A.N.: I hope you're all ready for this. The very last chapter of Dangerous Beauty… Thank you all for sticking with Giulia for so long.

Dangerous Beauty

45

The Breaking of the Fellowship

"Giulia…?"

"Yes?"

"I – thought… I thought I was imagining things," Stefan said haltingly. And then he gave her a blazing grin, grabbing her. He pulled her into a hug that thoroughly set Giulia off-kilter. They were huggers, now? "We thought you were dead. When you disappeared…"

"Not dead," Giulia shrugged awkwardly, still stuck in the death-grip hug Stefan was squeezing her into.

"Good," he half-laughed. "Good – that's… That's amazing. And – you'll be able to convince him…"

"Convince who of what?"

"Damon. Of fighting to survive," Stefan said quietly, his grin fading. His hazel eyes were troubled, he bit his lip, and he gave her an earnestly sorrowful look, as he said, "Hayley bit Damon last night."

Giulia froze, hatred crystallising in her veins like ice. "She did?"

"Mason and Tyler had their rings, but when the moon rose, Hayley started to turn. Damon jumped in front of her before she could attack Carol… He helped Mason get her into the cellar, but…"

"But she nipped him," Giulia said quietly.

"He poured a glass of his favourite bourbon and stood in front of the window with his ring off this morning," Stefan said, his features tightening. "He doesn't…know you're alive. He thinks you had your heart ripped out last-night by Klaus, and he was too distracted by worrying about Elena to stop you. And…with your dad…he doesn't think he's worthy of surviving this. Would you talk to him?"

"He knows I'm dead and if the hallucinations have started, he might just think I'm a figment of his imagination," Giulia said quietly. She knew from experience that the venom dug out the most debilitating memories a vampire had ever suffered.

"Please…just talk to him. Convince him not to give up. I've asked Sheila and Bonnie to look into something, anything, a spell, a cure–"

"You don't need witches," Giulia said quietly, glancing at Stefan, her conversation with Willem replaying through her head, the flirting, the facts, the things left unsaid to keep the peace while they started to build a friendship.

"You know about werewolf-bites?"

"Tyler bit Elijah his first transformation," Giulia said quietly. "He's an Original and so can't die from it… But he still suffered through it. Damon will be in debilitating pain, reliving his worst memories. The ones that fashioned the person he is… But there is a cure."

"Ric searched through Isobel's research, he couldn't find any hint of a cure existing."

"It would be hunted to extinction if anyone knew," Giulia said certainly. "Vampires everywhere would want it."

"Yeah," Stefan sighed heavily. "I know I'd do anything for a cure for Damon." Giulia glanced sharply at him.

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

"Of course."

"You're willing to do whatever you have to, no matter the cost?" she prompted.

"Yes." Giulia eyed him carefully. "Giulia…what is it? What is the cure?"

"You need Klaus' blood."

"Klaus?"

Giulia nodded. Stefan looked stunned, then horrified. "He could be halfway across the continent by now."

"He's still here," Giulia said with certainty. "He's probably still struggling to regain control."

"Regain control – the full-moon's come and gone."

"He's a hybrid; the werewolf in him isn't bound to the moon's cycle," Giulia told him gently. "You saw Hayley transformed last-night?"

"Yeah," Stefan said, stifling a shiver. "I saw her… I can't imagine Tyler having to go through that."

"A werewolf not bound to the full-moon, utterly rabid, suffering that pain, unable to fully transform because he is also a vampire and keeps healing… Mindless, out-of-control, combined with a vampire's bloodlust," Giulia said softly. "That is Klaus, now. He didn't know what he was getting himself into, releasing himself from his mother's spell."

Stefan gazed at her, frowning thoughtfully. "You know a lot about him… Elijah really trusted you with his family's secrets." Giulia shrugged delicately; he hadn't sounded accusatory or disbelieving…it was like he had finally realised…she and Elijah had something very real, very true.

"We trusted each other," Giulia said quietly. She exhaled softly. "Klaus won't leave. When he manages to resurface, he'll remember everything… He'll know Elijah tried to kill him…"

"How can you be sure he did?" Stefan asked, frowning. "You were…weren't you dead?"

"I could smell it," Giulia said softly. "I could smell Elijah's grief, Klaus' terror and anger, his blood. Elijah tried to kill him… And Klaus can only kill him with what he's left in Ric's studio for safekeeping."

"A silver-dagger," Stefan said softly.

"Klaus only had three. One for him, one for Kol, one for Elijah. But they've never worked on Klaus… And I've stolen and hidden the two he gave to Damon and Hayley," Giulia said.

"I thought the Martin witches tried to use the dagger against Elijah."

"Who do you think gave it to them, tried to convince them to kill Elijah so Klaus could take Elijah's allies from him?" Giulia sighed.

