This chapters a bit shorter, but hope you enjoy!

Elena woke up the next morning to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Groggily, she lifted herself from the bed. There was a stiffness in her body and a slight pain when she flexed her muscles. It brought back the memories of the night before, and her mind cleared a little more.

"Damon?" She looked around. His side of the bed was empty. It clicked then that the water she had heard was the shower. She sat up, feeling more soreness. She stretched some, then stood, making her way to the bathroom.

The shower's glass door was covered in steam. The air thick with condensation, but she could make out Damon's sillouette through it. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to clean up herself, she stripped the shirt she'd pulled over herself sometime during the night and tapped on the door.

"Yeah?" Damon called.

"Move over," she joked, pulling the door open wide enough to slip into the box.

Damon did as she asked, allowing her to step under the water, and she let the warmth flow down her back and over her shoulders.

"God, that feels good." She sighed, leaning back to wet her hair. Damon just watched her, until she was completely soaked and wiping water out of her eyes.

She saw him staring at her and smiled, eyeing his naked chest. "Goodmorning sexy."

He gave her a small smile back, before moving in front of her. He pushed her wet hair away from her face, and caressed her cheek in his hand. "Goodmorning yourself, beautiful."

She kissed his palm, then moved so they could both stand under the warm water.

"Look, about last night..."He started, "I really should have been more careful. I let my anger get the best of me and-"

"It's fine, Damon." She assured him, holding his gaze. He lowered his hand from her face, down her neck, to her chest. She saw the dried blood remaining there, and the indentions his teeth had left.

His hand continued down, tracing a few random bruises on her side, then gently brushing over the finger shaped ones on her waist. He stopped there, but she knew his eyes could see the ones that were also covering her inner thighs and calves.

He layed his head against hers.

"Damon, seriously, I'm okay, and I'm pretty sure we've done worse damage than this in the past."

"I know." He sighed, "It's just...never mind."

"No, what were you thinking?"She urged.

He smirked a little, "At the expense of you yelling at me again?"

"It's about your dad, isn't it," she asked tentavely.

"Yeah...guess it's kinda obvious."

She shrugged, "Well, you brought it up last night, after you downed half your bottle of alcohol."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Damon," she started again, "You really don't think you're like him, do you?"

He met her eyes, "You know I do."

"Why?"

He exhaled, stepping back a little, "Because I hurt people, Elena. Especially the people I'm suppose to care about. I feel angry irrationally, at times that I really even shouldn't. I hold on to things trivial enough to just let go, and I have this obsessive need to make things go my way. You pissed me off last night, so I left marks on your body. Does any of that sound familiar? Or if you want to get really twisted, how about the way I feel right now? As sick as it is, and as sorry as I am for it, I like the bruises on you. I like knowing I left myself on your skin, and that your blood has been in my mouth. It may be sadistic, but it feels right to me, seeing these marks on you, knowing that others will see them too. And you can tell me that I'm not like him?"

He didn't say this angrily, as she'd expected, but almost defeatedly. It broke her heart.

"Damon, don't you get it though, you're that way, because of him, not because you are like him."

His eyebrows pulled together, "What do you mean?"

"Well," she explained, "Anyone with your's and Stefan's history would have the right to hold anger. That's not uncommon in situations like yours, You think your unworthy because that's what you were raised up hearing, and after everything, all the shit he put you through...How many times did he force you down, beat you, hurt you, and there was nothing you could have done about it. He left you powerless against your will, is it really that much of a surprise that you now feel the need to control? To have everything in order so that doesn't happen again? And I'm yours, Damon, you know that. And part of you wants to stake that claim to everyone else. That's why this," she motioned to the wound on her neck, "makes you feel good. Not because you like hurting me, but because everyone will know that it was you that put it there, that I belong to you. It's a little twisted," she gave a small laugh, "but it's not sadistic. Just part of what you need to feel. It calms you. It's basic logic, Damon, but it doesn't make you like him."

He seemed to consider this, "I don't know...I still think it kind of does."

"He didn't love, Damon. Sad as it is, he didn't. Not you, or Stefan. You do, though. You love everyone here in your own way. Maybe you favor him in some ways, but it's not how the two of you are alike, but how you are different, that's important. And you have an inner strength that he would have never possesed. And all of this pent up rage, all of these emotions you don't want to deal with, thats what gives him power, Damon. It's been years." She took his face in her hands, "You can't keep letting him hurt you with his lies. Because you are good enough. You are important, and you have worth. I mean, you are everything to me. And despite everything, he didn't destroy you. Not unless you let him, but I know you better than that."

He wrapped his arms around her, just holding her, and she laid her head on his chest.

"Thank you,"He murmered against her hair, "For not giving up on me, even after the shit I put you through."

She leaned up and kissed him. "It's because I love you, and I can't lose you Damon, not even to yourself."

He nodded, and after a few moments, helped her wash her body, lightly cleaning each mark left behind, kissing her shoulder, down her arm.

She was glad that he was just being loving. She wasn't sure she could handle another round of sex. Not this morning. The ache between her legs wouldn't have made it a very pleseant experience, and maybe Damon knew that she was sore, because he was being extra gentle with her.

"I love you," He told her, while they towled themselves dry and walked over the threshold, into their room.

"Love you too," she told him, heading for her drawer, pulling out a pair of matching underwear.

She threw Damon a pair of breifs and headed to the closet.

"I have work later; I go in at five," She told him, checking the clock. She still had a few hours. She stripped the bedsheets off, and replaced them with some clean ones. She had to do laundry.

"You get off at ten?" He asked, fassening a pair of jeans.

"Twelve. I work until closing, and it's Friday. And I'll probably take Katherine with me. She's gonna be starting up there."

