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"forbes?" ben echoes the name as it is said to him, something faint and distinct creeping in the back of his mind, memories damning to spark but refusing to do so. if anyone in the mystic grill caught onto the hesitation in the way he says her name, they don't reveal as such when they continue to work the lunch rush. "sorry, i thought your name sounded familiar. anybody famous in the family?" @firstw1tch.
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incorrect quotes meme: @firstw1tch, madison forbes.
"it's a shapeshifter," ben sighs, dragging a hand down his face as he looks at the file that he happened to bring back in time with him, due to being on his person when it happened. when he was brought back, he didn't anticipate that somehow, the shapeshifter would too. and would somehow get the drop on dean. flashes of his mom flicker to his forefront, there one second and gone the next, like a bolt of lightning crackling across the stormy skies. the same storm that seems to course his veins now, as he worries about dean being next. "we have to find out where it is and get dean back." @firstw1tch.
🛑 + reverse
he ushered her into the motel bathroom in a careful manner, watchful of any nervous ticks that may jolt her body, give leeway of the fear that is laden with shock. ben's movements are fluid, mechanical almost in the way that he immediately goes to work, moving towards the shower to turn the faucet to a warm temperature, checking with the edges of his calloused fingers to ensure it. the towels that the motel provides are grabbed at carelessly, like they owe him something rather than in reverse, when he moves a stack towards the sink. the motel mirror takes up the length of the entire wall, as the room is forcing madison to bear witness to the sight of herself. of the blood that stains her white shirt to a cruel pink, the splatter still marred on her skin like a constellation to her reckoning.
ben grabs a washcloth, his eyes flitting over her profile as she remains turned away from him. he doesn't know what easy words he should say to swipe away the fear that comes when discovering a new powerful aspect of yourself; he still struggles with the right words to tell jesse at times when ben just barely saved a town from the antichrist's nightmares that created an earthquake that left the town to recover for nearly several weeks. jesse's guilt still eats at him, months later. instead of words, ben uses actions instead, letting the sink water run over the fabric until it's soaked enough for him to start wiping at the blood on her cheek. her hands, her neck, the edges of her hair; places that he knows she could rid of if she stepped into the shower. but he recognizes the shock, the adrenaline that might make her crash; the realization hitting. when he has prolonged the inevitable, the mirror starts to fog in the corners from the steam releasing from the shower, and he stares at her - who stares at her reflection. he takes in a deep breath, almost cautious, worry laced in the under currents of his timbre as he asks her, "madison. talk to me."
