Merry Christmas, people! Happy holidays! Here's my gift to you: a oneshot about tortured Damon. What can I say? I love tortured Damon and I love to torture him even more.

This is partly inspired by the torture scene in The Murder of One.

As usual, bigger version of the cover is available on my Tumblr.

All my agony fades away when you hold me in your embrace

~ All I Need by Within Temptation

~ Beautifully Broken ~

Damon did it again. He pissed someone off and the man wanted revenge, and let me tell you, he got it. He snuck up to my boyfriend, injected him with enough vervain that would surely kill him had he not gotten partial immunity to it, and kidnapped him in broad daylight.

That didn't stop me from tracking the smell that I'm so used to by now, a perfect mixture of bourbon and that manly cologne Damon always doses himself in as though his life depends on it, bursting through the old, squeaky door like a fury on crack and snapping the captor's neck like a twig. No one harms my boyfriend and lives to get away with it.

No one.

I don't kill people. Really, I don't. But when you threaten my boyfriend's life and put him through a hell of a torture, that's serious business. And you will die for it.

I found Damon dangling from the ceiling, his wrists bound by some kind of metallic wires that cut deep into his skin. His shirt was ripped open, exposing his perfectly toned chest that was now covered in cuts of different shapes and sizes, and I tried my hardest not to think too much about what kinds of torture instruments could have possibly done that. They say ignorance is bliss and right now I couldn't agree more with that statement.

Around his neck was a spiked collar that appeared to be made out of the same kind of wire, buried in deep. It was obvious the wounds had tried to heal, but couldn't due to the metal being wrapped so tightly, and instead the skin regenerated around the thing, burying it even deeper into his pale, injured neck.

In short, he was a bloody mess and in dire need of help which I was all too eager to provide.

"Elena?" he breathed out in such a tired manner that my eyes teared up at the mere sound of his voice. Damon wasn't weak, not like this. Never like this. He sounded like a wounded child, so vulnerable and fragile, as though a single rougher touch would shatter him into thousands of pieces. His head, that had just moments ago hung low, now slightly turned up, his half-closed eyes searching for my own.

"I'm here, Damon," I assured him, running over to him in my vampire speed. My hands cupped his cheeks and I pressed my forehead against his as gently as I could as I placed a small kiss onto his dry, fractured lips. "You're safe. He can't hurt you anymore."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sincerely puzzled, obviously wondering why anyone would bother searching for someone like him. Even after all this time, after all we've been through together, he was still that bad boy with a hidden heart of an angel, a tortured soul that hated himself and couldn't understand why anyone would nor could love him.

"I came for you," I said.

"You should leave."

Here we go again.

My grip on his cheeks tightened as I slightly shook him. "Look at me, Damon," I ordered and his eyes, that had closed for just a moment in a yet another display of weakness, snapped open, grazing widely into mine. "You'll survive this. You always do. Come on, stay with me. Please."

It wasn't a request – it was a demand.

"I guess it's true what they say – love does make you stupid," he snarked, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and I allowed myself a chuckle. Only Damon Salvatore can turn an insult into a compliment and make it sound so fucking amazing.

It felt good to see him smile after everything that's happened to him in the past few hours. A normal person in his condition would crash, shut down and crumble into a crying, pitiful mess, but not him. He was a fighter, a survivor like no other. He had more than a hundred years of experience in these kinds of situations and I could see he got his feelings, both physical and emotional, under perfect control.

What that man put him through was terrible, but I will make it better, I decided. I made it my mission to ensure he got back home safely and I'll be damned if I mess anything up. I will make him better or I will die trying. After he's been there for me all those times I was in need of comfort, he deserved to be cared for and looked after for once in his ridiculously long lifetime.

"Tell me what to do," I said, motioning for the collar. "How do I remove it?"

"In the middle," he rasped and then his eyes closed again, and he zoned off into the safety of his own mind for a second that seemed to last for ages. He took a deep breath before continuing: "There's a… there's a switch or something… I don't know, I heard it click and…"

"It's okay," I said, for some reason needing to assure him he did good and that his instructions would help. I felt up the metallic wires that encircled my boyfriend's neck and sure enough, right in the very middle, there was a switch. Those were good news.

The bad news were that more than half the collar had basically grown into his skin and removing it… well, let's just say it would hurt like a bitch.

"Oh, my god," I said, panicking, my heart rate speeding up by the second. Damon's eyes darted over to mine again and I could basically see question marks floating in those beautiful pools of crystal blue.

"Did you find it?" he inquired.

I nodded with a gulp. "Yeah, but…"

"But what, Elena?" he demanded.

I took a deep, steady breath and said: "Your skin, it healed and… This thing is under it. It… It'll hurt."

