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A little short, but it needed to end where it did.

As I led the small group through the woods of our property, I was glad Damon had sat this one out.

My natural instinct was to feel territorial.

To want these strangers off my land.

But I was rational enough to know that I shouldn't act on those feelings.

Damon wasn't.

As I walked, Stefan, who was a good couple yards to my right, spoke.

"Do you hear these guys?"

I heard him perfectly, despite the distance, but I'd been tuning our guests out.

I shook my head, "No, what's wrong?"

"They think Damon's guilty," he hissed lowly.

I frowned, "Well, he did piss a few of them off."

Stefan shrugged, and I listened out further, catching the words of the group he was leading.

Sure enough, they were making grabs on the possibility of Sutton being dead, and if it was Damon, or another wild dog that did the killing.

Most were leaning towards Damon.

I rolled my eyes.

With any luck, there wouldn't even be a body out here.

One can hope, right?

We'd walked down another quarter mile, when one of the guys from Stefan's group called out, "Found something!"

Stefan and I both shot towards the voice, and by the time I arrived, Stefan was laughing, having gotten their first.

"What?" I demanded.

The guy who had claimed the find was blushing, "Nothing, my mistake."

There was some fabric in his hands, which Stefan snatched, and tossed towards me.

"Wild dog?" He asked, as I recognized my own shredded blouse, "Or just Damon?"

Now I was the one turning red.

"Shut up."

The others, who'd rushed over seemed confused.

"Wait, so not a wild dog attack?"

"Nope," Stefan smirked, "Just wild hormones."

I shot him a look, and ignored the ones I got from the other guys.

"Okay, let's move along," the sheriff shot out, ushering the group forward.

I tossed my ruined shirt to the ground, shaking my head.

Stefan ventured a little further over, picking up a shred of Damon's pants.

"Damn, when you and my brother go at it, you really go at it, huh?"

I ignored him, and moved to take point, again.

As the groups split, Stefan did the same.

It was half a mile west before I caught the scent.

I tensed, "Stefan?"

"I smell it," he whispered back.

"I don't know if it's Ray Sutton, but there's something dead over there."

"What do you want to do?" He asked, and I became aware of the groups behind us, nearing the rotting body.

Thinking fast, I turned my foot, and cried out.

Stefan ran over, followed by a handful of the other guys.

"Start a fight," I breathed at him, as I limped on my leg.

"Ow, ow," I played up the pain.

"You alright?" The sheriff asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, I think I just twisted it. I should probably head back."

"You gonna be okay to walk?" The guy who'd yelled at Damon asked.

"I think so," I told them, and limped for good measure, "I'll send Alaric or someone out."

The sheriff nodded, and I began limping back towards the house.

Behind me, I heard Stefan call out that same man.

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if your friend hadn't started that fight with my brother."

"My friend is missing," the man growled, "And I'd bet it's your brother's fault!"

Stefan made his move then, throwing a punch, and letting the other guy get a hit in.

Soon, the entire group was focused on pulling them apart, and I made my escape.

As I ran off, I heard the sheriff telling the lot to head back to the house.

The search was off, for now.

I followed my nose half a mile through the thickets, the scent of death growing stronger and stronger.

Then I found the body.

It was repulsive, to say the least.

A couple days old, by the looks of decay, and there were a fair number of insects around him.

His eyes were closed, and his neck was ripped open.

I sniffed a little harder, ignoring the sting of the stench.

Kol Mikaelson.

So this was the work of a Mutt.

I shivered as I stared at the body laying at my feet.

Only days ago, this man had been standing in front of me.

Just like Enzo had.

I sighed, and began shrugging out of my clothes.

I couldn't touch the body without leaving prints, which left only one other option.

I got down on all fours, and prepared for the pain.

An hour later, I walked through the back door of the manor.

It seemed that most of the search party had cleared out, and the sheriff was finishing up out front with Alaric.

Mason was the first one to spot me, "Hey. Stefan told us what you were doing. You okay?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that.

