoke.
"You. Can't. Stop. Me." his voice came out hard and clipped, and both of the elder Winchesters were shocked at how much he sounded like John.
John turned around slowly, and walked over to Sam, stopping a hair's length away from his youngest.
"What'd you say, Boy?"
Sam stood his ground, although both boys had seen many a hunger back down from the cold tone that John used.
"I said, you can't stop me."
"You ungrateful little bastard," John hissed. "Your mother gave her life to protect you from what's out there, and you think your just gonna walk away?"
Sam visibly shook in anger. "Is that it, dad? Or did she die because you were too slow to save her?"
Dean barely had time to jump back before John's fist slammed into Sam's face. Dean watched in horror as Sam spit out a tooth, staring silently at his father, before dropping the older man with a blow to the gut.
All hell broke lose as Dean tried to pull his father and brother apart, cursing and pleading for them to stop as the two pummeled each other.
He finally managed to pull them apart, tossing Sam one way, and John the other.
"Don't do this, guys. Please," Dean begged, eyes full of unshed tears.
Sam looked at Dean, then at John, then back at Dean, before grabbing his coat, and starting towards the door.
"If you walk out that door, Samuel, don't you ever come back," John said angrily.
Sam paused only for a moment...
And then he quietly shut the door behind him, and walked out of his family's life.