"Do it," he said without a hint of hesitation. If it was me, I would've kicked and screamed instead of being so nonchalant about it, yet to him it was nothing. It was as though he was used to pain and it didn't hurt him as much as it would hurt anyone else, and I didn't know if that should disturb me or make me burst into a joyous song at him not being harmed as much as I thought he'd be.

"But-"

"Remove the damn thing, Elena," he snapped. Upon seeing the hurt in my eyes, he added in a much lighter tone: "Please."

"Alright," I finally said. "I'll be gentle, but no promises."

"Just get it out."

I fiddled with the metal for a bit, pressing at the switch until, at last, it snapped open. Damon hissed, twitching as a sudden rush of pain struck him, and I was quick to caress his cheek and press a light kiss to it as a form of an apology.

"I'm sorry."

"Pull it," Damon rasped.

"I'll do my best to make it as painless as possible," I promised, tears trailing down my cheeks in streams, a rush of all emotions I kept buried inside in hopes of being strong for him erupting in salty liquid form, clouding my vision for a short moment before I wiped my still wet eyes enough to allow me to see.

Then, with all the strength I could muster, I ripped the collar off and threw it away. Blood gushed out a newly torn wound, tiny drops slipping down my boyfriend's already bloody torso. I expected more, to be honest. This wasn't healthy; there wasn't nearly enough blood pouring out as there should have been, though it was understandable considering his condition.

There was a thick, rusty-red pool right under his feet, an obvious sign he was almost completely drained and the only thing holding him together was either a strong will to live or my very presence. Come to think of it, he did appear a bit livelier when I came into view. I was his true love after all. It was crystal clear: he loved me as much as I loved him, probably even more, in his own Damon way that not many people, not even I, could ever completely comprehend. I was his miracle just like he was mine.

We were lucky to have each other.

I was glad he had so much strength in him. That was the Damon I fell in love with: strong, confident, and almost completely indestructible. It would take a lot more than a little bit of torture to completely break him.

"There. It's done," I said, sighing in relief. My ecstatic expression grew serious at his lack of response or any kind of reaction. "Damon? You still with me?"

"I'm fine, Elena," he said after a short moment that seemed to last forever.

It was then that I noticed something strange. His wounds were still there, freshly open and very, very painful. "Why aren't you healing?" I asked, panicking, the thought of this agony continuing sending my body into an overdrive of grieving emotions, my thoughts a mess of words that screamed all the wrong things that I didn't want to hear, especially not right now.

I just knew one thing: he was supposed to heal.

"I need blood," he explained.

Of course. He was drained; he needed something to drink and he needed it fast. "Would mine help?"

Damon gave a weak shake of his head. "Human."

"Okay, let's hurry this up and get you all better, then," I said, more to myself than to him.

I rose to my tiptoes and pulled at the metallic, spiky wires holding his left wrist in their tight, unpleasant embrace, ripping them off their hinges. I snatched them off and his hand fell down, his body following, and I had to resort to my vampire speed to catch him before his body hit the stone cold ground.

"I got you."

He hissed in pain and it was then that I realized the metal dug itself deeper into his other wrist at the sudden pull of his entire body's weight and I was quick to release it before it could cause any more damage – he was already injured enough as it was.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, clinging to him as though my life depended on it.

He fell to his knees, my arms still around him in the form of a protective shield, and I kneeled before him to look him in the eyes.

"Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, but I tend to ask those a lot and Damon, probably used to me being an idiot at times, gave no indication he'd heard me.

"Hey, hey. Listen." I brought one hand to his cheek, my other one still serving as support, wrapped tightly around his shoulders. "I know it hurts, but I need you to be strong for just a little while, okay?"

"I need blood Elena," Damon said. It came off as more of a request than a statement.

"I know. And you'll get it. But first we need to get you out of here." I looked around before focusing my gaze solely on him again. "Do you think you can vamp-speed?"

He shot me a are-you-serious kind of look and I instantly realized the stupidity of my question (I did say I have my idiot moments. You can't say I didn't warn you). Then he shook his head, accompanying it with a barely audible: "No."

"Okay, then I'll speed us out. The car is right outside. Just hold on tight."

I just hoped I could do it right. I haven't vamp-sped with other people much in the short while I've been a vampire, and those few times I did, it was with other vampires who were in their full strength. I had no experience in carrying an injured man, let alone one that looked like he would break apart if I was to make one wrong move.

The thought of hurting him terrified me to no end. I would never be able to live with myself if something was to happen to him under my watch, while I was supposed to be caring for him. I would rather die than put him in danger or risk harming him, even unintentionally.

"You drop me and there'll be no sex for a month," he threatened mockingly, obviously noticing my doubts and attempting to lighten the sour mood.

It worked.

"Like you could go that long without sex," I said, snorting.

Damon shrugged. "Just saying."