"Hayley," Stefan sighed, shaking his head. "And she bit Damon."

"I should just kill her now," Giulia said thoughtfully. "She's only good for one thing." Stefan's lips twitched.

"And if Klaus has already 'resurfaced'?"

"Hang on," Giulia said softly, pulling her phone out. She opened an App, tapping away, and showed Stefan the screen. She had all her friends' phones tracked on hers. Made things simpler, made sure she didn't deplete Sheila's strength asking for a draining Locator Spell when her power was needed for more dangerous moments. "They've managed to get all the way into the National Park. That's away from any hiking trails or campsites…Elijah's led him away from anyone Klaus can turn into mincemeat. He's not himself yet."

"I have to wait," Stefan said quietly. Giulia shrugged.

"What you said…about being willing to do anything to save Damon? I hope you really mean it…because Klaus will force you to do things that go against everything you are," Giulia said quietly.

"Damon's not dying today," Stefan said, with certainty. He swallowed, sighed, and glanced at Giulia, his expression softening. "I'm glad you're okay. I know…we've never been close…and…the way I've treated you… I should never have made you believe I'd chosen Elena over you, even when I… I did. I know it. I forfeited my chance to…bond with you, to be your friend, when I lost all focus except Elena. I… I've ignored you – you never seemed like you needed us. Me. I guess I like to be needed; I don't know how to look after someone who doesn't need to be looked after."

That was as much of an apology as Giulia was ever going to get from Stefan – for choosing Elena over her rather than making the effort with both.

"I forfeited the privilege of your friendship, Giulia… And realising what you did, what you've done – for all of us… I know you've done a lot of things nobody knows about, and why should you tell us, when we don't appreciate anything you've done… I let you down, I pushed you out of your own home, I made you feel…unloved and irrelevant. I never appreciated you. I know I'm going to regret that, more than I have regretted a lot of things," Stefan said quietly. "I let my love for Elena blind me to anything else, especially your suffering… I let my love for Elena blind me to a lot of things." Giulia turned to Stefan, raising her eyebrows. What? she thought, surprised. "I'm sorry."

Giulia nodded. She didn't know what to say.

"You should know something, before you go and find Klaus," Giulia said, and she indicated him to follow her. She strode upstairs, to Stefan's cluttered bedroom, to his armoire of journals, and plucked out the diary from 1922 that she had replaced after showing it to Elijah to explain how Elena had ended up wearing his mother's pendant.

"I hate this journal," Stefan frowned. "I…was at my worst."

"I know," Giulia said. "You were the Ripper of Monterrey. But you changed, while you were in Chicago."

"All I know about my time in Chicago was it still remains a confused blur in my memory. A lot of parties, a lot of blood, a lot of things I can't explain." Giulia turned the page to the first time Stefan ever saw Rebekah. A small square photograph kept the page marked. She showed it to Stefan.

"When you were writing in this journal, you knew who these people were," Giulia said. "Your lover Rebekah, and her bullying older-brother, Nik."

"I've re-read that journal a hundred times, it never gets any less confusing," Stefan said.

"You knew them, Stefan," Giulia said softly. "Elijah's brother and sister – Rebekah and Nik – Niklaus."

"You're saying I knew two Originals?" Stefan said doubtfully.

"No; you said it," Giulia said, pointing to the journal. "Imagine you had been compelled to forget Rebekah and Nik…the holes in your memory… Would things make more sense?"

Stefan sank down onto his bed, cradling the journal in his hands, staring at the photograph.

"I knew them," he whispered wonderingly to himself. "I knew them? Why would they compel me to forget them?"

"To protect you," Giulia said quietly. "You were Klaus' friend, while he was Nik. They left Chicago, he probably put a silver-dagger in Rebekah's heart the night Gloria's was attacked by the police using wooden bullets… You couldn't hurt them or be hurt yourself if you didn't remember you had ever known them."

"Why would they run?" Stefan frowned, realising striking as he glanced up. "They were running from someone – Elijah?"

"Maybe," Giulia shrugged enigmatically. "The way Klaus treats people I'm sure he has no shortage of enemies. But you were his friend. And that's important… He needs someone he trusts not to betray him to be his wingman. And you used to be, back in the Twenties."

"What are you…?"

"What's happened, the reality of lifting the spell, he wasn't prepared for that. He made it up in his mind over a thousand years how things would be when he finally lifted his mother's 'curse'. In his mind, he's the victim of his family's cruelty; he would never for one second have considered his mother was protecting him with the spell," Giulia said. "Stefan, he has no idea of the repercussions of what he's done, he won't know who or what he is, what his strengths and weaknesses are, how to control himself… He will kill Elijah, he won't forgive that Elijah tried to kill him. But he needs someone who'll look after him."

Stefan closed the journal, tucking the photograph inside, and glanced up at Giulia. Understanding emanated from his eyes, and he nodded.

