Hiya friends! I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season. Mine was outrageously busy, but that's what I get for leaving everything to the last possible minute. I hope you enjoy the update! The next chapter will be posted by Friday :)

**WARNING: This chapter contains strong, coarse language and graphic violence.**

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, Beauty and the Beast, the characters, or their likenesses. No copyright infringement intended.

"Ah, Little Red Riding Hood," Mason laughed as Damon stalked into the cold stone room, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. Stefan had easily tracked Mason down in the woods and swiped him; from the numerous bloodstains speckling the werewolf's shirt it appeared that the bellicose younger Salvatore hadn't been gentle about the ordeal either. Both he and his brother were raised to be warriors and, much to chagrin of many in the household, it was an old habit that wouldn't be put to rest. "Looks like you're all patched up after your run in with the Big Bad Wolf."

"Get out," Damon ordered Will and Stefan. He stood before Mason shaking in anger and it was all he could do not to rip his heart from his chest the second he opened his mouth.

"Damon, I don't real—" Will argued; he had never grown the stomach for violence. Despite his close friendship with Damon, he didn't approve of the Salvatore method for imposing order. Over the past few years he was more frequently able to talk Damon down to peaceful negotiations with the wolf pack but the way that his master's fists trembled at his side and the veins gathering around his eyes sent a shiver up his spine. Damon would not be talked down tonight.

"Get. Out," Damon reaffirmed in a voice that left no room for argument. Stefan looked over at Will and gestured towards the door with a nod of his head and the two men retreated.

"Are you trying to get me in private and seduce me, Salvatore?" Mason simpered, knowing that he was getting under Damon's skin. "You should know, I don't put out on the first date."

"Why were you tracking Elena?" Damon asked in a calm tone that belied the inferno that was raging inside him.

"Elena? Is that her name?" Mason closed his eyes and moaned subtly. "Elena, pretty name for a pretty girl."

"You are not fit to speak her name," Damon growled as he threw a bone-splitting punch as Mason's jaw. The chair that he was tied to toppled over but Damon caught him by the neck before he collided with the stone floor, wrenching him upright with enough force to bruise his airways.

"Kind of touchy about your little pet, Salvatore," Mason said as his smile widened into a sadistic grin. "I mean I would be, too. It's probably not often you get a piece of ass that tight out here. Did you have to compel her like all the others? Can't imagine a sweet little thing like Elena having any interest in the likes of an asshole like you."

"You just don't know when to shut up do you, Lockwood?" Damon growled, the veins around his eyes beginning to pulse harder. He hated losing his composure and letting his vampire visage slip. He knew he was losing control, which was the worst idea to give Mason; he couldn't let him know that he had a weakness. Weaknesses begged exploitation in this world and he'd never be able to live with himself if Elena was caught in the crossfire.

"Is that your scary monster face coming out to play? Grr, Lugosi, you're kinda turning me on," Mason chided, noticing the internal battle Damon was waging. The vampire quickly turned away and grabbed for a wrought iron poker that he plunged into the flames of the fireplace.

"Oh, no, this is—" Mason devolved into a hysterical fit of laughter, barking his ridicule at Damon. "This is rich, you think she's The One."

Damon was perfectly still and silent except for an almost unperceivable tick in his jaw that Mason would have missed had he been human. He calmly pulled the now red-hot poker from the flames and his icy blue eyes landed back on his prisoner.

"Oh shit, I can't even—" the man continued to laugh maniacally, his green eyes dancing with vicious mirth at Damon's expense. "This is so fucking Disney. I have to say, it's worth getting my heart ripped out just to see what a pussy you've become. The great and fearsome Damon Salvatore tripping over himself over some backwoods high school cheerleader. Does she even know what kind of monster you are?"

Without a moment of hesitation Damon skewered Mason's shoulder with the poker, delighting in the sizzling of his flesh and his howls of pain. There was no doubt that the entire manor would know what Damon was doing in the basement. But by now, most of them knew better than to interfere.

"Not so sassy now are we Fido?" Damon smirked as Mason attempted to catch his breath. As soon as his lungs filled enough he laughed sarcastically, his eyes meeting Damon's with a calculating glare.

"How long until one of your ripper minions slips and eats your girl? You know as well as I that she's as good as dead here. And honestly what kind of life could you ever give her? Bright, vivacious little thing that, something tells me she's not going to see the fairytale mystique of sleeping next to a cold undead corpse like you for the rest of her short life or having to explain to people that you're not her son when she hits the golden years. That's if you even let her out of her cage long enough to speak with her own kind."

With each venomous word that passed his lips Mason wheedled deeper and deeper into Damon's greatest fears. Nothing the man said had been untrue. He couldn't offer Elena a normal, human life. He couldn't keep her warm at night. He couldn't give her children. He couldn't grow old with her. He couldn't have any of those things unless he broke the curse. The cruel irony was that he could be a man she could love if she fell in love with the monster that he had become.

