Sam was already there when the Impala peeled down the street. He, too, knew better than to lurk too closely to the address that he had sent off to his family. It was risky. If Azazel so much as took a peek at his surroundings and saw the taller Winchester brother standing outside, they'd all be screwed. That was why, rather than marching toward the building to take on the yellow-eyed son of a bitch himself, Sam had taken to hiding among the brush at the end of the block. It wasn't too close to the building, but it was close enough so that Sam could remain hidden while keeping tabs on any and all activity as he waited for the others to arrive. That had been the hard part. The waiting. Crouching in some bushes, lurking uselessly while Azazel did God only knew what to Mom. Right there. She was just right there and all Sam could do was sit and wait. Oz had long gone and he had walked over on foot, so it wasn't like Sam had the right supplies to go tearing through the walls of that stupid door-less building. If he had, he would have been inside by now. Rescuing Mom. Fighting off Azazel, if he was there. Possibly getting himself killed, but Sam didn't really want to think about that. The important thing was that he got Mom out of there, no matter what the cost. Even if that came down to himself.
Annoyingly, being willing to risk himself like that meant that he was also willing to do stupid, sacrificial things that ultimately came back to selfish desires. Sam honestly didn't know if his demands for demon blood earlier were because he so desperately believed that it was the only way to save his mother or if it was because he was just using the aforementioned rescue as an excuse to get his hands on another taste of power. He didn't know. Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Right now, his head was filled with conflict, whereas his heart was bearing the weight of emotion so intensely overwhelming that Sam found he was legitimately surprised that he had actually managed to keep himself pinned in hiding for as long as he had. If this went on much longer, he'd charge. Axe handy or not, Sam would tear at that wall with whatever he had. Rocks, sticks, his fists - it didn't matter. If Dad and Dean didn't get their asses on the scene soon, he'd do it himself. Lacking in power, lacking in weaponry (aside from the gun he had strapped to his side), Sam would fight Azazel to his last breath.
You wouldn't have to if you had the demon blood, that annoyingly dark voice in the back of his head taunted. Sam closed his eyes, fingers rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose in frustration. Don't think about it, he urged himself, teeth grinding together tightly. He couldn't relapse now. That was important. He'd gone all this way. If he went back to the demon blood...it just, it wasn't easy being like this. Sam Winchester was simply one man. He had no special gifts, he couldn't exorcise a demon with his mind, he couldn't reach in and make even the most powerful of monsters writhe in agony with a thought. Sam couldn't kill. Not like he used to.
Useless. He was useless. This was useless. Mom was in there. He was out here. If he waited any longer, Azazel would pull some kind of -
There. Sam knew the sound; the rumble of the Impala's engine, humming in the distance. Standing up, still hidden in shadow and bush alike, Sam turned his attention back to the door free building. Still no change. He knew that Mom was alive. Chuck had verified that. The condition in which they were about to find her, though...it made Sam impatient. More importantly, it terrified him. What if she was in a coma? What if she had been cut up and bled out and...and...dammit. Sam bit down on his lip - hard - and moved for the Impala as Dean pulled it off the road. It was a safe distance away. Just like he was. Good.