Spoilers: 3x05
Warnings: Violence against animals.
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: Sebastian destroys beautiful things. And they are so very, very beautiful together.

Author's Note: This started as a prompt for the angst meme. And then, all of a sudden, it was a fic. Klaine are featured here, but only towards the end—this is mostly about Sebastian, and what makes him tick.

When Sebastian was a little boy, his mommy took millions and millions of dollars and bought herself a shiny, jeweled egg. She loved that egg, showed it off to all her guests, talked about it constantly, said it was the pride of her collection, the nicest thing she had.

Sebastian thought he was nicer than any egg. Didn't mommy have him, too? She never talked about him, never showed him off to guests.

It was just a stupid egg. A thing. All it did was sit on a pedestal and sparkle in the light. Sebastian could do so much more than that. But mommy didn't care about the things Sebastian could do. She didn't care about anything that wasn't sparkly and pretty.

So one day, Sebastian climbed up onto the pedestal, took that stupid egg, and threw it down as hard as he could. Smashed it. Shattered it, broke it into a million pieces, kept on smashing and stomping it until his nanny dragged him away, his kicks and screams echoing off the marble walls.

Mommy was very unhappy with him. She yelled and shrieked, said he was an awful child, what was wrong with him? How could he do this to her? Ungrateful brat, worthless, spoiled, rotten, hateful, evil, spiteful little thing.

She hated him.

Sebastian didn't care. He'd won. The egg was broken, and Sebastian was whole. The egg was a million billion ugly pieces and Sebastian was one. He broke it, and it felt wonderful, like nothing ever had before. He wanted to break it again, feel the pieces crack beneath his boots, listen to it shatter against the hardwood. But mommy didn't have any more eggs. She did, however, have lots of other shiny and sparkly things. So Sebastian smashed those instead. With a hammer, with rocks, with other pretty things. Anything he couldn't break, he threw in the fireplace to burn.

Fire burned much prettier when it was fueled by pretty things.

Mommy did not yell at him after that. She looked at him funny, like she was scared, and then she went away. Sebastian didn't really care—that just meant that daddy started bringing home more women. Women who wore all kinds of pretty, sparkly things for Sebastian to take and ruin.

It made father angry, of course. But many things made father angry, and very few made him act. And so Sebastian made a hobby of destroying the beautiful wherever he found it. A gold watch would be snatched from its owner's wrist, smashed underfoot before he realized what was happening. A platinum engagement ring would slip from the finger of its owner and go flying into the sea while she gapes, speechless. And through all of the outrage, yelling, and tears that would follow, Sebastian would just smile. His father would pay them off, scold him a bit, and everything would be as it was, just a touch less beautiful than before.

The diamond collar was the turning point. It wasn't his fault, really. He didn't care about the dog—just the collar it wore. But the tiny, yappy thing snapped at his fingers every time he tried to touch it. If it had just let Sebastian have what he wanted, there would have been no need to hurl it into the middle of the road, no need for the screeching tires or tiny, pained yelp, barely audible over shearing metal and screams. No need for gasoline fires and broken glass and mangled wreckage around twisted leather and diamonds stained reddish brown with blood.

But father didn't understand. For whatever reason, the diamond collar was where he drew the line. He didn't know what to do with Sebastian, so he sent Sebastian away to a boarding school in Paris.

They helped him.

At first, it was like a prison. Everything there was drab and ugly and boring, completely unworthy of his time. They gave him nothing to work with, or so he thought.

As it turns out, they were challenging him. Pushing him to look deeper, beyond mere surface sparkle.

It happened at lunch one day. He sat by himself, bored and listless, raking his eyes over the room. Then, he saw them; two boys, a blond and a brunet, sitting and staring at one another in a quiet corner. Eyes soft and slightly moist, cheeks flushed, lips upturned into the faintest and most precious of smiles. It was naked adoration, quiet, yet impossibly loud to him, a whisper drowning out every other sound. It was the most beautiful thing Sebastian had ever seen.

He hated it.

More than he'd ever hated anything in his life, more than all the gold and jewelry in the world. He felt within him a fire like he hadn't felt since he held that precious egg in his tiny, trembling hands. And yet this made the egg seem rotten by comparison, made everything Sebastian had ever ruined look like dirt. In that room, Sebastian Smythe witnessed true beauty for the first time in his life, and knew that he would not be satisfied until it was shattered and broken, so much chaff beneath his feet.

