She woke.

His eyes were steel until the first moment she opened hers. Then, in a blink, it was gone. His tense body relaxed enough and his eyes were now twin pools of a placid blue expanse. Still, he did not move. His stance was casual as he leaned against the wall in front of the bed--yet his hands were balled into fists. His voice was butterscotch.

"Elena?"

Elena's eyes went from unresponsive to focused in the matter of a split second. She looked down at herself and saw her dress, from neck to navel, was soaked in blood. The pain in her throat was now a pleasant throb. Her fingers moved over the wound--a large mass of torn flesh--and she felt the tiny movement of her arteries, ligaments and tissue repairing under her touch until it there was nothing but pristine cool flesh. She looked at Damon with new, feral eyes.

"I'm dead," she asked.

"No," he said calmly, "You're finally alive."

Elena looked about the room. It was as if everything was humming. Her entire body was wrapped in these new senses. Her eye sight was keen. The room was blanketed in darkness but she could see as clear as day. Her sense of smell was strong. She knew that there was a tiny mouse in the walls. She could hear his heartbeat, smell his blood, hear him scratching and moving about his daily business. Everything was washing over her at once and it was overwhelming and then...

Elena giggled lightly. She covered her mouth trying to stifle herself. But she couldn't help it and soon she was in a fit of uncontrolable laughter. She pressed herself deep into the bed and curled her toes into the satin. She knew Damon was watching her every move. He made no attempt to quiet her nor come near her. She finally stopepd and propped herself up against the pillows.

"Am I a zoo animal?"

"Come again?"

"Well, you're just standing there watching me. Like I'm a zoo animal."

Damon walked to a nearby table and grabbed a candelabra. He lit the wicks of the three candles, already melted down a part of the way, and set it on the nightstand near the bed. He moved with the stealth of a snake and was on top of her. He grabbed her chin and studied her. He yanked her head to the side and looked at where his teeth had sunk into not long before. The glow of the candle flickered all along her skin and cast golden shadows along the room.

"Well," He said finally, "You're my pet. So that's close enough."

He saw the look of indignation that crossed her features and he smirked. He kissed her, hard, on the mouth before moving off of her. He stood and looked down at her for a moment, thinking.

Before Elena could make anything of the situation, Damon grabbed her swiftly, and threw her over his shoulder. He pushed open an adjoining door with his foot before setting Elena in front of him. The tile is cold and Elena feels herself shiver more from human instinct than anything else.

"Lift your hands," he demanded.

She complied.

Damon's eyes watched hers as he ran his hand up her thigh and grabbed a fist full of her dress. He lifted the soaked "shroud" and tossed it the wastebasket. Elena's blood was smeared against her skin like paint. Damon stood back and appraised her like an prize. Her skin was pale like ivory and as smooth as china. She was unblemished, flawless. His eyes drifted from her breasts--soft with nipples like hard pink rosebuds, to her flat stomach which would now never bear a child in its womb, to the cleft in between her legs where he had just been. Elena wasn't sure if she should cover herself from Damon's objectification or...

Damon noticed as she lifted her head slightly, proudly. He nodded.

"Good," He said finally. "No point in acting like I haven't already fucked you."

He moved in front of her. His arm circled around her waist and he roughly hoisted her against him. He breathed in her scent--lavender, lemon oil...death. It was intoxicating. Damon dipped his head to her collarbone and ran his tongue along her skin, her blood.

Elena shut her eyes.

"You'll never taste like that again," he remarked aloud.

"Taste like what?" Elena asked.

He did not answer.

Damon moved away from her then and to a large copper tub behind her. He turned the knob and said nothing as the hot water poured into the tub, filling the room with steam. And in a strange moment of tenderness, he led her to the tub and shut off the water.

Elena sunk in and reclined, shutting her eyes. The heat of the water against her cold lifeless skin sent unexplainable tingles up her spine. Damon sat on a bench beside her. He dipped a sea sponge in the water and rubbed her skin. The water was tinged pink now. He ran the sponge along her neck and slowly moved to her collar bone. He made small circles over her skin. He moved towards her breasts and down her stomach. Elena's eyes opened, half lidded, as his hands drifted over her lower abdomen and stayed. She became restless when he concentrated his efforts there and did not move. Small circles over her flesh, and making no attempt to move lower still. Elena sighed.

Damon stopped and put the sponge down. He poured shampoo into his palm and slowly massaged it into Elena's scalp. It smelled of honeydew and vanilla. It was imported from a small and expensive perfumery shop Grasse, France, and Damon had a fondness for it. His hands moved gingerly, with the attention and care of a devout lover. He watched her intensely, as if expecting something to happen. The water had turned cool before Damon pulled Elena from the bath & wrapped her into a terrycloth robe. He set out a black silk chemise on the bed for her and move to a decanter on his dresser to pour himself a large glass of bourbon.

