It was a decision that was snap, and in that snap was the start of complete chaos.
Under a sky that was masked by a veil of clouds, making it starless and pitch dark, Seth stood alone. Only, alone wasn't a word he could ever apply to himself. Not in the sense of true isolation. There was always someone there for him, and he was always there to be depended on. That wasn't the problem. There was something bigger than that, but it was an equation he wasn't equipped to solve. Somehow, it was something that was always hanging over him, wanting to be solved, needing to be answered. With Roman and Dean that nagging, the pestering, the horrible sense of never understanding, had been silenced. It had been relief. It had been paradise when hell had been dominating. There was nothing he desired more than to be free of what haunted him, even when he wasn't sure what that was. With them, with his brothers, he had that freedom. But freedom, as it often is, was fleeting. When it was night, when the stars were hidden behind clouds and the true vision of emptiness was hanging in the sky, the feeling would return. And it tore him up.
"Fuck."
His grip tightened on the railing of the balcony. The slick sweat of his palms squeaked meekly from the metal.
"I guess I'd be standin' out here swearin' at the moon too, if I'd screwed over everyone who trusted me."
The voice, unmistakable, unwavering, and worst of all, full of unbridled hate made Seth's skin crawl in pained and pleasured waves.
"Dean."
"Yeah, it's Dean, I'm surprised you remember that considering you beat me so hard that I was pretty sure I'd wake up in a hospital bed not knowing what my name was."
Seth was humbled into muted defiance. Both angry at the violent lash, and succumbing to what he knew in his heart he deserved. He had imagined this confrontation a thousand different ways from the moment his gloved hands had sealed around the steel of that chair, but each imagining only went as far as Dean's shaking hands and rapid breathing. It was always then that the illusion crumbled.
But that shouldn't be so.
In Dean's heart, Seth had already betrayed him.
And while they would both like to say that event had been tucked safely behind them, locked under iron and dirt, in the cold and angry face of his brother, Seth wasn't quite so sure. Then, he had cut at Dean; opened him up in a way that was neither warm, nor caring; the wound had laid open to fester, and even after reconsiliation, had been picked and prodded at until finally time had presumably covered it.
Seth saw it again now. Open and infected, gaping and staring and inviting anger because that was it survived on. Dean lived on that rage, his base emotion, and without it, and without Seth, he would truly be alone. What more could the youngest would-be member of Shield have expected? That wound could talk, and all it said was betrayal; each echo of his pulse responded, both in pain, and indignant regret.
"Well? You just gonna zip your lip now? What, don't have Orton and the COO to hold your hand? Afraid you might, I don't know, Sethy, be a little outnumbered now that your ass isn't swaddl—-"
"Dean. Shut up."
Digesting the words sent Dean's face whirling through a number of expressions. It was a sight Seth had come to know very well, well enough that this wasn't his first time to be on the receiving end of it, but this time wasn't the same. Nothing about this encounter felt familiar. This was distant— this was what Seth labeled evolution.
Wind, whistling as it blew, blasted through the air between them.
"Hang around a viper long enough and you get it's venom, huh? Well let me tell you something, I don't think you have anything besides your talk anymore. You can talk, talk, talk, and, y'know Seth, I bet they listen, and yeah, I listened too, we all make mistakes, but y'know what all your talking amounts to, Seth? Do you know what all that crap that comes out of your mouth really stands for at the end of the day? Let me clue you in. It's nothing. Your word means absolutely nothing. So keep talking, keep talking until they learn, just like Roman and me, just keep on talking until they figure it out, until they learn that you've got nothing to say."
The starless sky glared down at them, menacing, somehow beckoning in its horrible depthless, weightless presence. A chill rolled up Seth's body, starting from his heels and climbing up his spine until it reached his head. Goosebumps trailed his exposed forearms and lined his neck. There wasn't anything about Dean's ranting, long winded and disorganized as it was, that Seth could dispute. Or maybe he could, but the fact that there was no point kept his mouth shut.
A smirk was on Dean's face, only it wasn't the usual triumphant cocky smile Seth was accustomed to. Everything about it spelled disappointment.