Title: 'Til Everything Burns
Fandom: Supernatural; Spoilers for the "Pilot." (Yeah, and I'd say if you don't know what happens then, you wouldn't be reading this anyway).
Word Count: 601
Rating: PG/K+
Characters/Pairings: Jess. Mentions of Sam/Jess, but mostly gen.
Genre: Drama? Angst? Suspense?
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. If I did, do you really think I'd be using the boys to write fic with?
Warning: This is unbeta-ed. But it should be a-okay to read considering English is my first language and all... Nevertheless, even though I reread it, if someone notices a mistake (typo or other), let me know and I'll fix it.
Prompt: Given to me by myself. Write a drabble (which I did not do) about a minor character (Jess or Constance) from the "Pilot."
Summary: "Her first batch burns and she's nearly afraid that the fire alarm will go off. Panicking, she grabs the tin pan with her bare hands, burning her palms, hot red blisters on cool white skin." A descriptive piece about Jessica's weekend while Sam is away with Dean.

Right after Sam's departure in the blackened hours of Saturday morning, Jess goes back to bed, but tosses and turns until she throws the covers off and starts breakfast, eggs white with toasted bread.

Saturday afternoon is spent tackling Calculus problems (Sam never really liked the fact that she was a Math major. It's a sissy subject. I mean, even little kids know how to add and subtract numbers, he'd tease, tongue slightly breaking through his white smile.), but Jess gives up when she notices all she'd accomplished so far was scribbling "Jess & Sam" over and again, each attempt more intricate than the prior, shadowing the initial letters of their names, making them pop out, and making her beam like a silly little high school girl.

So instead, Jess decides to walk down to the supermarket for grocery shopping. She picks up milk, carrots, frozen meat, food for their little goldfish, and a bag of cookie dough with chocolate chips attached. Jess smiles. She'd never made cookies by herself before, but maybe she'd try it out to surprise Sam. Jess gets back home and gently sets the bag of cookie dough in the cabinet above the oven.

Sunday afternoon, she makes the cookies, licking off the ingredients that get stuck to her fingers in delight. Her first batch burns and she's nearly afraid that the fire alarm will go off. Panicking, she grabs the tin pan with her bare hands, burning her palms, hot red blisters on cool white skin. Swearing, Jess turns on the faucet, letting her palms run through the cold water until a pleasantly numb feeling comes over her.

Jess bandages herself and goes to work again. The aroma of her second – okay, third – batch fills the room with a scent of love and she decides that this is the batch that she wants Sam to have before his interview.

She spends the rest of her day finishing off her Calculus homework, and watching some television (She grins like a loon when she discovers a rerun of The Smurfs), before immersing herself in a warm shower.

She tucks herself in bed, and sleep plays with her until it decides that it's not going to comply with her wishes. No matter, though, because a wave of relief washes over her when she hears keys jingling and footsteps outside her room. She bites her lip and she sits up in bed, giving into her desire to see the look on Sam's face when he spots the plate of baked cookies, still somewhat warm.

Grabbing her slippers, she starts to walk out of their bedroom until she sees a shadowed figure standing by the doorway.

Hey, baby, she whispers, find the little surprise present I left for you?

There is no response, just a flash of golden eyes.

Sam? Sam?

Before she knows it, she is pinned up against the ceiling. There is a gash across her stomach and she feels blood leaving her body, drop by drop. She wants to scream. She wants to scream for help, for mercy, for Sam. But she can't. There's sickening feeling in her heart and she doesn't know why, but she can't stop thinking about the cookies she baked.

All that's running through her head is the image of red blisters on white skin.

She sees Sam through misty eyes on their bed and there's a final quiet gasp, from both of them, before she feels the same feeling she had this afternoon come in a hundred folds, heat eating away at her.

Surprise, baby…, she thinks bitterly, before thinking nothing at all.

Author's Notes:
(1) Title stolen from the song Everything Burns by Ben Moody (with Anastacia).
(2) My third Supernatural fic and my first non-Dean&Sam one. -
(3) Thus, comments would be great appreciated, constructive concrit and all! :D
(4) Enjoy!!