You Are My Brother

Brother

They grew up together, through military training, political training, and finally, through training to handle their father's business.

Damien Thorn and Mark Thorn were known throughout the world, a household name at that. They did what they could for the people, selfless and true to their word. Damien grew sincere to others, molded his words so that they knew exactly what he wished, without being exceedingly blunt. He had quite the trick with words, his brother would always say.

As for Mark, he too grew in character and wisdom. However no amount of 'wisdom' stole him from the Devil's son. Damien was doing better, Mark thought. Damien did not hurt others with his powers anymore, their parents never knew a thing though their father did die abruptly of a heart attack just a few years back. But Mark could not think that Damien's abilities could do such a thing. Besides, they had both loved their father, and their father had grown old. It happened to people, sadly. But he was in Heaven now.

That train of thought brought up a new question though, Mark questioned his fate. Would the Lord have mercy in him for joining Damien? Nothing seemed amiss, Mark still read his Bible and prayed, though he could never ever break his vow to Damien. A vow of brotherly love to protect and guide. Surely, surely there was a way for Damien to enter Heaven too.

"Mark?"

Mark startled, had he been thinking too deeply again? Apparently, for he was getting strange looks from both Damien and their little council of ugly old men at the current board meeting.
"Yes?" Mark asked hastily.

Damien frowned. "Are you unwell?" He inquired, although he did not await a response. "Let's take a recess. Mark come along." He goaded gently as the others filed out.

Mark suppressed a sigh. Damien's powers seemed to include empathic abilities since Mark really had not been feeling well these past few days. A sick feeling in his gut was tearing away at both his appetite and raising his stress, but that was just psychological, surely it could not be impeding his physical form. He began to stand, but Damien was upon him. Perhaps Mark had been too slow to get up. Perhaps he really was sick.

With gentleness unbefitting Satan's child, Damien set his slightly calloused hand against Mark's forehead before frowning deeply. "You're burning up, Mark." He said.

Mark resisted a snort at the irony. "It's nothing Damien, I'm fine."

Damien did not believe him. It was quite evident on his face and demeanor. "Don't lie to me. You are sick. I will cancel the rest of today and take you to the apartment myself." Damien replied coolly, taking a firm grip on Mark's arm before leading him away.

Mark had not the will to resist, even if this meeting was a very important one. He could use some rest. If anything he'd love to go home, but the company apartment would do. Their business had been taking off in so many directions, and Damien was always so busy that they simply couldn't go all the way home. They'd been in New York City almost three weeks now. It was exhausting, military school had been less stressful that this, Mark thought bitterly as Damien got him into their limo before sitting beside him and asking their chauffeur to take them 'home'.

By the time Damien unlocked the door to the apartment Mark was ready to fall face first on concrete just to lay down. However the twin bed he fell on was probably much more pleasant than concrete.

Feeling a tug on his feet, Mark looked down the bed to see Damien calmly unlacing his shoes, helping Mark out of them and then yanking the socks off gently. Mark slightly grinned his thanks before burying his face in the pillow, ready to go to sleep.

***

Damien quietly put Mark's shoes away in the closet before getting a blanket. If Mark was too tired to get out of his suit, that was fine. However, while Mark slept Damien did undo his tie just to be safe. Gently he draped the blanket over his brother and sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and absently stroking through Mark's blonde hair.

"Have I become too much, dear brother? I have ignored my calling for you, I have done my best... but perhaps you are just unwell as humans seem to get." Damien shook his head. Strange little humans that needed so much. However all that need was not a burden to him when it came to Mark. It was always Mark that brought him back. Always Mark that helped Damien ignore the wicked calling of his true father. Because of Mark, Damien had humanity, the will to not give in and control the power for evil that lay deeply in his soul.

"Sleep Mark, sleep. I won't leave you til you are better." Damien stated firmly, withdrawing his hand from Mark's hair and sighing as he folded his hands in a blessing prayer.

"Dear Lord, protect and watch over Mark, he deserves it more than I do. Heavenly Father hear my prayer and heal my brother. And help me to stay right behind him." He implored in righteous prayer as he had been taught to do. Yet every prayer seemed so hard to say. Damien always had to pray for Mark just to get prayer to God finished. How he hated it too.

But he hated his true father more. Because of this power Damien lived in a state of fear and suspicion. Despite doing his best to be good, he knew what could arise. The daggers... the ones meant to destroy him. They had disappeared, but that did not mean they weren't in the wrong hands now. Who would believe that he, the Anti-Christ, would renounce his title in favor of his cousin and brother?

Shaking his head, Damien sighed. No, his powers he could control now. He could protect himself and Mark. He would not let anything separate them. Not even death.

With this determination, Damien stood, examined sleeping Mark once more, and decided to go make something to help. He settled on making some noodle soup and toast, started a tea kettle, and set this all on a tray so Mark would not have to leave the comfort of a bed.

As Damien worked, a small whine interrupted his focus. "No Max." He replied as his hellhound laid down at the edge of the kitchen tile. "Later. This is for Mark." Damien informed his loyal beast, stopping only to stroke the dark fur of Max before returning to the task at hand. Mark would be back on his feet in no time.