Elena pushed the door open to the kitchen and saw blood - and a lot of it. It was smeared all over the refrigerator door, on the island in the center of the room, and the pool on the floor was slowly inching its way closer to her toes. She felt her stomach roll - Jenna or Jeremy? the voice in her head whispered and she swallowed thickly. No. It was too much. Too much heartache, too much death. She couldn't bring herself to move - to look behind the island and see for herself. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she scrolled down to Stefan's name and hit send.

"Tattling on yourself already Elena?" Damon's voice came through the speaker of the phone with his usual snarky attitude.

"Help - me." Elena choked, not even recognizing that she was speaking to the wrong Salvatore brother. Damon knew instantly that something was very wrong and within seconds he was standing beside Elena in the kitchen.

"Elena what -" and then he smelled it, the blood all over the kitchen. He felt his fangs elongate and the hunger set in. For a minute he was completely overwhelmed by it, forgot why he was even there, and then he saw Elena's face. She looked - lifeless. She hadn't even turned to look at him since he had arrived, just stood there staring at the blood on the floor like a statue.

"Elena?" he said softly as he stepped toward her to lightly grip her chin with his fingertips. "Elena, are you okay?" Stupid question. She was obviously not okay. "Are you hurt?" He lifted her face so that she had no choice but to look him in the eyes and what he saw in them affected him more than he even thought possible. The spark in her eyes was gone, burnt out. She hadn't blinked yet and Damon was starting to get nervous. "Elena say something please."

" J - " she started the sound but nothing else came out and Damon wracked his brain. Jeremy. Jenna. Oh God. He turned to look back at the scarlet liquid smeared across the kitchen and tried to pick up on the sound of a heartbeat. There was only one in the kitchen, Elena's. He let go of her chin, took a step toward the refrigerator and looked around the corner to find Uncle John's blood stained corpse. He felt relief wash over him like a tidal wave, but when he turned back to look at Elena's lifeless face he still couldn't bring himself to tell her. John had been Elena's birth father - and despite the fact that he had been a total ass to her his entire life - she had only just found out that he was her father, hadn't even really gotten to talk to him. For once, he actually cared enough about another person's feelings that blurting the truth out in his usual fashion seemed repugnant.

"Elena, it's not Jeremy or Jenna," he said hoping to give her some sort of relief but she just stared blankly at the island in the room not moving. "Elena," he called again as he moved toward her hoping she would say something, anything, but she didn't. He didn't know what to do, and then he remembered what she had done for him when he had felt the same. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he enveloped her in his arms and held her there. Within seconds he felt tears on his shirt that slowly worked their way into full fledged sobs. He let her cry as he rubbed circles into her back trying to calm her down without words. She cried for so long he couldn't judge how much time had passed, but when she finally stopped she pulled away from him and looked up into his face.

"Who's blood is it then?" she asked him, as she visibly tried to pull herself together and inject some of that resilience she always had back into her voice.

"John." Damon told her without hesitation and waited for a reaction. Her face didn't change, but she took a few steps to her right so that she could see around the island to look at the body. She cringed and walked around the island in the opposite direction to avoid the blood and knelt down at her biological father's side. He thought she'd cry again, or throw a fit and scream, but she didn't do any of those things. She grabbed hold of the kitchen knife sticking out of John's stomach, pulled it out and set it on the counter.

"I should go wake up Jenna and Jeremy," she said flatly as she began to walk out of the room.

"Do you - need me - to help?" Damon faltered over the words. He was pretty sure he hadn't said them in over a century.

"No," she turned around to look back at him and was surprised to find sincerity in those piercing blue eyes. The emotion transformed his whole face and almost made her want to change her mind about his request. For a second she wanted him to tell her everything would be okay. That he would protect her and make sure nothing ever happened to her or her family ever again. She wanted him to hold her again - but this was Damon, not Stefan, and it would do her good to remember that.

"Not really much you can do. What's done is done." She pushed open the door to the kitchen and walked out into the hallway and Damon followed. When she got to the steps she came to a halt.

"Huh," she mused aloud. "I wonder who brought my stuff back. I thought someone stole it."

Damon walked over to where she stood and looked at the dress bag and purse.

"Elena you brought that home with you. I saw you, we talked, I helped you with that stuff." We kissed. He knew her homecoming had been traumatic, but nothing could have made him forget that kiss.

"What are you talking about? This is the first time I've seen you since I left the party."

"But - " Damon grappled with the mush of words in his brain but nothing came out. It didn't make sense. Had she been compelled? No, she was still wearing the vervain necklace. Lying? No, that wasn't it either, she looked genuinely confused. Elena was a terrible liar. But then who could it have been? Another Ele - No. The voice in Damon's mind gasped.

"That conniving little bitch." Damon growled as he dialed Stefan's number and hit the send button.

"We have a problem. Get to Elena's - now. I'm going...hunting." and with that he was gone leaving Elena staring at the empty space he had been standing in mere seconds ago.