"I've got Klaus… Keep an eye on Damon while I'm gone," he said, and Giulia nodded. With that, Stefan was gone. Giulia paused, listening to him go; he left the keys to his Porsche on the credenza in the foyer and ran out of the house. Giulia glanced around his cluttered room. Since 1903 this had been the bedroom, the home he had returned to time and again, leaving bits and pieces of history behind. She had sent Stefan off to sacrifice himself to Klaus for his brother's life. Would he ever return to this house, this room he had left so much of his life in? Could she without guilt redecorate this house, his room, leave him with no home to return to?

She pulled an ancient leather duffel from Stefan's closet and packed supplies for him.

Klaus was clever enough to realise how epically fucked he was. That things had gone catastrophically not the way he had wanted. That without Elijah he needed someone whose loyalty he could be certain of to take care of him, be his…bodyguard.

If the enemies he had made learned how vulnerable Klaus would soon discover himself to be, they would tear the world apart to find him, to fight each other in their selfish efforts for revenge.

Giulia had given her word to Elijah that no-one would kill Klaus, if she could prevent it. He belonged to his siblings to torment for the rest of eternity; no-one had more right to that than his family. Any harm he had inflicted on strangers was nothing to how he had treated his brothers and sisters, the one niece who had survived the war he had started. But Klaus would soon learn what his weaknesses were, would be crippled by his rage and regret, paranoia surging to the fore. And he would need someone to clean up his messes and make sure word did not spread that he had lifted the spell that had made him strong.

There was the obvious danger, that in his rage and impotence, his paranoia would only grow, his cruelty would manifest exponentially in compensation.

He lacked compassion.

Giulia intended to find a way to shove it down his throat to prevent him becoming worse for lifting the curse. This was a chance – for his siblings, to take back everything he had taken from them, to exact their vengeance on him. And for Klaus to…become a better person.

If she could be the one who set things in motion to bring about both those things…

She blinked, smiling to herself, and strode up to the attic. In lieu of a hiding-place more protected than the attic, she had tucked Dr Martin's collection of grimoires in the attic. She had asked whether Sheila wanted them, for her own collection or as donation to the university; Sheila had been nervous about being the caretaker of so much knowledge. Words were power, and Dr Martin had thousands of grimoires, all filled with spells. Some had set Sheila's teeth on edge, some were ordinary, everyday, practical magic. But she didn't want the responsibility of keeping them, or painting a target on her back should other, more ambitious witches, discover she had so much of their heritage stolen away. So Giulia had kept them. And she paused at the stairwell up to the attic. She had had Sheila spell it, protected.

She lifted her foot to the first step, and climbed up the stairs. She entered the attic without resistance. She had taken a few hours while Elijah spent time with Kol and Ashlyn to go through some of the grimoires and organise them, though the job was far from done. After Sheila had given her a lesson on deciphering the spells, Giulia had sat and gone through some of the grimoires, and she remembered a particular spell that could be tweaked uniquely. She picked out the grimoire she wanted and made her way downstairs, carrying the duffel for Stefan into Damon's bedroom, and went down to the cellar she hated.

Giulia could smell the decay. Smell the poison in Damon's veins, slowly rotting him from the inside, slowly leaching into his mind, dredging up every awful memory, every bad decision, the moments in his life that had fashioned the person he now was. Brave, but afraid of letting people see the real man beneath the smirk and swagger. Kind, and tough, he had purpose, protecting the people he cared about. He wanted to be seen for who he was, but was afraid of the expectation of goodness from him – and people's disappointment when he couldn't live up to it. She wondered who he was having nightmares about, reliving his old memories. She would imagine Katherine. There was no-one more closely linked to his transformation than her.

"Damon…?"

She peered through the bars of the door, sighing. He lay on his front, his dark clothing dusty, a small pool of blood glistening in the horrible lighting. Even in the gloom she could see the sweat beaded on his brow, the way his eyes darted beneath his lids, the veins beneath his eyes, his laboured breathing and the tiny hint of fangs as he groaned and curled up in pain, grimacing. Beyond him, she could see the damage Hayley, as a transformed werewolf, had wrought on the cellar, deep claw-marks gored into the old walls. She wondered how the door looked like on the inside; Sheila had spelled the cellar to contain the supernatural, the door had nothing to do with their captivity. But unlock it, open it, and the spell was lifted temporarily.

He panted, groaning, and sighed in exhaustion as he rolled over, sprawling onto his back. His pale eyes glittered in the awful lighting, blood smeared down his chin. His own. He focused on her, and groaned in pain again.

"Now you're haunting me too?" he grimaced. Giulia gazed into the cellar at him. She opened her mouth, but he kept talking. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised; I see you everywhere… I hate this house. Everywhere. You know that, you're everywhere. Thought with Zachary gone you'd leave too…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Damon."