So that's what he set out to do. Sebastian was a pretty boy. He knew this. And people were always willing to do things for a pretty boy. Things they'd never imagine. It didn't take much. A friendly introduction, the briefest lock of eyes with the blond. An instant connection, a flush of heat to his cheeks, lust mixed with hate and so much anticipation. A moment alone, a moment of weakness, and Sebastian was a viper, striking and sinking teeth into pale flesh, leaving his mark, imparting his poison.

The sex was nice, but it was nothing compared to the thrill of what happened afterwards. The dorm room door flying open, metal hinges straining to hold onto the wood. Arguments, accusations, so much yelling and crying and guilt and fury and shame. Soft, loving eyes were lined with red veins, narrow with anger. Gentle smiles morphed into snarls, hateful words flying from mouths like so much spittle. Two people, in love just hours before, destroyed and destroying each other in front of him.

Sebastian felt like a King.

And he knew, at that moment, that he could never go back to what he was before. Destroying things would never again be enough. Not when he knew about this.

When he returned, he came back 'cured.' No longer did the vain, disposable trollops father brought home need fear for their precious shinies. He was a changed man. Father congratulated him on his newfound maturity. He knew nothing of hickeys and welts, of red, raised flesh raked by fingernails in moments of ecstasy. He missed completely the trail of weeping, broken lovers floating face down in his son's wake.

Sometimes he fucked them. Sometimes he didn't. Sex was a bonus, and a viable means, but never the end. No, the end was dissolution, destruction, a seed of distrust and dishonesty planted, nurtured and bursting forth from the heart like an alien, a horror born of beauty. The greater the beauty, the greater the horror. He remembers every tear-streaked face, every voice-cracking accusation, every sobbed plea, choked with snot. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, Nothing happened, It meant nothing, Please don't—I'm so—I can't live without you, No, baby, please, baby, trust me, believe me, love me—

It's a high like no other. He breathes it in, lets it lift him to the clouds, wraps himself in it like a blanket, snuggly and warm, and wonders how anyone could settle for less.

When father's money starts to dwindle, when they move time after time, father nervously looking over his shoulder enough to give himself a crick, Sebastian barely notices. He has less nice things, but he's never needed those. All you need is love, after all. And love is everywhere, waiting to be found, waiting for the hunter to track it down and break it open and feast upon its corpse.

When the proverbial trail of bodies leads him to Ohio, and Dalton, the briefest moment of fear grips him. It's like Paris, but worse. Everything here is banal, base, unworthy of his touch.

And then the Warblers, those blessed, sweet, stupid boys, tell him of Blaine. Of the boy who came in and captured his heart and swept him away, out of the arms of opulence and into the gutter, so desperately did they long for one another.

A glimpse of them together is all he needs. So young, so utterly smitten, so achingly beautiful that he nearly weeps as he imagines their end.

Kurt is icy and cold and withdrawn. Sebastian could break him, but why bother? Blaine is clearly the weak link, the hopeless romantic, the warm, trusting young pup who approaches all comers with eyes wide and tail wagging. He is an easy mark—dangle a bone, and Blaine will bite. He will not see the trap until it has closed around him.

Or so he thinks.

Again, he is challenged. It's the first time that's happened in a while. Blaine's sweetness coats an iron core, and Kurt's frosty armor is lined with tiny cracks, nearly microscopic. He strikes and misses. They survive, and grow closer, and Sebastian realizes he has grown sloppy.

But he refuses to give up. This one is too beautiful to be the one that got away.

Kurt thinks he has him figured out. Ha. Kurt has no idea what Sebastian is, knows nothing of the mountain of fossilized hearts that serve as his throne. Blaine will never have sex with him. He knows that now, and though he laments the loss, it was never about sex.

No… even at the beginning, it was more than physical. Beauty means nothing without someone to notice it, cherish it, weep at its loss. That is what he seeks. Always was, always will be. He will chip away at Kurt's armor until his very beating heart is exposed to the world. He will wear away Blaine's sweet exterior, leaving only the sharp, unyielding iron at his core, and then, when they least expect it, he will run Blaine through Kurt like a knife, slaying both, and wallow in the bloodbath that follows.

At night, Sebastian dreams of black and brown-haired boys, shyly giving each other beautiful, jeweled eggs. Before their eyes, the metal tarnishes, the jewels turn to sand, and the egg breaks, releasing rot and stench powerful enough to dissolve flesh. They writhe and scream as their gifts give birth to slow, agonizing death, rotting the flesh from their bones even as they live.