Fire Blanket

Summary: PreSeries! WeeChesters! It's Christmas Day and Sam's decided to cook the family lunch...

Fandom: Supernatural

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places that you may recognise. They all belong to their respective owners. I only own my memories and experiences.

Authors Note: This piece was inspired by a little experience we had whilst cooking. My roommate still has the burnt object of concern...muhaha! Enjoy!


You don't have a lot of experience in the kitchen...you really don't. In between diners and canned food you and your family don't cook at all. Also, you're only eleven years old and a boy so you really don't give a crap about cooking. It's a chick thing, right? Well that's what your big brother Dean says, and generally whatever Dean says is true.

So when you arrived in yet another random hotel in another backroad town in another state you decided that this Christmas you would cook your small family of three a dinner. Of course it eventually came down to just you and your brother when your dad went off on another hunt, which was annoying. At times like that, you really wished that you could visit Uncle Bobby (you're not supposed to talk about him anymore around dad) or Pastor Jim (he always makes the best pancakes) or even Caleb (like you, he doesn't cook and has no great desire for the holiday season).

So as soon as your brother went out to go buy some pizza for dinner you began to plot your dinner. You pull out a piece of scrap paper, grab a texta and then stare blankly at the sheet. You have no idea what to make and no cook books to look up recipes. You leave the hotel room and creep down the hallway. You know that there is a chef staying just down the hall (you heard her bragging about it yesterday) and you bet that she'll have a recipe book of some kind.

You reach her door and lean against it trying to hear through the door. You can't hear anything, so you pull out a little silver paperclip and begin to pick the lock. You grin as you do it, remembering the day when Dean taught you, so that you could get back that knife Bobby had given you from the teacher's desk.

The lock clicks and you open the door. You breathe in relief as you enter to see that no one is in there. You glance at the clock and figure that you have about ten minutes before Dean will get back (less if that lady comes back). You start casing the room, careful to put any items you move back in their original position. You find a cook book and begin to read through it. In the end you decide to make Spaghetti Bolognese – it can't be that hard, right?

You scribble down the recipe and then leave the room, locking it behind you. You run lightly back to your room and get inside. You wait about a minute and then Dean comes through carrying pizza. You eat some, your stomach full of butterflies.

The next few days pass without great incident. You manage to get out of Dean's sight for a few hours and go to the supermarket and grab you ingredients. You also explore every nook and cranny of the kitchen. When Christmas Eve comes you're feeling fairly confident.

The next morning you wake up, excited. Typically you and Dean unwrap your presents (this year it isn't the little girl's barbie doll from down the road). Then you manage to convince Dean that your throat is really sore. He believes you (growing up as a hunter has taught you a lot of good skills) and heads out, in an attempt to find a chemist that is actually open. You know that he knows that one won't be open but he's still going to try.

Now that he's gone you begin to cook. You've never really cut up garlic, carrot or onion so it comes out in massive chunks. You've now started to get a bit worried...

Eventually you have everything cooking, including the pasta. You're not sure when it will be done, so you end up burning the meat a bit. You grab a fork and stick it into the saucepan and whip out a piece of spaghetti and taste it. It's nice and chewy and extremely hot.

Satisfied you grab the tea towel (you don't have oven mits) and are about to grab the saucepan so you can drain it when you smell a slight lingering smell in the air. You wrinkle your nose and that's when you realise that your arm is quite warm. You glance down and see that the tea towel is on fire.

You drop it on the ground, frozen. Your heart is beating faster and your breath has quickened. Then Dean walks in.

He reacts instantly, running forward, pushing you aside and grabbing the fire blanket. He throws it onto the fire and then looks up at you.

"What the hell were you doing?"

And you smile, giggle slightly, and reply, "Merry Christmas!"

Fin