Once again, I had to do something I hated, just to protect Damon, to protect the Pack.

"I will be," I answered as honestly as I could.

Mason nodded, understandingly.

Then he straightened, "You should know, Tyler and I found a scent. Seems it trails back towards town. My bet would be the same hotel you and Damon scoped. Alaric's agreed to let us go check it out."

Well, at least that was something.

"Everyone?"

Mason shook his head, "No. Dad, Tyler, and Stefan are going to stay here, just in case the Mutts make a show. It's just you, me, him, and Damon."

I nodded, "Speaking of which, where is Damon?"

"Downstairs, I think, with Stefan."

"Okay, thanks."

I squeezed his arm as I passed, and made my way towards the basement stairs.

Sure enough, both Salvatore's were at the bottom.

Damon spotted me first, and set down whatever folder he was showing to Stefan to come stand at my side.

"Are you alright?" He asked, knowing better than anyone how much it demanded of me, too move that body.

I ignored the question, "I took care of the body. Tracked it a few miles south of the town's border, in the woods across the bridge. It's going to be at least a few days before he resurfaces. Should give us enough time to deal with the Mutts."

Damon nodded, "Good. Did Alaric tell you that we are going back to the hotel?"

I shook my head, "No, but Mason did. Not that I expect to find anything. But maybe their scents will be strong enough to follow from there."

"That's the plan," he assured me, turning back to Stefan, "You good here?"

The youngest Salvatore nodded, "Yeah, I'm just going to run these rosters back through. See if I can find a connection between the Mutts."

"Not a bad idea," I commended, "Call me if you find anything."

He nodded, and Damon and I made our way back up the stairs.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked again, once we came into the hall.

I shrugged, "It doesn't matter. I did what I had to, right?"

He gave me a hard look, "After the last time you "did what you had to" for the Pack, you took off for a year."

I sighed, "This is different. The Pack is being targeted, and splitting up right now isn't going to help anyone. I'm not an idiot."

"No," he agreed, "You aren't. But that doesn't mean you're okay either."

"I'm fine," I assured him, "Or at least, I will be. Let's just go find Ric and get this whole thing started, alright?"

Damon nodded, "Of course."

With a kiss to my head, he allowed me past him, and followed me into the foyer, where Alaric now stood with the Lockwoods.

"We clear?" Damon asked, as they looked over at us.

Alaric looked at me, "The body?"

"Disposed of, for now."

He nodded, "Alright. The sheriff shouldn't be back out until tomorrow. We can go ahead and head out to town. Hopefully the scent will be clear enough to track."

I nodded, "Let's go."

We took Alaric's SUV, Mason riding shotgun as I slid in next to Damon.

It didn't take long for us to reach town.

We parked in the square, among the rest of the locals, not wanting to draw attention, if the hotel was being watched.

But none of the scents leading up to the Mutt's room were fresh.

"We should still take a look around," Alaric decided, motioning for Damon to open the door.

He did so, but as he turned the knob and pulled, my eyes caught something.

A string at the top of the door jam.

"Damon!" I yelled, yanking him back, just as an explosion rang out, a hole appearing in the half open door.

"What the hell?" Mason called.

"It was a trap," I pointed up, as Alaric pushed the door the rest of the way open.

The string I'd seen ran along the ceiling, to a chair, facing the entrance.

A double barrel shotgun was rigged to the chair and the string, set to go off, if the door was opened.

I cursed at how close that had been.

Damon paled, his hand reaching for mine, apparently thinking the same thing.

"The whole town probably heard that gunshot," Ric spat, "We should go."

I nodded, but Mason paused.

"Look," he told us, pointing to the far wall.

Damon and I both turned.

There, on the old, fading wallpaper, a message had been written in bold letters.

"I'm coming for my scrapbook, bitch," I read aloud.

Damon's hand tightened in mine, and I could feel the waves of anger roll from each of the guys.

It gave me strength, knowing they were there.

We were the Pack, and we would end this.

My lips curled, as a growl escaped my lips.

"Let them try."

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