After Elena slid into her chemise, Damon took a large drink and turned to her.

"I imagine you must be starving now..." He mused.

Elena hadn't thought about what that would entail until that very moment. And it was ice in her veins. Kill. She would have to kill. She said nothing and kept her gaze away.

Damon let out a dry laugh. And grabbed the candleabra from his nightstand, now short stubs of wax and wick.

"Come here," he demanded, walking out of the room.

The Salvatore Boarding House was quiet. The wind was howling outside but inside it was like a mausoleum. Damon moved with the stealth and grace of a cat. He walked down the stone steps that led into the basement. He could feel Elena's reluctance despite her putting up a brave facade. She soon found herself in an area of the basement that was what nightmares were made of--dark, solitary, frightening. It was a dungeon. Damon opened a large oak door. It was large and with a small, centered window that was secured with bars...like a prison. With a gesture of his head, Elena walked into the small room and froze.

It was a man, chained to the wall. He couldnt have been much older than Elena. His back was propped in the corner and his head was hanging like a tether ball. Elena's eyes widened. She rushed to him and knelt at his side. She knew quickly that he was only unconscious. She turned and looked up at Damon swiftly.

"What are doing?"

"Did you want me to ring a dinner bell?" He asked dryly.

"What? I'm not going to...I'm not going to kill him, Damon," Elena said.

"You will."

"No. I won't. I'm not a killer."

"Spare me the martyr act." He moved towards her, ignorning the unconscious man as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

"It's in your blood now. We are animals, Elena--"

"--No."

Damon nudged the man with his foot. The man moaned and roused himself. He looked up at Elena and Damon through slitted eyes and then bowed his head, cradling it in his hands in pain.

"Where am I?" He asked weakly.

Damon rolled his eyes and looked back at Elena.

"He's a murderer." He said finally.

"What?" Elena asked.

The man slowly raised his head up. Yes, they were speaking about him, he realized.

"I'm not--"

Damon raised his hand to silence the man.

"His name is Gabriel Shultz. 26 years old. Registered sex offender."

"What," asked the man.

Elena shook her head. "You're lying."

Damon shrugged his shoulders. "Go look it up for yourself. He's a pedophile, Elena. He kidnapped and attacked an 8 year old girl. But because Daddy has big pockets, he got off with not even a slap on the wrists."

Elena looked down at the man, confused.

"Who are you people," the man asked, his voice shaking.

"What you won't find on the database," Damon continued, "is that he also killed an 11 year old girl. He plucked her right from her bus stop. He had his fun and in the middle of it, he choked her to death and dumped her body in a shallow grave on his family's property."

The man had renewed strength and lunged suddenly but was snapped back by the arm shackles. He tried to kick at Damon who moved to the side lazily. The man's face was red now. He was screaming. And Damon was screaming above him.

"Do you want me to let him go," he screamed. "Tell me! I'll turn him loose on the streets so he can cruise near the school."

"I'll kill you," the man was rabid. "I'll kill you!"

"Do you think he cares--"

"Let me go! This man is crazy, lady! Let me go--"

"Do you think he will just STOP--"

Elena felt caged. Their voices were deafening. She was confused. She looked back and forth and back and forth. And then...

"They asked for it," the man screamed. "Everyone one of those little bitches asked for it!"

Then, before she even realized what was happening...

Damon saw Elena's eyes darken suddenly and then she pounced on the man. She straddled him and held him, almost as if she was embracing him. Yet she sunk her teeth viciously into his neck and the spray of blood spurt into her mouth. And the man's screams echoed along the stone walls. Damon closed his eyes, living vicariously through what he had seen. The man's screams were like a symphony to his ears. Elena drank greedily. This man's blood was wonderful, nourishing. It was thick and warm and it slid down her throat like cream. His scream turned into a lovely gurgle and finally he took his last delicious struggled breath before meeting death. Elena held onto the man, her teeth still plunged into his neck. She wrapped her arms tighter around the man's dead body and moved to rest her head against his sagging shoulder. She was crying now. His blood still danced on her tongue and was dripping down her chin and onto her chest, her new chemise. Damon came behind her now and unwrapped her from the man. He set her on her feet.

"Was that so bad?" Damon smiled.

"He never hurt anyone," Elena said finally, not looking at him.

Damon said nothing to discredit her claim.

"You compelled him to say those last words...I could taste it," She said softly.

"You're going to have to learn to toughen yourself," Damon said cooly. "Kill or be killed. He was one man in a mass of billions. Maybe I compelled him. Maybe I didn't. If I did, it was for you. Now go upstairs and wash up. You made a mess all over yourself."

Elena moved mechanically, robotically.

Damon watched her move up the stairs. His gaze softened.

One day she would thank him. Of that he was certain.