Saturday. Sandy sat alone in the playroom for the first time in months. The children weren't here today; they were at the park with their father. Jenna was spending as much time as possible with her husband before he shipped out again. They both relished the unexpected time together, and neither questioned the miracle that had brought Jenna so close to death.

At least, they said nothing in front of Sandy. If Jenna had questioned Sam, she'd done it as her mother predicted, in a dark corner where no one could come to his defense.

A smiled flickered across Sandy's lips. She let it linger and settle there. The play room was empty, and that was as it should be. Children were meant to grow up, leave home behind. Sandy leaned out the window and blew a kiss at the sky. If angels were real, then heaven might be also.

Be well, my daughter.

Jessica was gone, Sam had his own life, Jenna was wrapped up in motherhood.

But the silence was no longer empty, hollow. A peace had settled in her soul, a weight had been lifted. Sandy breathed deep, and turned her back on the play room.

She was pulling on her gardening shoes when the door-bell rang. Brian looked up from his book, staring first at the door, then at his wife. Sandy shrugged.

Who would come unannounced on a Saturday morning?

A woman stood on the step, blonde hair and sad, searching eyes. Sandy stepped back, struck by the resemblance.

"Hello. My name is Mary. This might seem strange but-I'm trying to learn more about Sam Winchester. I'm his-" She paused, fumbling for the word. Because Sandy knew that name, but this woman wasn't the right age. Besides, Mary Winchester was dead.

Those eyes. That name. It couldn't be.

But angels walked the earth, and miracles could happen in Lakeport.

"I heard Sam was injured, but he's not at the hospital. They told me to check here."

"Sam's fine, he and Dean left town yesterday."

"Oh. Good." Mary's smile was hesitant. She fiddled with a book in her hand, leather-bound with bits of odd-shaped paper sticking out from the pages. A scrapbook or journal? "Are you Jessica Moore's parents?"

"My daughter died twelve years ago. Why do you ask?"

"I'm trying to learn more about Sam. I was gone for-I missed a lot of things, and I'm trying to catch up."

Sandy paused for a moment, then pulled the door open wide. "Well, we knew Sam for a little while, and I like to think that he'll always be part of the family. Please, come in. We've got some coffee left."

Mary smiled and stepped through the door, looking hungry, but not for breakfast. Sandy began to chatter about times gone by, and Sam's mother soaked in every word.

Note: I started writing this story back in the beginning of season twelve. I'm not happy with the direction the show has taken Mary's character. I wanted her to be trying to learn more about her boys and the lives that she missed, not off hunting. So. There you have it.

Thanks for reading.