Seamus' temper was like a beast in his chest. Most of the time it slumbered beneath his rib cage, or could be easily wrestled back into submission with a little help from his friends. Now it was his friend that was riling up the beast inside him, and Seamus found he didn't care. He wanted to be angry. He liked being angry. Being angry was so much better than being sad, or miserable, or helpless. Being angry made him feel invincible. So Seamus fed the beast.
"What the fuck's your problem?" He growled, lashing out with a palm hard against Dean's shoulder to push him back. He stepped in front of him to block his way, "Does it make ya feel special to act like such a fucking victim? Don't be so pathetic! Yer not dead are ya!? Get over it."