"Gianna…" Damon sighed, and Giulia blinked.

"It's Giulia, Damon," she said quietly.

"Great. You, now?" Damon groaned, hunching over painfully. "Stefan's left me to…face my demons while he goes off playing Superman."

"He's going to get your cure, Damon," Giulia assured him quietly.

"And how do you know that?"

"I told him where to find it."

"You're omniscient now?"

"Just well-connected," Giulia chuckled softly. She sighed. "Nobody told you I survived the sacrifice?"

"Know Elena did," Damon shrugged. "Stef told me."

"He does have a one-track mind," Giulia said, pulling a face. She sighed, "He apologised for ignoring me. Said his love for Elena blinded him to things."

"Huh." Damon peered at her. "Giulia?"

"You look like you could use a drink," she said, unlocking the cellar door. Damon groaned, trying to clamber to his feet; he moaned and wretched, dry-heaving, and shuddered, almost knocked off his feet by the violence of a coughing fit. He spit out a mouthful of his own blood, groaning.

"A drink? Try a witch-doctor," Damon groaned, gasping. Giulia surreptitiously injected him with some very concentrated vervain to knock him out – she knew how much physical pain and emotional anguish Elijah had endured from his bite, she didn't want him to be conscious for all of it. Damon sighed, and collapsed.

She surprised herself with her new strength – she hoisted Damon over her shoulder in a fireman's lift without any effort whatsoever, traipsed upstairs to Damon's spacious bedroom, an expensive, oddly romantic chamber full of panelling, a large mirror, an old trunk and little else. In contrast to Stefan he was a minimalist; he kept what was truly precious to him, and hid things away, finding them too painful to look at every day. He was halfway through a copy of Doctor Zhivago, resting beside an empty tumbler that still smelled of bourbon on the bedside-table. Some of Rose's clothes were strewn over the armchair, and Giulia could scent her on the sheets. She knew Rose hadn't moved permanently into the bedroom Giulia had suggested she claim. Damon was lonely, and Rosemary was heartbroken; of course they would take comfort in each other, no commitments, no strings attached, just friendship.

She folded Rose's clothes and put them on top of the dresser, pulling the armchair up closer to the bed, and settled in for a long night. Though the vervain had knocked Damon out, his body still reacted to the poison spreading from the nip on his forearm that kept tickling Giulia's nose with the scent of poison and decay, and he was a writhing, sweating mess, eyes rolling behind his lids; the only sounds he made were to murmur to himself, his end of a conversation between…Giulia's mother. Gianna.

"You know that it might not work… It could speed things up, or just not make any difference… You had the surgery, didn't you? …They want you to… So it's either you or the baby? My blood could affect the baby…don't know it's ever even been done before… Vampire-blood isn't a miracle-cure, it can't stop Nature getting what it wants; too many witches have drilled that into my brain… You're sure this is what you want, Gianna? …Zach? …Guess I'd better tap a vein, then. Time for your medicine…"

And then it got scarier. He stopped writhing, stopped moving around at all, he seemed to come out of the vervain-coma and could gaze at her with eyes bleary with pain, disoriented, frightened, but he was obviously too exhausted, too sick to move. His breaths were laboured, he was still a sweaty mess, but he was a little more aware, conscious that it was her, Giulia, sitting with him.

She sighed softly. "Why did you give my mother your blood, Damon?"

"Giulia?"

"You've been talking to yourself… To my mother," Giulia said. Damon writhed, groaning. Giulia waited for the fit to pass, and he sagged back against the mattress, exhausted, pale as – well, death – stinking of sweat and poison and decay, and Giulia sat on the edge of her seat. Waiting. Either for Stefan to return, or Damon to…die. He sighed, squirming under his sheets, and his eyes glinted, barely slits, resting on her.

"What did I say?"

"Why were you giving my mother your blood while she was pregnant with me?" She gazed at him, willing him to lie to her, afraid of what he might say, but…strangely desperate to know. The truth. Why the Gilbert device had affected her. Perhaps why she had cheated death as a vampire, only to resurrect…enhanced.

"I was just passing through town. Didn't plan to stick around – but Gianna… I've met a lot of people, but Gianna…she was rare. Like you. Enigmatic, powerful, she was…kind. Magnetic. And wholly unselfish…like you. All she wanted was you. The day I met her, I heard your heartbeat. Strong and steady, and I loved you from that moment on… But I smelled something, too. Gianna didn't know, couldn't – she had cancer. Just little lumps to begin with, but…the specialist said they were…aggressive. Said she had months, if that, he'd never seen a case so severe, and he was the best in the state… They gave Gianna a choice: She could terminate her pregnancy, have her treatment, and hope. Or she could stop any treatment beyond the surgery, and see how long she deteriorated trying to bring you into the world…"

"She stopped her treatment," Giulia said quietly.

