Ben let out an exasperated sound and looked up at Sam. "Not he is, you are," he said, giving his grandma a look after. "Don't encourage his magical fake life just 'cause you're trying to be polite, Grandma. He's tough, he can take it. And Uncle Sam needs to know he's important."
That clarified, he turned to look at Sam again. He'd expected Sam would at least look at the stuff they'd brought before brushing it all off as same faces, even if it was retarded to Ben that anyone would believe people could have the same face and same name and not be the same freaking person. But after a near year of living with Sam, Ben knew other things too.
"I figured you'd bring up the duplicate stuff. People with the same face, yeah, okay, but not people with the same stuff on their bodies. Tattoos. Scars. And you've got a really important scar right there," he said, having reached out and around Sam to prod the spot on his back where a knife had once penetrated with deadly results. "You were stabbed and you died and my dad sold his soul to a demon to bring you back. That's why you're walking around right now to get screwed over by the Senior Pansies to think you're some Watcher."