Sam
They were at the back of the line because the damn clock picked today of all days to malfunction. If Mrs. Moore hadn't called to check on them, they'd still be curled up in bed, comfy and asleep. Right through the biggest ceremonial of their lives. So far.
Location didn't really matter, though, because the roar of the crowd was deafening, even before they got in the stadium. So much for decorum.
Sam didn't realize what he was doing until he was doing it for the fifth time: scanning the sea of faces, looking for some sign that Dad or Dean was there.
How could they be? He hadn't invited them. He hadn't even looked at invitations, except to humor Jess. The only people he knew were either going to be here, graduating, or be here already for Jess. You couldn't mail invitations to people who didn't have mailboxes, anyway.
It was a lousy excuse, and he knew it, and by the way she'd looked at him, even Jess had known it. He could have called. If the numbers he had didn't work, he could have called Pastor Jim—that number had been engraved in his memory before anybody had ever even mentioned memorizing 911, and it hadn't changed.
Of course, they wouldn't have come. Dad had made his feelings about Sam's pursuit of normality quite clear. He hadn't shown up for any of Sam's lesser accomplishments, so why would he show for this one, unless he thought there was a ghost to banish? And Dean—Sam loved his brother, but Dean didn't have the spine to stand up to Dad and make his own decisions. Probably never would.
Still, he searched the crowds in the stadium seats, never mind that they were too far away from the seats on the field to really see anything. Jess saw what he was doing, and reached over and grabbed his hand, said something he didn't hear, but it sounded reassuring.
He should have taken the chance. He should have invited them. He'd always thought the biggest regret of his college career would be not being able to take a class he wanted because he didn't have room for it in the schedule with the ones he had to have. Now he knew better.
He didn't miss the hunting. Never would. But dear God, how he missed them.
