I assume that at some point Sam will be rescued from the women of letters, and the three Winchesters will have some family moments together in the bunker. Here's one of them...

Like Mother Used to Make

Dean watched his mother move around the kitchen, unable to take his eyes off her. He had been lured by the smell of pie, something he hadn't smelled in his own home for over thirty years. He rounded the corner to the kitchen and there she was, white apron tied around her waist, pulling a pan from the oven. She placed it on the counter, and smiled.

"Dean."

"Mom."

"Would you like some pie?" Dean nodded and grabbed for a plate, but Mary stopped him. "Go get your brother first."

"Aw! Sammy doesn't like pie." Mary favored him with a stern look, and Dean slumped out of the room to find his brother. Sam was sitting at a table, hunched over a pile of books.

"Sammy! Pie!"

Sam looked up and set his book aside. "Huh."

"What?"

"Well, you've always talked about Mom's pie, how no other pie tastes like her pie, how she had this secret ingredient.."

"So? You hate pie."

"I think I'll try it."

Mary had two plates sitting out, and two glasses of milk, when they settled at the kitchen table. She grinned, and ladled a big slice of pie onto Dean's plate. "There you go."

Dean mirrored her grin, and dug in. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, then opened them again and frowned down at his plate. "Hm."

"Something wrong?" Mary asked.

"Well, it's different."

"Oh." Mary pulled a box out of the trash can. Marie Calendar's apple pie. "Well, it does look like they changed the ingredients a bit. Well, it has been thirty years."

Dean stared at his mom, then the box, then the pie on his plate. "Is that the pie you always made?"

"Of course! My parents were hunters, my mother never taught me to make pie from scratch. I've always relied on Marie Calendar." Mary turned back to the oven and pulled out a pan of cookies. She picked up an opened cookie-dough roll and presented it to Sam. "I couldn't find my old cookie brand, is Pillsbury ok?"

Sam was hiding his face in his hand. Dean had a feeling that if he didn't think it would hurt their mother's feelings, Sam would be rolling on the floor, laughing. "It sounds great."

Mary filled Sam's plate with cookies. Dean pushed the pie around with his fork and tired another bite. Well, it had been thirty years. Maybe his memory had missed a few things. His closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Mom and pie. Everything tasted just right.