He remembers what it was like when the novelty had worn off of having a flesh-and-blood father and the disappointment had settled in, before disappointment had become resignation when John failed to keep in contact. It'd hurt, but he'd adapted.

And he remembers what it'd been like to sit across the table from Zachariah alone, completely alone. It's the same feeling he has now, only it's a feeling that's become old hat now.

This is nothing new. This is just what life is when Heaven is far, far away.

It's why he turns away before Dean's finished, dismissive. Dean had had his chance to talk years ago and almost everything he'd said then had fallen through in the time since. Having some future version of Dean pull out his soap box like this and run his mouth off from on top of it is something he can do without. "Thanks for the opinion piece, but we both know you like to lay it on thick."

Thick and steaming with crap, just as when he'd tried to say that family doesn't leave each other behind.