"It wasn't even a choice," Damon smiled sadly, his gaze faraway, remembering the woman Giulia had never known. He sighed heavily. "Gianna was four months along when she had the surgery to remove the cancer. She never had chemo or radiotherapy. Instead, every day, I gave her some of my blood. It temporarily kept the cancer at bay, and allowed her to…well, bring you into the world… You gestated with vampire-blood in your system."

The reason why she had been affected by the Gilbert device. Like Tyler, she had been born with some latent supernatural potential. She had been in utero with vampire-blood coursing through her veins, gestating, growing, with it fashioning what she was…but she had been born.

That was important.

Giulia had been born. With vampire and human blood rushing through her veins, infused in every cell. A latent potential – possibly triggered by being turned, and her death. A mutation of the very nature of vampire, which were made and never born. She had evolved to survive what would kill any vampire but the very first created, the Originals.

"Nature has a way of getting what it wants," Giulia said thoughtfully. Balance, she thought, and she was reminded of Elijah, his mother, her spell. To create a species superior to the werewolves – stronger, more durable, with greater agility, healing, senses. But flawed to a devastating degree, by accident. A bloodlust that outshone a werewolf's. The inability to procreate. Punished by the sun. Prevented from entering a mortal's home without invitation.

Giulia felt no lust but the ordinary, heightened, supernatural sexual kind. She still needed her reading-glasses. Her senses were heightened, and she had more delicate fangs than Caroline's. She could – well, heal. From anything, apparently.

She wondered whether she would have returned as a vampire had Sheila Bennett not healed her from the werewolves' torture and she had died. Whether the latent potential in her that had hurt her the night the Gilbert device was set off would have manifested itself, to save her life. She believed it wasn't turning into a vampire that triggered some strange mutation in her – it was the fire.

Damon let out a groan that seemed to come from his marrow, he was in so much pain. But he pointed to the door. "Closet."

"You know you can't take your watches with you," Giulia sighed. She planned to raid his collection. He gave her a humourless chuckle, squirming in bed, trying to get up. Giulia pushed him back, and sighed. "What do you want me to get?"

"Behind the dresser. Hidden door," Damon panted, collapsing against the pillows with a sigh, exhausted, clutching his chest with a grimace. She opened the door to Damon's plush walk-in closet, meticulously arranged dark shirts he pressed himself with the iron Stefan couldn't find – and the tailored pants, jeans, tuxedo and Italian-cut suits, the luxurious designer luggage and his exquisite collection of watches. He had at least one-hundred, ranging from an antique pocket-watch that had to be wound by hand every night, to exclusive limited-edition, hundreds-of-thousands of dollar designer watches. She sighed, and found it very easy to shift the dresser away from the wall, her new sight discerning a seam in the panelling, the musty scent. She was still farsighted, so she had to squint, but she found the little notch that released the panel, and inside found a steamer-trunk similar to the one Damon kept his photos and precious things in. She lifted it out, carrying it easily to the bed, and set it down.

"One-nine-oh-six," Damon coughed, and Giulia unlocked the trunk, lifting the lid. She blinked, surprised. A wash of white, pale-green, yellow, dainty florals. Baby-clothes. Meticulously vacu-packed. Blankets, a handful of plush toys, baby-books, a mobile, scrapbooks, fat photograph-albums. Her infancy in a box. Hidden away in a secret compartment. There were handmade blankets and a little pillow appliqued and embroidered with her name and date of birth – the full name her mother had given her that no-one ever called her. Giuliette Aria Lucrezia.

"Why do you have this?" Giulia whispered.

"Album," Damon groaned, pointing at one of the fat photograph-albums. Giulia frowned at him, disconcerted, lugged one of the albums out, and sank onto the bed, her legs knocked out from under her, completely winded, as she stared at the first dozen photographs neatly – lovingly – arranged behind the protective film.

Photographs of a dark-haired, smiling baby with uncanny silver-grey eyes. And a beautiful blue-eyed woman who looked so like her it hurt.

Her mother. With her. In her nursery; in the gardens, toddling, gripping her mother's fingers, grinning from a little blanket; a beautiful posed shot of her breastfeeding; in her mother's arms, cuddling, sucking her thumb. New-born, to a toddler. A tiny, fragile, delicate thing, to a little creature instantly recognisable as her. And her mother…

Alive.

In the photographs.

In her life.

The mother she had killed in childbirth was…alive.

She stared at the photographs so long, everything else faded away. Her mother had…survived? Childbirth, at least. Survived to see her reach her first birthday; to laugh as she had baby playdates with beaming, curly-haired little Caroline.

The crushing weight of her heightened emotions crippled her lungs, her shock and heartbreak so exquisitely painful.

"You let me believe I'd killed her."