"So am I," I retorted playfully, securing him in my embrace, hoping to all deities I could think of that nothing bad comes out of this and that we both get out of this situation unharmed – or in his case, harmed less than he already was.

Apparently I did manage to harm him, only not quite in the way I thought.

"You took my car?"

He said it as if it was the most outrageous thing I could have done. Which to him it probably was.

"Seriously? That's what you have a problem with?" I wondered, raising my eyebrow. He shot me a glare and I rolled my eyes.

No: "Elena, you're so smart"; no: "You're the best girlfriend ever"; hell, not even a simple: "Thank you." All he did was bitch, bitch, and then bitch some more and it was seriously starting to piss me off. I could see why that man felt tempted to torture him. I was getting torturous thoughts, and not the pleasant kind.

"I don't see what the big deal is," I stated, trying to remain calm.

"That's my car," he hissed. "Only I get to drive it."

"You are not going anywhere near the wheel in that condition," I said in a strict tone of voice, sounding almost like a mother scolding an impudent child.

So he, like the impudent child he now convinced me he was, pouted, and it was the most adorable thing I've ever seen. Who knew a man covered in blood and open wounds from head to toe could look so cute? All my anger instantly vanished, replaced by a rush of warmth and stomach-quivering butterflies. I just wanted to hug him, shower him with kisses and love, and tell him how very much in love with him I was because for some reason I felt compelled to do all that, not necessarily in that order.

That was the power of Damon Salvatore. You can never stay mad at him for long. He doesn't even have to use compulsion to make you obey his every demand, be it verbal or implied.

He made a sudden turn, startling me, and we both almost collapsed, though luckily I was quick to tighten my grip around him. "What are you doing?" I demanded. "You'll hurt yourself."

"I want to check for damages."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?" I cupped his cheeks, staring him directly in the eyes, grabbing a bit too roughly if his gulp was any indication. "Now listen to me, and listen carefully. You forget about the stupid car and get in so we can go home and feed you. You hear me? I won't repeat myself. That thing," I gestured to the car, "means nothing to me. You do. And if getting you to safety means trashing your precious Camaro, I'm all for it. Because I will always choose you."

To my greatest surprise, this shut him up, prompting him to only mutter a simple: "Let's go."

It did, however, take me a while to convince him to make himself as comfortable as possible on the backseat until we arrived to the boarding house. He whined on the way about getting blood on his precious seats, but I shut most of it off, my thoughts occupied by one thing and one thing only: getting him better.

Because nothing else mattered more than that.

I sped us to our bedroom and carefully helped him sit before rushing to get enough blood bags to satisfy his hunger and his body's natural need for blood. I couldn't stand looking at him like that anymore, so sore and vulnerable and unlike himself. I wanted my snarky, jerkass Damon back, and I wanted him back right now because this wasn't him.

When I returned, I found him laying on his back, his mouth forming a firm, straight line indicating hidden pain, his eyes squeezed shut. I dropped the blood bags by his side and then crawled on top of bed alongside him, gently tapping his cheek to get him to look at me.

"Hey," I said with a smile. "I brought food. Interested?"

He smirked through pain and then made a slow movement with his arm, indicating for me to help him sit back up. It was strange to see him ask for assistance, for both him and me, and I could see embarrassment on his face as I wrapped my arms around his torso and slowly raised him up.

"It's okay," I said reassuringly. "There is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't need to be coddled, Elena," he said with a hint of snippiness in his voice, though it was clear as day his words meant the opposite. He was just too much of a macho man to admit it and it drove me crazy to have him act like this. He should have known that I wouldn't judge him. I always encouraged him to be himself around me no matter what.

True, sometimes his versions of himself didn't sit too well with me (his murderous tendencies, for example), but I always turned a blind eye to every flaw, every mistake, every fucking bad decision he ever made because that's how much I loved him and I wasn't going to give up on him, not now that I finally found him and got him all to myself.

And if I wanted to coddle him, I would fucking coddle him.

"Stop being an ass and just drink," I retorted.

"I wouldn't have to be an ass if you weren't such a nuisance," he snapped.

"Did you just call me a nuisance for caring for you?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Weren't you listening?"

I could see he was running out of energy, the tiny bits of strength he had using themselves up in this pointless argument that he started. Why was it always so difficult for him to admit when he needed help? Why did he have to be so damn proud instead of just accepting my attempts at helping him get better? Because that's all I ever wanted to do and if I had to fight him to ensure that he would be okay, then fine.

I was ready to do just about anything for his sake.

"I won't let you do this," I proclaimed, shaking my head. "I won't. You drink that blood bag and get yourself healed, and then we are gonna have a talk."

"You-" he started, his voice getting weaker, and I cut him off before he could say anything more and prolong this pointless argument.

