Sam lay, sprawled on the floor, tears streaming down his face, he could feel Dean kneeling over him, shaking him lightly.
"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay," he consoled his lanky brother.
"He hates me," wept Sam, curling up in Dean's comforting arms.
"No, he doesn't, he's just shocked."
Sam shook his head. "He doesn't, he doesn't."
Dean set his mouth into a line. He heaved his brother up and made him stand on wobbly legs. He thrust a shirt at his brother, who wiped his face with it.
He pushed all his brother's stuff into his own green duffel bag.
"Here," he threw it at Sam, who caught it. He sent a puzzled look at his brother.
"What...?"
Dean smiled his crazy screw-everybody-else smile and threw the keys to John's Impala up into the air and caught them, deftly.
"You got into collage, you go to collage." he smirked.

A few hours later, they pulled up outside a large building, Dean cut AC/DC 'Highway to Hell' and opened his door.
"C'mon kiddo, we gunna get you checked in."