The next time John sees his daughter, she's in a back alley with a dead body. There's blood in her hair, on her clothes, and on her face. Her eyes widen when they meet his. Tears start to mingle with the blood on her face, and by the time they fall onto the ground, the liquid has become red.
He finds himself walking slowly over to her, ignoring both the trembling in his hands and the instinct to run away.
Elena looks down at the body on the ground. "I…I killed someone," she whispers. "I killed someone."
He's right in front of her when he nods. "Yes," he answers without checking for a pulse. They both know the man on the ground is dead; he won't lie to her now—not about this.
For the first time in Elena's life, she's looking at him like he has all the answers and it makes John want to cry himself. "What am I supposed to do?" she cries. "I don't want to—I never wanted to be like this. I didn't want to kill people, Dad."
It's the 'Dad' that does it.
John grabs his daughter and pulls her close. "You're going to go home. Take a shower, put on some comfortable clothes, and go to sleep. I'll take care of this. In the morning, we'll figure out what comes next."
Elena nods, and before he can blink, she's gone.
John, having never dealt with dead bodies before, makes the strangest call to his life. He calls his daughter's mother's husband, and Alaric comes without question when John says, "Elena had an accident, I need help."
The next morning, John has a glass of blood—from a small supply of blood bags given to him by Alaric the night before—in his hand when he goes to wake his daughter.
"Here," he says as he hands her the glass.
She takes it without a word, but refuses to drink. "You hate me—what I am," she whispers after a moment's silence.
John shakes his head in protest, surprised that he actually means it. "You're my daughter, Elena. I love you. I'll always love you."
"Even if I'm a…a vampire."
John nods emphatically. "Even then."