"She passed away when you were eighteen months old," Damon said breathlessly, stifling a grunt of pain. His face was sheened with sweat, his eyes disoriented, out of focus, his fangs and the veins under his eyes flickering in and out. "You were born here in this bed… When she finally weaned you, she started the process for her treatment. Stopped taking my blood… She died three weeks later." Nature had a way of getting what it wanted; Gianna had cheated death too long.

"You lied," Giulia whispered, staring at the photographs. She hadn't killed her mother. Her mother…had loved her. Watched her grow. Sacrificed herself for the child growing inside her.

Her sore heart was obliterated.

She saw Stefan arrive through eyes swimming with hot tears. He stared at her, pausing at the door. She took a deep breath, blinked away her tears, and focused on the blood smeared around his mouth, the bourbon bottle in his hand, a pint of blood contained within. She stared at the blood on his face – as if he had…been consumed by feeding, squashing blood-bags to his face in an effort to consume every last drop. His eyes looked dazed, barely in focus – barely holding it together.

"Stef?" Damon murmured.

"I told you I'd find a way," Stefan panted, his voice low, guttural, scared. He strode into the room, relief flooding his features – that he hadn't been too late, that Giulia's tears weren't for Damon. He looked like he was barely holding it together, glancing at Giulia. "I've been given enough to get this to Damon… I have to go back."

"For how long?" Giulia asked.

"'Decade-long bender' were his words," Stefan said, looking like he was shaking. He licked his lips, handing her the bourbon bottle. "We'll see. You were right… He made me feed…said I'd be 'of use' to him. I'm…I'm leaving town."

"You have your phone?"

"I do."

"Make sure to keep in touch," Giulia said softly. There wasn't much she could say for Stefan, he had made sure she had only experienced the worst of him. But his love for his big-brother transcended everything else – even his love for Elena. He didn't mention her, but Giulia wondered if he wished she were here. There was no emotional cinematic goodbye; Stefan gave her the bottle, took the bag she had packed for him, smiled grimly at Damon, trying to sit up and stop him. But then he was gone.

Giulia knew he wouldn't risk a farewell to Elena in person, not when there was a good chance Klaus was stalking Stefan to enforce their deal if it looked like he was going to try and renege on the terms. As far as Klaus knew, Elena – and by extension Giulia – was dead; she was safest if she remained that way, and knocking on her door to say goodbye…

Stefan had paused, once, in the doorway, his features solemn as he said, "Elijah's dead…but you already knew that… Goodbye, Giulia."

He was gone. Damon groaned. Giulia tipped a trickle of blood down his throat, and he sighed and settled back, relieved, the pallor of his skin warming as she stoppered the bottle.

"What just – happened?" Damon groaned, glancing at Giulia.

"Stefan just proved how much he loves you."

Damon sighed, eyeing the bottle. "Better keep that safe."

"I intend to," Giulia assured him, eyeing the bottle. For a little while, they sat in silence, the bottle of blood resting next to Giulia's leg as she perched on the edge of the bed, a heavy photograph-album open in her lap.

He had lied. They had all lied. To…what, protect her from the truth? Which truth was more destructive, that her mother had died of cancer after willingly refusing treatment to bear her, or to tell a small child that she had killed her mother the day she had been born? Giulia had spent her entire childhood simultaneously longing for and resenting her mother for dying the day she was born. For being the shadow over every birthday, the ghost in the empty house. Her wholehearted acceptance that she had killed her mother had fashioned who she was, had shaped her – she could not understand childbirth, pregnancy freaked her out, she found it unnatural, she resented she had never had the bond… But she had. They had – they had all, her father, Damon, her mother – all lied to her. Damon watched her, going through the photographs, getting more and more upset, and angry, the more she absorbed, memorising.

"We couldn't know what the side-effects would be," he said quietly, and Giulia sniffled delicately. "You were born after Gianna ingested vampire-blood every day for five months, carrying you… We couldn't know. And it didn't look like there were any, until…"

"The Gilbert device went off," Giulia said, clearing her throat when it caught, her throat hot, tight, her eyes burning.

"Whatever you were – whatever you are… Your dad trusted me to keep an eye on you," Damon sighed, and Giulia stiffened. He knew he was toeing a line. "I don't know what it means, that you…came back, that you healed from…burning, as a vampire. I just know the risk was worth it for your mother. And whatever you turn out to be, if you ever figure it out…it doesn't matter. What mattered to your mother, your dad, was who you'd become. Not what."

Time would tell what she was, like Niklaus – and in spite of his best intentions – Giulia had a lifetime to figure out her strengths and flaws, beyond needing reading-glasses, not burning in the sun, something she admitted she had taken for granted. Thinking over what she had experienced so far, she was reminded of Elijah, telling her about the traits his mother had desired for her children, to survive their war with the werewolves. Hypersensitivity, a bite, strength. She would have to test her agility – whether or not she could compel – but she felt no desire to drink blood, hadn't, since waking up in the ring of fire last-night.

