Last chapter. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this, I apologize so much for my extremely slow updates. :( I'm sorry. Hope you don't hate the ending…

Chapter 17

Mark leans forward on the couch, his jaw hung open in shock. I can see the wheels of his mind turning, he's probably trying to convince himself that he is really asleep and having a nightmare or even awake and having a mental breakdown. His mind must be mulling over everything I just told him. He must be remembering being in that small, cold, room with the doctor motioning him in. His hand rises slowly from his side and he presses his palm against some unseen surface, just like when I saw him through the one way mirror. Voices are pushing at the cracks in his memory, begging to be released and realized, I can read him through his eyes and when I look hard enough I can get a feeling for what he's thinking and for the headache that's coming on. He's confused but just like he did so many years ago he's looking through that one way mirror and he knows somehow that I am telling him the truth. He knows that I am real.

"Oh my God." Mark croaks and brings a quaking hand to his temple where he kneads it in attempt to give his aching head a bit of relief.

"What's wrong Mark? Headache?" I growl and leer over him in that special, psychotic manner of mine. Before Mark can reply or even move my hands are fisted into his hair and I shove him violently to the floor. That felt so damn good. I can't help but laugh as Mark struggles, strands of his dark hair tearing between my fingers. Mark brings his fist back ready to punch me in defense but I snap his head back. I can almost feel the pain rocket down his neck and upper back, tingling and burning the nerves there.

"Kane!" Struggle Mark, struggle it only makes this more fun.

This is it big brother, this is my second chance and I will not fail. You were meant to die in that fire, my fire, my hate.

With a quick move I slam Mark's head into the thick oak coffee table, his forehead thuds against the wood loudly with a sickly crack that is music to my ears. I untwine my fingers from Mark's hair and he slumps back against the couch, blood pouring down his face, his green orbs glaze over and roll upwards.

How beautiful, crimson rivers dripping down drowning out my rage. I watch in fascination as Mark's shirt front colors ruby with his leaking blood. The fulfilling image of my brothers' bloody countenance transposes with that of the doctor and his mutilated eyeball via the pen I had impaled it with. My emotions are starting to run wild and I must reign them in, I let my rage ruin me before and this time I can't. I have to stay focused, though my head grows dizzy with the high of watching Mark's eyes roll around as consciousness leaves his body.

I reach out to his face and cup it, almost lovingly, though I don't love him…not anymore. All I love is the pain I'm causing him. All I love is his blood, warm and sticky beneath my hand. The feel of it arouses me.

"Mark, look what you do to me." I bring one of his limp hands between my legs against my hard on and laugh before dropping the dead appendage back into his lap. Leaning on the table I get up, my hand tainted with Mark's blood digs around in my pocket and I pull out the lighter. How fitting that it's the same one I used all those years ago when I burned down the funeral home.

I hold it up to the light in my trembling hand, admiring it. I love it and hate it both, but this time the flames will not fail me. I flick the lighter to life and watch hypnotized by the dancing orange light. No matter how many times I see it, I am always captured my its beauty and power.

"Oooh…" A groan issues from near the couch and I whip around to find Mark stirring to life, his hand finding the side of his head and holding it. I have to do this before he comes to or I'll blow my chance. Angry at myself for wasting time and at him for swimming back to life I stomp over and grab his chin squeezing it in my hand and smearing the blood. My nose is just inches from his, my eyes burn into his which still have a far away glaze to them.

"Kane, don't hate me. He planted things in your head, he lied, he manipulated us Kane. I never did anything to hurt you I--I tried to protect you, you're my brother!"

"Protect me!" I bellow the words, spitting in his face, my rage boiling over. How dare he pretend that he tried to protect me! What kind of idiot does he take me for? I remember everything, much more than he does. Mark starts to cough and sputter. His shapely lips writhe as they pull back and struggle to suck in air. He stumbles to his feet with my hands still wrapped around his neck. His legs tremble, the combination of loss of blood, depravation of oxygen, and his injured head are too much and he sinks back to the floor. His face drains to white and his lips color dark and bluish, he gives a couple more sporadic struggles before lying still on the floor, his tormented gasps silenced.

I sneer at the slumped form of my brothers' body. I pull out my lighter once more and flick it to life for a few moments, then snap it closed and bury it back in my pocket. I turn my attention to an overstuffed chair and stretch my arm outwards towards the unsuspecting furniture and concentrate. I envision the dance of flames on the cushions, consuming the arm rests, and gnawing the stuffing. A small curl of smoke rises from the seat of the chair and my lips curl sinisterly upwards, pleased with the reaction. A small hole opens in the center of the cushion and burns black around the edges and grows slowly wider and wider. Tiny flames creep to life and lick at the fabric, feeding. The power wells inside of me, I can feel it rising and surging through every fiber of my being. It trembles through me, filling me. With a snap of my wrist the entire chair bursts into flames that leap high licking the ceiling.