"Now, Damon!"

Frowning, he reached for the blood bag, only to stumble halfway over, almost falling off the bed had I not been there to catch him. He couldn't even feed himself. Great. If his pride felt threatened before, this would surely be a low blow.

But I didn't care. If hurting his pride meant getting him all healed up, then be it. I wouldn't mind him hating me after he's done recovering.

I leaned over to him, putting an arm around him from behind, my other one reaching for the blood bag. I brought it to his mouth and one of his hands weakly rose to grab it, and I could see the strength leaving his body despite him clinging on to it like a desperate man he was.

I covered his hand with mine in support and whispered into his ear: "Come on, drink. Please. It's okay."

For the first time in the past few minutes he did as told. Veins crept over his skin below his eyes, redness surrounding them, the poorly lit room making him look like the most beautiful monster I have ever seen. My beautiful monster, I thought, slightly tightening my grip on him, though he didn't seem to notice, lost in his newfound strength that rushed through his veins at lightning speed.

His sharp fangs pierced the bag as he bit into it and tore its top off, taking a large sip and draining it in seconds before grabbing another one, and then another, and another, until there was nothing left. I slowly let him take control, completely removing my hands as soon as I was sure he could feed on his own, a bit hurt he didn't require my help anymore.

I liked to care for him. It made me feel useful and, in a way, powerful. After all, it was me who got him out of that place, me who saw him at his worst. I just wanted to be sure he was okay. No, I needed to be sure or else I felt like I would go insane.

"Let me see," I said and Damon looked at me, baffled. I took his hand into my own, my eyes scanning his wrists. A grin spread over my face at the sight of the wounds slowly closing until they completely vanished as though they were never there, the only traces of them dried, crusty blood that still clung to his soft, flawless skin. "This is good. Wait. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" he asked in puzzlement.

I returned in literally a blink of an eye, in my hands a wet cloth I snatched from the bathroom. I was quickly at Damon's side; I brought the cloth to his face, making small, light movements, wiping at the bloody smears that tarnished the natural beauty that was him.

"That's what showers are for," he said as though he was talking to a toddler and I just giggled.

"First we have to have that talk," I reminded, raising my forefinger and waving it in his face.

I decided to get straight to the point. There would be no use in dodging the issue. Sometimes you just have to fire a bullet and bite it. Or something like that. I wasn't exactly sure how the phrase went; I just knew that this conversation was much needed for both sides. He needed to hear what I had to say and I needed to say it lest I'd go insane – and we all know how well it went last time I snapped.

"You need to stop being a smartass and let me take care of you. I know you're proud and stubborn and… lots of other things, but the thing is, even badasses need help sometimes. Yes, I did just call you a badass, and no, I don't regret a thing."

We laughed, our hands linking almost instinctively as we leaned closer to each other. Our foreheads rested against one another, our noses barely touching, and my eyes instantly trailed down to his lips, so swollen and pouty and begging mine to crash into them.

"I don't do feelings, Elena," Damon said softly. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm just… not used to being treated like this."

I understood him perfectly. From what I gathered, their father was a fan of discipline, and back in those days discipline equaled what we consider abuse these days. Then came Katherine and lots of other things that turned him into what he is today, that made him into the man I fell for and would give my life for in a heartbeat. When you get hurt as much as he has over the years, you learn to suck it up and pretend to be tough.

Only I wasn't big on pretending. I wanted him to feel free to express himself

"I know. I'll teach you," I said, grazing my lips against his for a small taste before the real thing came. "Don't ever, for even a second, think you don't deserve this, okay? Because you do. You deserve all of this; you deserve me. Did you really think I'd leave you to be tortured by some maniac?"

"I thought it would take some time for people to notice I'm missing," he said, dodging the real answer we both knew he wanted to say, but couldn't force the words to come out of his mouth.

He may be playing tough guy, a bad boy, but the truth is, he's just a scared man that was broken in so many ways, whose soul is so beautiful despite his many flaws. And it was that that attracted me to him in the first place. The spark, the fire, and the hidden, broken beauty well hidden behind those castle walls he built and that only I had access to because he let me for he deemed me worthy.

"I will always notice, Damon," I said, squeezing his hand to prove I really meant it. "I love you. You're not alone anymore; you will never be alone again. You have me."

"I'm bad for you, Elena," he said. "I will only bring you down."

"Then I'll go down with you because that's how much I love you."

Tears welled up in my eyes and his finger gently brushed one of them away.

"And I love you," he said after what seemed like forever. "With all my heart."

With that we melted into a kiss I've been waiting for for the entirety of this horrible day.

Hope you guys liked it!

Critiques are always welcome. Writing helps improve my English, but what also helps are corrections. So if you see mistakes, even typos, point them out. You'd be doing me a huge favor.