Because once you can hurt, you can love. ~Lexi

Damon

It was cold, and dark. His head was pounding, and he couldn't tell if his clothes were soaked with blood, sweat, water, tears..or all of the above. It was damp, uncomfortably so, and his ring was gone, so he kept having to push himself back into the corner when a beam of sunlight would come down from the crack in the ceiling. Moving made him sick, and he'd end up putting his head between his knees. And the clicking above him was driving him insane. . It was soon joined by a set of louder noises, slower. .thud. The clicking stopped for a while before kicking up again, faster and harder now, and then the sound of wood being pounded. God, could he not have five minutes of peace? The sun wasn't down on him yet, so he was lying on the cold ground, and he was trying to let darkness take him over, but the sounds were driving him up the wall, and his mind wasn't being quiet either.

Where was he, and how did he get here? He had been upstairs, on his couch, drinking and enjoying the only sound being the fire crackling. The scotch was burning his throat, but he really didn't care anymore, he thought he deserved the pain. He knew it. He'd killed so many people. Vicky, Anna, Lexi, Jessica, Caroline, Bonnie, Jeremy. Well, those last three didn't really die, but Elena still blamed him for it. And Anna didn't die at his hand, but he still felt guilty for it. Damn. He hated this. He had turned his emotions off for so long, and killed so many, and he never cared. Ever. It was always a game to him; he was the Katherine in the Petrova line, and Stefan was Elena. Elena. She's the reason he turned his emotions back on in the first place. It wasn't even intentional, but he trusted her - who knew trust was an emotion - and when she backstabbed him, and got the grimoire with Stefan so he couldn't have the one thing he wanted so badly, it hurt. Badly. And, stupid him, he kept digging, and trying to figure out why it hurt him so bad, and then he figured it out. The emotion love had slipped into his heart. He was in love with Elena.

He had buried the emotion for so long, and just let her be with Stefan. And he was okay. And then she was back, Katherine. His 'first love' - or so he thought - and she came to his house, and ripped his heart out. She was gentle about it - didn't insult him in anyway - just blunt and honest. "I never loved you; it was always Stefan."

Which burned like hell. He sat down, he cried, he got drunk. And in his intoxicated state of mind, he realized what he needed. He needed someone he could talk to, someone he could confine in, someone he could trust and cry too.

He needed Elena.

But going to the woman you really love when you are upset and drunk is not a good combination.

She asked if he was drinking, and he gestured, "A little.." and she noticed the tear stains on his face. Told him he was upset - no shit. He didn't like be told he was anything. And when he denied it, she then told him he cared. He glared at her, and poured what his drunken self thought was his heart out, and he kissed her. And she didn't kiss him back, but when she pulled away he could tell she wanted to. He went to hold her hand, and she held it back, which is what let him know she felt the same, and that trust was there, in his eyes, and he was open and vulnerable and she stabbed him with the words, "I love Stefan, it's always gonna be Stefan."

He nearly broke down crying and fell into her arms again. When Katherine said it, he felt like he'd been slapped, but when Elena said it..she might as well have just staked him right there. He squeezed her hand, his eyes pleading, and then her charming little brother came in. "Everything okay in here?"

And when he snapped, he snapped Jeremy's neck too.

Thank God for that ring, it's the only thing that made Elena even semi concerned for his well being.

He sniffled, tears stinging his eyes at that memory. Was something wrong with him? Was he just not good enough for anyone? His dad hated him, he had two women using him as some sort of play toy, and his brother wished he'd drop dead. The only one who ever cared about him was his mom, and he was eight when she died. He didn't even know, maybe she didn't care either. Maybe that's why she had Stefan. Stefan had killed her. She birthed him and then she passed, less than a week later, because something was wrong with the pregnancy. And, for some reason, Damon was left being abused and hated by his father.

By everyone.

He jumped suddenly, groaning loudly when it caused him an intense amount of pain, when he heard the door creak. It was either too dark, or he was too injured to see that far, but he got scared anyway. He tried to back up, but the man's foot was on his thigh and he let out a small cry and fell back on the floor.

"Vamps.." He hissed above him, digging his heal into the flesh of Damon's thigh, getting a low whimper to hold back the agonized scream. Why did everything hurt? His jeans weren't wet, so he knew he wasn't bleeding there, so why did the pressure make him want to writhe and scream?

"Ain't vervain a wonderful thing?" Asked the tormenter. "Granted, you needed a good helping of it, in several locations, but..Oh well. You're down now."

"Who are you?" Damon choked out, his throat catching on fire in the process.

"You don't recognize me?" The smirk was clear in his voice. "I tried to kill your girl."

Damon snarled, still sounding vicious in his weak state.

"Yes, little Elena," He continued. "She's worried about you. Dreadfully. God only knows why."

He leaned down, face mere inches away from Damon's, hissing, "She will never see you again, vampire. Your reign of terror ends here."