Damon sighed, slipping off the bed, starting to unbutton his shirt, his movements deft, no longer clumsy and laboured. "Well…that's my baby-bro for you. Martyring himself for his evil brother's salvation."

"You're hardly evil; just selfish," Giulia said honestly. "We're all flawed." She shrugged at his raised eyebrows.

"So a decade with the devil, huh?" Damon sighed, sauntering to run himself a bath. "As the Ripper, I'm guessing. Hope Lexi doesn't find out he's doing this for me."

"I don't know," Giulia said thoughtfully. "It may be the making of him."

"How d'you figure that?"

"Because Klaus is a mess. One of them has to keep it together to cover their tracks," Giulia said simply. "Anyway, Klaus would never respect Stefan's diet; he'll have to learn how to function on human-blood."

"You think so?" Giulia shrugged a shoulder.

"You're feeling better?"

"Fresh as a daisy," Damon smirked. "Once I bathe this horrible day away. And then, I shall tear Matt Donovan limb from limb."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, he tried to shoot me in the heart with a wooden bullet," Damon shrugged unconcernedly. "Got Jeremy Gilbert instead."

"What?!"

"Did no-one mention that?" Damon asked unconcernedly. "I wouldn't worry. The witches did a spell. John Gilbert sacrificed his life to bring Jeremy back." Giulia remembered not seeing John earlier when she had brought Elena back, safe and sound. "Pretty much the only decent thing the guy ever did. So now, I'm going to eviscerate Matthew Donovan. I mean, his life is basically a tragic waste anyway."

"Leave him alone," Giulia sighed, and Damon smirked, his murder-face already on. "You turned and murdered his sister, one assassination-attempt is his due." Their family had some amends to make to Matthew Donovan; Giulia would figure out how to do that. "Enjoy your bath."

She left Damon's room, carrying the trunk of her stolen infancy, Klaus' blood tucked under her chin. She sat down on the daybed and sighed, carefully opening the trunk.

"A decade's indentured servitude for a pint of Niklaus' blood," a voice said, the air barely disturbed as Kol appeared, the bourbon bottle in his hand. "Raw deal."

"Someone could turn it into quite the musical," Giulia said drily. "Although sacrificing one's life to save one's brother's was a little nobler than stealing – even if it was a loaf of bread for your sister's son."

"Now that you have this," Kol said, indicating the bottle, "what little surprises do you have in store for Niklaus?"

"It was arrogant of him to give up his blood – just to have Stefan," Giulia smirked, reaching for the bottle; Kol gave it to her. "I have some ideas. But he's your cousin; I'd love to hear your thoughts."

Kol's grin was slow and devilish.

"I've thought about this for a thousand years," he said breathlessly. "You'd need to be very careful. And subtle. He couldn't ever suspect it has anything to do with magic."

"I agree," Giulia said quietly. She glanced at him, biting her lip, and said softly, "I'd thought you and the others would've been gone by now."

"Not until Niklaus has left," Kol sighed heavily. "What's all this?"

"Family-history," Giulia said. "Yours isn't the only family with secrets."

"And Elijah shared some of those with you," Kol said carefully, giving her a look. "I heard Stefan earlier."

"I am sorry," Giulia said earnestly.

"I know," Kol smiled sadly. "The thing is, I know both of you expected it. Even planned it. Elijah told me some secrets, too."

"Did he?" Giulia smiled carelessly, and Kol nodded, still smiling.

"He wanted me to give you this," he said, producing something wrapped in muslin and a pea-green grosgrain ribbon. Giulia undid the bow, gently unfolding the muslin fabric, and revealed…a jewellery-box. Exquisite wood, the polish fresh, incredibly tactile, beautiful wood, glowing, with delicate indentations rather than knobs to open the dainty drawer underneath the central compartment, and two curved little compartments with domed doors that folded out and open. She opened the large central lid to discover a mirror, set into a lining that was exquisitely mosaicked in tiny wooden and mother-of-pearl tiles, and several dainty-to-large parcels meticulously wrapped, and under a small sliding tray, a stack of hand-addressed envelopes.

"What is all this?" Giulia asked thickly, her eyes burning.

"Elijah said you're to open this first, in private. But the others, choose one with each envelope you open. They're birthday gifts," Kol smiled sadly. "Elijah loves birthdays. And he'll miss yours." She had been born on Midsummer's Eve. He would miss her birthday. She eyed the longer, tube-shaped parcel Kol had handed her on its own, taking a good, cheeky guess what it was, her mood lifting with the idea of how much Elijah would have blushed to even pick it out, and the thought of her using it. She didn't have to open it to know what was inside that tube.

"Thank you for giving this to me," Giulia murmured, overcome with emotion – delight, sorrow, mixed with heartsickness and wistfulness.

