The sun beamed, a burning rosary of oranges, yellow, and red. Regardless of what the anchor woman reported of another hot day, warning all of cleveland's residence to boost up their air condition, this morning had been delightfully perfect. Sam decided to shy away from the darker clothes he usually wore - much more fitting for hunting, but a picnic, he would tend to look morbid - and shimmy into a crisp white buttoned shirt and faded blue jeans with a pair of boots. Buffy had promised to supply the food, which worked out well for him, since he wasn't much of a cook. When you traveled on the road majority of the time, you tend to become an avid consumer of fast good joints. He had no idea why he wasn't ranging in obsesisty by now. Maybe it was the nightly hunts that boosted his metabolism and kept him fit. It beats the tread mill. He would rather die then be caught in a twenty-four hour fitness gym.
He had crashed at his brother's place for a couple nights, but the giggling of ghosts kept him up. Dark circles were already starting to mask under his hazel eyes. The time spent with his brother was usually short. Dean had always been out of the house to visit Cordelia. Sam usually raided the fridge and dranked beers or went out hunting for Azazel. There had been no luck. No traces of this yellow-eyed freak. That was when he called up Buffy, deciding he deserved a break from all the chaos.
He was amused she thought their definition of date meant a patrol; which is usually had lead to that.
This time he wanted something that had some relevance to normalcy. He wanted to pull out a spread, dish out some food, and have a picnic with his girlfriend. He couldn't remember the last time he did anything like this. It went back to those days with Jessica. Now he was starting to feel more like a man and less like a freak. Children were laughing, playing in the grass, and other couples were out holding hands while they giggled in hush murmurs. It was a nice change from slaying vampires in the cemetery or slaughtering demons in the sewers - less of a mess, too.
He smiled softly when Buffy had to tiptoe to kiss him. Sam leaned in to meet her half way. "Has anyone ever told you that you're freakishly tall?" He thought it was more amusing. A memory sparking in his brain of his elementary years. Other kids would pick on him for being too short, and when junior high came along, he just sprouted up in height. Now he was taller then his older brother. Sam separated his lips to speak, but Buffy filled in the gap for him. "And don't say that it's just because I'm freakishly short, 'cause then I'd have to break out a can of whoop ass." His smile grew larger in that single moment. He zipped his lips, and plopped down on the ground. "So, what's on the menu?" He patiently waited for Buffy to unload her basket, organizing strawberries, sandwiches, and bottles of water across the spread. "What did I tell you? I've got mad skills in the kitchen. It's okay to be jealous."
He smiled hadn't faded even a muscle. "And I bow down to the master chef." His eyes gazed into Buffy's, noticing the glint in them given to the sun, or maybe it was plain happiness. He had no doubt his own eyes were doing the same. Joy wasn't something that came by to him often.
"It looks great." He felt that feeling of invincibility. For once nothing had mattered. He hadn't thought about demons or even Azazel. He was completely at peace. It was a rare feeling that he was enjoying.