I turn on the curtains and with one look set them to burning, next is the bookshelf, then the fireplace roars to life spilling fire like vomit from its open mouth. Smoldering embers shoot out and land on the carpet burning the fibers and spreading quickly. In the kitchen the stove burners engulf with blue flames before the entire appliance explodes sending the pungent odor of gas leaking into the house and burners and racks flying like missals. In the basement the furnace wells up with flames and the hungry beasts barrel through the pipes and erupt out from the registers like pyrotechnic geysers. My laugh is the soundtrack to this beautiful movie, the death of Mark, and I stand among the flames praising them. Burn my brother, burn.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Mark was vaguely aware of the heat and the smell of smoke. Alarm bells blared in the back of his mind and he battled with his eyes at last prying them open. His head ached and his face was sticky with blood, the taste of ash hung heavy on his tongue, the smell of his own hair smoking stung his nose. He gasped, straining for air and choking on the bitter pain that burned his lungs, his eyes leaked tears blurring his vision. Numbly he managed to get to his knees and crawl, his head still swam dizzily and with each breath of smoke it only became worse. He wasn't even sure where he was going. The room was so smoky he was completely disoriented. Furniture crackled and popped as the leaping tongues of fire overtook it, he could see the outline of the t.v. and smell the plastic melting, which way to go?

The room started to spin and Mark felt the unfamiliar sensation of panic. He was too used to handling things cooly and being in control, the feeling of helplessness was nearly foreign to him.

His emotions began to flare like the fire around him, thoughts cascaded through his mind, his daughters growing up without their father was not a future he intended on. He wished he had been given the chance to talk to Kane, to remember everything before it was too late. Bits and pieces drifted through his mind and none of it made sense. The only thing he knew was that he had not intentionally hurt his brother, it was Bearer. He had no memory of it just a sense of knowing. Mark tore at his sizzling hair and a frantic, frustrated, yowl burst from him and in rage he slammed his fists to the ash covered carpet. Twin bolts of lightning leapt from his clenched fists and snaked their way, white tendrils of electricity, across the carpet and disappeared into the thick smoke. What…the…hell?

Mark had no time to understand what had just happened. He thought for a moment he had hallucinated it, that did make the most sense after all, but the way things had been going today learning that Glen was not real and that Kane was his brother, well Mark wasn't sure what to think. He crawled through the smoke praying to find his front door. Smoke clawed at his throat and the tender tissue of his nostrils charring, biting, and suffocating him.

Mark reached for the doorknob finally finding his portal to salvation. His hand wrapped around the exit, immediately burned. Pain blasted through his clenched hand. He pulled it back with a scream and saw the flesh bubbling angrily and the skin sliding away.

I am not going to die this way.

Mark closed his eyes and concentrated on first blocking the pain from his throbbing hand. He willed it away and slowly opened his eyes focusing them on the door, focusing on the outside, focusing on where he wanted to be…outside with the soft grass under his feet, the night air caressing him, the stars winking down like many watchful eyes, the fire far behind.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The night air nips at my skin, exposed to its wanting fingers. In the darkness a light glows bright, in the distance my brother burns. His ranch billows black tendrils of fire, entwining and swirling against the inky night sky, one caressing the other like two dark lovers. Beneath the smoke the flames rise dancing like mad beings hungry and gnawing at the bones of what was his home, what was his body.

I can close my eyes and imagine the flame creeping up his legs and singeing his hair. I open them and am surprised to feel tears drip down my cheeks. I'm not sure what they're for. I suppose I'm just happy that he's finally gone. My revenge has finally been satiated. I stand alone, the person I was always meant to be. No longer am I locked away inside my own mind but I am freed to be me, to be Kane. Glen Jacobs is dead, his memory all that's left of that lie, and Mark rests with him. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…Glen to Kane…

I feel like this sucked…please be honest. It's Taker's fault he keeps bugging the living daylights out of me with this fic. That's why I haven't updated in ages and ages he wanted in and I didn't want it that way gah! He had to get his way. Because of Mark there is now so much more to this whole thing, which means another fic is in the works…I'm not sure if it's a sequel, prequel, or both. I'm going to really kill Taker…wait…I can't…he's dead already. Damn. I didn't want anything to do with the powers…I didn't want it but they did. It was supposed to be just about Glen becoming Kane as the title states but geesh it's so much more now. *pulls hair* What to do with my musi. I will post something else in the future, like I said a sequel or prequel or maybe both at some point but it will be a while. I want to finish some others before starting more new stuff. It's a very bad habit I have and I'm trying to break it.

Please flame if this chapter sucked, I wanna know. I feel like I let people down with the ending but this is how Taker and Kane wanted it. As for the story over all…how was it? Did I do good with Kane? I hope so. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this fic. It's been the hardest because Kane is very unpredictable muse and since Taker started in he up and disappeared so yeah…but anyway…this is it. :) Thank you! Xxooxx