"He asked me to keep an eye on you," Kol said, and Giulia smiled sadly. "Elijah and I know you're more than capable of looking after yourself. But if you ever need anything, you have my number. Come and see me in New Orleans some time."

"Thank you," Giulia said earnestly. "I will." Kol drifted off to think about suitable punishments for Niklaus, and Giulia turned to the trunk, Elijah's jewellery-box full of treats and letters, the wrapped tube in her lap, finding she couldn't bring herself to explore any of it. She sat, and she thought.

Elijah was dead.

Stefan was bound to Klaus for a decade.

She had ten years' worth of gifts and cards from Elijah, at a glance.

Tyler was a werewolf. Caroline, a vampire. Bonnie, an apprentice witch who had helped Sheila and an effectively orphaned Ashlyn resurrect Jeremy Gilbert from the dead. Elena had been abandoned.

Jenna and Ric were married.

Rose showed no sign of leaving Mystic Falls.

But Giulia was.

A fortnight later, Caroline laughed as she tucked her cheer-bag into the trunk of Giulia's Beetle next to a battered leather duffel, shining in the sunshine, the newly-resuscitated teardrop-trailer glinting, hitched behind it, little curtains in the windows, freshly christened for her maiden-voyage.

"–yes, Mom! We're sure we have everything!" Caroline beamed, waving the stuffed Filofax meticulously annotated with lists, maps, printed directions, reservation confirmations, tickets, festival tags, reminders, and contact-details. "And if we've forgotten anything, we can pick it up along the way."

"To be honest, you'll get a lot of mileage out of a tube of toothpaste and a leather thong," Giulia shrugged, and Liz chuckled.

"But you checked the tyres? And you've got plenty of snacks and water? And sunscreen? And you know which cities not to draw attention to yourself?" Liz asked anxiously. "And you know who to call if anything happens–?"

"Mom, we're gonna be okay," Caroline giggled, too excited. "We've done our research."

"I know; I'm just being a mom," Liz sighed, deflating. "Alright, c'mere. Give me a big hug, and you can go." She grabbed her daughter in a huge, lingering hug. Then she turned to Giulia, a slash of dark next to Caroline's airy sundress, sunglasses glinting. "And you, too. Be careful." She gave Giulia a huge hug, and then let go. She let them go, climbing into the Beetle, windows scrolled down, music playing, driving carefully with the addition of the trailer, and Liz waved until they were out of sight.

She sighed, already feeling the quiet in their absence.

"Don't worry, Liz," Damon said, hands in his pockets, as he sidled up beside her. He'd come as much to say his goodbyes to Liz as see the girls off; he was leaving Mystic Falls, itchy in this town without his little-brother around to hang out and fight with. According to Caroline, breaking the news to Elena of Stefan's indentured servitude to Klaus had fallen to Damon; he'd felt it his responsibility, since Stefan had made the deal to save his life. To say Elena wasn't handling things well was glossing over some pretty important details, but Liz was relieved she still had Jeremy around. Her heart had stopped the moment Matt's shot had hit Jeremy – right in the heart. Good aim, but he'd been so horrified he'd turned over the gun to Liz immediately. She didn't think he'd ever touch one again.

Damon sighed, squinting after the long-disappeared Beetle. "They'll be okay."

"No," Liz smiled gently. There was one thing she knew for sure, though everything she knew was changing again. Stefan was already gone; Damon was heading off, who knew where. 'Soul-searching', he'd teased, promising to send postcards to coax Liz into early-retirement. Their lovely friend Rose had decided to stay at the Boarding House as a live-in caretaker of sorts; Rose had agreed, and Giulia had asked Matt if he wanted to stay rent-free at the house for his senior-year so he could focus on school and attempting to get a football scholarship, with very educated Rose as private tutor.

Mason wanted to take Tyler to form connections and ties with other werewolves, he was planning a few weekend trips before he enrolled in the police academy, motivated to…settle down, and join the Sheriff's Department to help protect his friends, the town, use his position on the Founders' Council to help people – Liz remembered the kid he had been, and hadn't been so sure, but she'd given him a series of interviews to test his mental-preparedness for the vocation, and she had come away from them impressed. She also felt that girl, Hayley, had something to do with the fact he wanted to come home to Mystic Falls and find a house.

Jeremy Gilbert was apparently headed to New York this week to start some summer art programme with the sweet girl Liz had met a couple weeks ago, apparently, Elijah's adopted-daughter. Ric and Jenna were headed to South America for their honeymoon, leaving a distraught Elena to the care of Bonnie.

Her world was changing, her kids…were growing up. Caroline and Giulia had left for a three-month road-trip across the continent. And then…who knew? The world was theirs.

"They'll be extraordinary."

The End.

To continue reading about Giulia's adventures, look out for Resurgam.