Dean became his new obsession. Every morning Sam was early, which was surprising considering how late he came in and how little he slept. He all but lived at the office, and when he came home he spent hours and hours scouring police footage of him. His pin board grew and grew, finding little things that were linked to him that started to show a pattern. A fucking pattern is what Sam had been hoping for this time, that Dean had somehow screwed up and left him traceable because so far they had nothing. No leads on him. It's like he'd vanished.
His intense review of the breaking-and-entering footage was interrupted by Jess' hand on his shoulder. Sam jumped and shut the lid of his laptop, looking up and seeing her pretty pissed off face. "Sam. Bed." She commanded, sounding more like his mother than his fiancé. He rubbed the back of his neck and then his eyes, not realising how tired he was until he yawned heavily. "Exactly. I know this grave-perve case is important but so are you. And you can't do your best on 3 hours of sleep and red bull, Sam." She took his hand and tugged it softly, and Sam stood obediently, following her to their bedroom. "Do I have to undress you and tuck you in or can you do it?" She teased, and Sam pouted playfully and nodded, "I don't think I can do it all by myself, Jessy." Jess rolls her eyes but pulls his t-shirt off from over his head, pushing him down onto the bed because he was already wearing jogging pants. Sam laughs tiredly, pulling the covers up around him as she clambered into bed beside him, and he put one of his big arms around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. He loved Jess, and little things, little moments like this made him remember that. He loved the smell of her shampoo, and the comforting curly craziness of her blonde hair.
He was so completely distracted with patterns in his head that he poured coffee on his cereal, sending him and Jess into laughter. He stood after that, picking up his jacket from the couch, kissing Jess gently on the cheek, "Honey, I'll be late if I don't go now. I'll see you tonight." Jess nodded and leant in to softly kiss his lips, leaving sam smiling and glowing as he walked away. "I love you!" Sam called over his shoulder as he walked out of the front door, leaving Jess smiling as she tidied their little kitchen. He opened the door of his car and got inside, slamming the door behind him as he put the key in the ignition and started it. As soon as the car started, so did the radio. His brow furrowed, it was that freakin' awful song by Asia, Heat of the...something. He shrugs and changes the channel, pulling out of the driveway and into the road. Dean didn't crop up in his mind once.
When he got to work he immediately added all of the new data and extracts he refined last night to his slowly growing file of Dean. And, when he checked his e-mail, some of the feelers he had put out had responded. It was only a 2 second clip from some grocery store in Shorewood, Wisconsin. But it was definitely Dean, the man was the right build, and even had on the oversized leather jacket. Sam's eyes glinted with triumph briefly, and he printed off each frame and pinned the location on the board. He was good, he really was. Dean covered his tracks, went back on himself and would take the long way round just so he couldn't be tracked. But Sam was too, hell he was the best damn officer in that building. And if he couldn't lock that Son of a Bitch up for good then no one could. Dean never actually entered the store, but you could see him walk past one of the windows. It was grainy and black and white, but he...he winked at the camera? Sam didn't notice it, or at least it didn't register. Or he didn't want it to register.
Dean felt like his lungs were gonna explode.
He heard sirens, and he ran. That was now a natural instinct for him. Even if they weren't for him, even though they probably were.
Didn't even think.
He stopped a few minutes later, pressing up against the inside wall of an alleyway, waiting until he could no longer hear them. When the air was silent, he laughed. Dean looked around before stepping out, pulling out his phone - he changed it every other week, and sent a text, his thumb slightly shaking over the keys from the chill in the air.
Tonight.
Then, he took the sim card out, flicked open his lighter and melted it before throwing it in a nearby trashcan. Dean dropped the phone onto the floor and crushed under the heel of his heavy boots. He picked up the remnants and stuffed them in the pocket of his leather jacket, checking quickly before walking out into the night. When he reached his motel, true to his word, there was a keycard in his bed, with a note. Don't lose it, Idiot. Dean could practically here the redneck twang in his head as he picked up the paper, crumpling it into a ball and stuffing that also in his pocket. He then went to the tiny bathroom that was surround with damp and mould, and burned the evidence, flushing the ashes down the toilet.
He didn't sleep, he just sat in the chair in the corner, flicking open and shutting his knife. Waiting for the right time. in the silence and darkness, all that could be heard was the constant 'click' 'click' 'click'.