"Oh, okay. Well I don't go back in until tomorrow. Mason took my shift today, so I'll be here."

She nodded.

"So how are you feeling about Stefan and Kat?" He asked randomly.

"Um, I don't really know. I got a little...sidetracked, from thinking about it."

"Oh, well, you should probably figure it out soon."

She gave him a questioning look and he finished.

"When I woke up earlier, I went downstairs for a drink. The two were liplocked on the back patio.'

Elena sighed, "Great." She walked back over to the dresser, having thrown on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. It was going to be comfy mode until it was time to go to work.

"Is that a problem?" He asked, coming to stand behind her as she tossed her hair up in a messy bun.

"Not exactly. But I know she likes him, like legitimately likes him, not just that fooling around she was doing with Mason. And I don't want her to get hurt if Stefan is just fooling around."

"I don't know," Damon considered, "Stefan has been acting differently with her." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Maybe it's just something about you Petrova women?"

She would have slugged him for using her father's name if the way he accented it didn't sound so damn sexy. "I don't know, maybe."

Damon reached over to a top drawer and pulled out a travel sized first aid kit, "Here, let me clean these."

She stood still as he pulled out some cotton swabs, trugged to the bathroom, and came back with some peroxide. It stung a little as he dabbed her neck.

"Sorry," he said flatly, and she shrugged.

"It's not too bad."

He finished medicating the bitemarks, then placed a bandaid over two of the worser ones.

"There." He stated proudly.

"Thanks, babe."

He went to put the peroxide back in the bathroom, but Elena stopped him.

"Ah, wait. You too."

He gave her a confused look, but retraced his way to her again.

She motioned for him to turn around. "These." She said, tracing over the half healed lines her nails had left behind.

"Oh, damn, I'd forgotten about them."

She smiled, running a fresh cotton ball over them. They weren't bad enough to need bandaged, so she just cleaned them off, adding a little neasporn.

She finished, but continued to run her hands over the skin on his back. Maybe one day, he wouldn't be so self-concious of the scars. She trailed down each mark, carressing his shoulders, and leaned in close, pressing her lips against the words his father had burned into him. An eye for an eye, he'd said. The preacher had caught Damon smoking, and in return, had marked his sin with the burning end of the ciggarette.

She felt Damon's breathing deepen when she began kissing his flaws. Sliding her lips over the crevices. Some of the skin was smooth while others rose ridgid.

She leaned back to look at them.

"Will you tell me what happened?" she asked tentavely, knowing that this wasn't his favorite topic. Other than the few stories he'd told her, she had no idea where any of his marks had come from. Stefan was a little more open about the few scars on his shoulder and lower back, but Damon didn't usually aproach the topic.

"Do you really want to know?" Damon asked, almost warningly.

"Yes."

He sighed, turning to face her. He stared at her for a moment then walked over to the bed. She followed.

He sat down, angling his back toward her.

"I remember, every single one," he told her, "So which one do you want to know about?"

She thought for a minute, then traced a line of spaced peircings, like snake bites.

"Staple gun. Stefan took his tools from the shed. Dad was pissed, so I hid them in my room. He found them and accused me of being a theif."

She knew better than to offer comfort. If he felt like she was pitying him, he'd close up again. So instead, she touched the little holes that were scattered across his shoulders.

"I disobeyed him, not sure how, but I was his dartboard for three days. He kept me chained in the basement."

Elena closed her eyes and took a breath before moving on, "And this one?"

She pointed out an area of his skin that was raised, a healed burn.

"I refused to wear a suit to church one Sunday, so he tied me down. Mom had been ironing our clothes, so he grabbed it and pressed it to my skin, then made me wear the damn suit."

They continued like this for the next twenty minutes, Damon telling her the origin of each of his marks. She had to hold back tears when he shared some. Like when his father left him in the basement for a week, coming down daily to whip him, using everything from boards and chains, to belts and waterhoses. She learned that Damon had been starved often, and had missed a lot of school, due to his father's mistreatment. His father often used him as a punching bag, having broken two of his ribs before. He had also caused the fracture of one of Damon's legs and a broken wrist.

What got to her the most was that his mother had just stood by and let it happen.

"I think she was afraid to cross him." Damon told her, "She was always kind when father was gone, but she was smart. Smart enough not to get her own neck in trouble."

"But you were her son." Elena shook her head.

"Doesn't matter,"He shrugged."Some people only care about themselves. She was one of them. And I'm grateful that she at least helped Stefan stay out of trouble."

Elena sighed. "So did Stefan ever get taken to the basement."

Damon thought, "Once. We got into it over some broken game. Started fighting, as if we didn't have enough problems. Anyway, Dad caught us and said that we could never love our enemies if we couldn't love each other. Said that no sons of his were going to act that way. It wasn't too bad. He chained us, hit us some, made us stay the night down there. But It was church the next morning, so he let us out."

He turned back to her. "So you freaked yet?"

"I'm...sad." She admitted. "But I'm glad you told me. I knew it was bad, but that..." she cringed.

"I know," he sighed, pulling her closer to him.

"But it's okay now. You're safe, and here, with me. And nothing can hurt you."

He smiled a little. "You could."

"But I wouldn't," she promised. He pulled her back so they were laying on the bed, side by side, with their feet hanging off.

"I know that. And you're right, every thing is okay now."

They layed that way, intertwined, for a while. Eventually Caroline knocked on the door, calling them down for an early supper. Elena felt a lot better by that point. And closer to her love than ever. And it would be okay. Eventually. She'd make sure of it. Because, Damn it, if anyone deserved to be happy, it was the wonderful man who was looking at her like she was the only thing in his world.

Next chapter will have some Kat/Stefan! But I felt like Damon needed a more solid background. Some more Elena/Kat bonding too! So R&R!