Shapeshifters. Ben hates shapeshifters. Slimy, nasty freaks. This one is peeling Ben's face off himself, grinning like a maniac over the loud crunching of bone and organ. Ben, curled up on the ground after the hammering blow to his solar plexus, bites down hard on his tongue to keep from retching at the sound, looks away until the noises stop. Morbid curiosity makes him look back once the transformation is finished. A painfully familiar face is leering back at him, licking the remnants of blood off his new teeth.
"Now, Ben," he purrs. "Don't look so sad. I do this to cheer you up!" The thing strokes a hand down Ben's face, but it's also Dean's hand, Dean's voice, Dean's eyes looking back at him with something that's never been fatherly pride. "Well it didn't work," he spits. "You're just making me loose my lunch."
The hand by his chin twists and grabs Ben hard. It drags him up until the shapeshifter's face is close to his. "Don't lie to me," it hisses, putrid breath overwhelming. "This is the one person you're dying to see. Dying to win the approval of. Dying to be known as his son, instead of the baggage that came with the girl he fucked." It laughs. "You'll never be anything other than that. But you know that, don't you? I could hear your thoughts when I was wearing you. You knew you were never good enough. That's why he left in the first place, wasn't it? The whiny little brat of a kid. He threw you into a wall as goodbye."
"Fuck. You," Ben grits out.
It picks him up and slams him into the wall, using its body weight to keep Ben from sliding back down to the floor. "I'm doing you a favor, letting his face be the last one you see. I have a heart. The thing you want most in the world is his approval. I can give it to you, before you die." The thing pastes on a concerned face. "All you have to do is ask me, Ben. Ask if I ever was proud of you." It's looking at him with Dean's patient look, the one that he wore when he would help Ben with homework. Ben palms the silver knife up his sleeve. "You…" Ben starts, trying to control the slight tremor in his limbs.
The shapeshifter looks at him with that damned face. "What is it, kiddo?"
Ben strikes before he loses his nerve. "You're not Dean," he hisses as he shoves the blade in. Then he pulls out and strikes again, and again, and again. It's shrieking, thrashing Ben side to side, but Ben finally hits true. The shapeshifter releases Ben with a full-body convulsion and staggers backwards. "I never loved you," he hisses, hand trying to stem the steaming wound by its heart. "You were just Lisa's whiny brat. You began as a mistake and you're going to end as one." He collapses onto the floor as blood loss makes him weak. "You're just a spoiled kid who's never had to work a hard day in his life. Even now, you don't hunt to save people. You hunt to prove something to yourself. You disgust me."
Ben advances, careful not to slip in the growing puddle of blood, and slashes into Dean's face. "You're not my father." It shrieks and gurgles, weakly trying to bat the knife away. Ben strikes again. "You're not my hero." It keens in a higher pitch than any human could make, then goes silent. Ben measures where its heart would be and shoves the knife in once last time, just to make sure it's not an act. "You're not anybody," he tells the corpse. Then he goes to find some salt and gasoline.