There they were, two fully grown men, tied up and gagged by a tiny, blond woman. There was something annoyingly humorous about the situation, which made Sam all the more frustrated. He and Chuck were being held hostage. By Jo, of all people. Clearly she wasn't in her right mind, but that didn't make everything suck any less, now did it? Grunting against his gag in response to Chuck's eyeroll, Sam wriggled against the ropes wrapped around him once more. He could break free of these. Maybe, if he could get his hands twisted around the right way without either breaking them or completely tipping his chair over. Jo knew how to tie a mean knot, Sam would give her that. He twisted at his ropes again, straining his legs against the material wrapped around his ankles in the process. Sam could feel the rope burning at his skin, but he didn't seem to care. He wasn't going to sit in here and wait for this entire city to tear itself apart from the inside out. Sam needed to be out there. More importantly, he needed to make Jo and everyone else see that all of this wasn't what they thought it was. Giving the ropes another tug, Sam released a heavy breath and let his head flop downward. The ropes weren't budging. He needed to re-think his strategy. Or, better yet, his severe lack of one.
"Mrmphit!"
Or in gagged and bound prisoner speak: dammit!
Seriously, Chuck needed to learn how to read minds too. He could already see everything that he and Dean did on a regular basis. Why not be able to see inside their heads as well? If not that, then Sam would have happily settled for some kind of reassurance that he was going to get out of here soon. There had to be a comforting vision tucked away in that head of his somewhere. It was all that psychic crap. Maybe if Sam tried channeling his psychic stuff with Chuck's psychic stuff, they'd be able to accomplish...something. But then there was the fact that Sam wasn't using his powers anymore. And he was also pretty sure that Chuck couldn't control his either. Screwing his eyes shut, Sam tried to avoid releasing another sharp growl of annoyance - something that became a lot easier to accomplish as soon as the door cracked open and Sam saw Mary slip into the room.
Almost instantly, Sam went from unbelievably frustrated to finding a streak of shock and worry replacing the aforementioned emotion. Would she believe that they were innocent? Would she try and exorcise them? Would Mary look into her sons eyes and dub him a monster? Sam looked up at her; the illusion painted his eyes were black, but they were very much filled with worry. Then Mary reached around and ungagged him, worry quickly shifting into hope with the gesture. She was letting him speak. She was asking if he was okay. She believed that something was going on too, didn't she? "I'm okay," Sam said, looking to her eagerly. He had a few scratches here and there - both from his encounter with Jo and a few others he'd had in the city as well - but it was nothing to be concerned about. Sam had endured far, far worse. "I - what are you doing here, Mom?" She was ungagging Chuck and himself, that was what. Did that mean....? "I'm not a demon. I know it looks that way and I know that you're probably having a hard time believing it, but it's true. Something is going on, Mom. Something is turning us against each other. We need to find it and stop it." She had to listen. She was being far more generous to he and Chuck than any other hunter who thought that someone was a demon ever would.