"I think Sam doesn't think of family the same way you do because he doesn't remember your mom. And it sounds like he didn't really get along with your dad, so maybe he just wants the stereotypical two parents and two point five kids, complete with golden retriever and the white picket fence experience. I'm pretty sure that he'll get that with Claire, though." She shrugged, giving his hand a squeeze.

She thought about what his mom must look like, and what it must have been like for him as a kid. If Sam didn't even remember her, she must have died when they were really young. And as curious as she was, she wasn't going to ask when or how she died. "You'll get to be with her again, Dean. It may not be right away, but you'll eventually be back there, and then you won't have to leave her. But I can cut the crusts off your sandwiches until you get to go back home."

Because maybe that's what he saw his heaven as, was home. Once he got there, he wouldn't have to fight so much, and he wouldn't have to be so upset all the time. His mother could take care of him, and he could just be at peace. And really, that was what she wanted for him, was just to be happy and at ease.

"What was your mom like? If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."