"But I suppose you want her to turn, huh? Then she can be your stand-in for Katherine," Mason mused casually.

"Don't even mention that name in my home!" Damon roared and drove the poker into Mason's belly, scraping his ribs purposefully.

"You're just full of sensitivity tonight, Salvatore," Mason panted stubbornly attempting to withhold the satisfaction of his suffering from Damon. "Good thing those Petrova cunts aren't that common or you'd be a hot mess buddy."

"What did you call her?"

"Ah come on, Damon. I know your spidey senses are better than that. You heard exactly what I said. Listen up," Mason smiled and tilted his ear towards the door. "Here comes your jail bait cunt right now."

Before he even had time to stretch his smile Damon plunged his fist into Mason's chest and yanked his heart from the confines of his ribcage. His body slumped against the restraints and his head lolled forward as a thin ribbon of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. Damon tossed the warm knot of muscle towards the fireplace and made for the door, closing it behind him just as Elena approached.

"Oh my god, Damon!" Elena cried and rushed to his side, cradling his bloodied hand between hers. She inspected his hand tenderly, turning it over and brushing her thumbs across his knuckles. For a moment he contemplated lying and that he had merely cut himself on a broken glass so she would tend to his wound like she had his bites. His gut told him that she wouldn't be ok with what really happened. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Damon answered stonily, pulling his hand away from her. "It's not mine."

Elena's face paled several shades as she stared at the blood that was now covering her own hands. There were tears in her eyes when she looked back up at him.

"Whose is it then?" she asked weakly. The way her bottom lip trembled pained him so deeply that he wished he lived in a world where he could have let Mason off with a stern warning. Three centuries had taught Damon that wishing was futile and he buried the gnawing seeds of regret immediately.

"No one who matters," he shrugged and headed back upstairs to the warmth and civility of the parlor for a celebratory drink. The reality was that Mason had been a thorn in his side for months but he'd never had the justification to eliminate him. The thought crossed his mind to pour Elena a drink as well since she was the catalyst for solving a long-running problem. Maybe he deserved a second drink for his optimistic approach to the situation.

"Damon, whose blood is this?" she insisted as she followed him into the parlor. She was trying to be brave but he didn't miss the telltale quiver of her voice that underlined how afraid she really was.

"Mason Lockwood. Remember him?" Damon asked in an almost-cheerful tone as he tossed another heavy log on the fire. He couldn't help but be a little smug about his victory, despite the price. "The night of your idiotic little escape attempt that nearly got both you and me killed?"

"Did you kill him?" she asked after a pause.

"Yes, Elena, I killed him. That's how this works." He had to hold back an eye roll. Humans and their hang ups, he thought to himself.

"This is all my fault," Elena muttered to herself, staring at the bloodstains on her palms. "It's all my fault."

"Pretty much," Damon shrugged and poured two fingers of bourbon into a crystal tumbler. He could hear Elena's heart stutter and a sharp intake of breath before he could smell the salt of her tears sliding over her rosy cheeks. When he turned to look at her she had her arms wrapped around her middle and she seemed impossibly small in the cavernous room. "Shit, Elena, I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't," she sobbed and jumped away from him as he approached her. "Just, please don't touch me. I need to go wash this blood off."

"Elena," he called after her but he could only hear her footsteps retreating farther down the hall. "Fuck!" he shouted and hurled his glass into the fire, getting little satisfaction from the way the flames sparked. He could feel the progress he had made with her slipping away.

Elena flew down the maze of dark hallways towards her room, passing a small reading room on the way where she hadn't seen Lexi and Rose lounging with two other women she had yet to meet. They were enjoying a bottle of wine and playing Whist with a worn deck of cards.

"Elena, wait!" Lexi called out as her and Rose jumped from their chaises and followed after her. It wasn't until they had caught up to her that they noticed she was trembling like a leaf. "Oh my goodness, Elena, what happened?"

"I can't be here anymore," Elena said frantically, pulling at the roots of her hair. "It's my fault he's dead. It's all my fault! I want to go home! I can't be here with that… that monster anymore! I'm so scared!"

Rose wrapped her arms around Elena as she sunk to the floor sobbing hysterically. Lexi knelt beside the two and rubbed her back in the only gesture she could remember as comforting from her human years. The two women exchanged a knowing look over the girl's crown before their heads turned almost simultaneously to take in a lone figure at the border of darkness at the end of the hall. Human eyes could not have seen the look of pain on Damon's face or the solitary tear that tracked down his face as he turned away. What little was left of his heart shattered with Elena's words and he had no one the blame but himself.

A/N: Whew! That was tough, if you've read my other work you know how big of a stretch this is for me so I'd really appreciate your input :) Feed the comment box and check back on Friday for a new chapter!

~XOXO Anna