A.N.: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

Drunken Binges, Funerals and Formals

37

Smug

The Thanksgiving week Giulia spent with Ashlyn set the precedent for a lifetime of friendship, based on movie-nights at home with copious amounts of homemade baked treats, take-out and candy; shopping for the quirkiest trinkets and t-shirts they could find at the mall and in vintage shops, bingeing at the M.A.C. counter and raiding Sephora; and pushing Ashlyn around the supermarket in the cart as they filled Giulia's pantry with fast-acting yeast, dried fruits, essences and high-quality dark-chocolate, every good thing they could think of after going through the cookbooks Ashlyn had brought with her and Giulia had found in the kitchen, Giulia having nothing to feed her guest but O-negative and strong black coffee.

They messed around at home while the rain lashed down, with makeup, old vinyl records, and dough. The kitchen, usually a barren wasteland where coffee was ground and the dishwasher filled with blood-laced crystal tumblers, had become the centre of Giulia's life at home. With the enormous granite island and copious amounts of strong bread flour and yeast, the two girls set up Giulia's laptop, or Ashlyn's iPod, and watched episodes of Pretty Little Liars, Thor or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Burlesque, or listened to their favourite playlists while they kneaded dough and mixed cake batter and whisked egg-whites. And they had fun.

Giulia hadn't laughed, truly laughed so hard her stomach hurt and tears streamed down her face, for…too long. It started the morning after the dance, when she and Ashlyn shuffled downstairs to scrounge for breakfast. She found an old box of unopened Lucky Charms in the pantry, and shoving blood-bags and empty egg-cartons aside in the refrigerator, she found three vanilla Starbucks Frappuccinos… Having no other alternative and a blazing curiosity, Ashlyn had got her camera out, taking pictures for her Photography class, of Giulia eating Lucky Charms doused in Frappuccino.

They'd eaten breakfast out.

Ashlyn was caustically funny and clever – she carried her camera everywhere, and took especial delight in capturing Giulia as she threw her head back and laughed louder than she had in weeks, over a breakfast of melon, hash-browns and peanut-butter cup pie; or painting a small mural on her bedroom wall with nail-polish, a Deco interpretation of the gang all dressed up for the Fifties dance (Giulia, Ashlyn, Car and Jeremy, Jenna and Mr Saltzman, rather), painting an elaborate frame around it with gold Sharpie and flicking onyx-copper paint with a dainty brush… Or kneading dough by hand, fingers covered in goo, bits of nuts and dried fruit and chocolate everywhere, half-dressed because it was laundry-day and she liked the fire warming her bare legs as she shuffled around in fluffy-lined slipper-socks. And she'd narrowed down her favourite makeup looks, her signature, Ashlyn called it, to three specific, contrasting looks – her tousled high-ponytail with a lock of hair wrapped around the band, and a clean face, glowing features and dramatic Lana Del Rey-esque winged eyeliner, nude lips and gold hoop earrings; or her hair up in a messy ballerina-bun after drying it into natural curls, with clear mascara, soft baby-pink blush blended beautifully and illuminated cheekbones, soft pale-grey eyeliner and natural pink lips. Or her take on a thick Katniss braid, naturally curling hair plaited with twists into a thick braid, with smudged smoky black eyeliner and shimmering nude lips.

Her favourite new toys were her 'High Brow Glow' by Benefit Cosmetics, the dainty gold lion doorknocker studs she had found at the mall when she had acquired an 'I Survived the Fire Swamp' t-shirt, a Vincent Longo 'Dewdrop' radiant blush, a sugar thermometer and a biography of Niccolo Machiavelli, and the Barbie-doll she had sent Cara gift-wrapped by Fedex; her new blowtorch, and her new KitchenAid.

Ashlyn was on a high from excessive perfume sampling, and stank the entire kitchen out as she used Giulia's new KitchenAid – iridescent hot-fuchsia shimmer, with a glass bowl (the subject of Ashlyn's envy) – to knead dough. Giulia teased her for 'cheating' by using the mixer, where Giulia did it all by hand and excessive physical exertion. They created a Bake-Off/Hip-Hop workout routine, kneading dough and dancing to Jessie J, Pitbull and decided that Pitch Perfect was an awesome movie – too many focused on dancing (it was Giulia's opinion the Step Up franchise be ended swiftly and violently, after a trailer for the newest movie had popped up before they could watch a hilarious Rowan Atkinson 'Schoolmaster' skit on YouTube, and the Comic Relief David Tennant/Catherine Tate school skit).

Texting Jeremy excessively as they watched Weird Science on Giulia's laptop, they had been experimenting with the recipes Kol had given Ashlyn before she left Manhattan for numerous of his favourite cocktails that he made, with organic ingredients and homemade alcohol, at his bar in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

"Hey!" Damon called, sauntering into the kitchen. He eyed the mess, quirked an eyebrow at Giulia, then rolled his eyes. "Put on your pants. Need ya."

"Ha! Usually I hear 'I need you – take off your pants'!"

"Excuse me a minute –" Damon grimaced, and pretended to hurl in the corridor.

"What do you need?" Giulia asked.

"Need someone gorgeous and villainy draping themselves dramatically behind me when I ambush Little Bro at Dad's gravesite," Damon smirked, his eyes lighting with interest at the cooling-rack where a plaited brioche was filling the room with a decadent aroma. "Figure you're gonna put on some pants today?"

"I could," Giulia said, pulling a thoughtful face. "So it's tonight?"

"Well, I just dropped Jeremy Gilbert off at The Grill where he met his new friend Anna to play some pool – he'd told her about his ancestor Jonathan Gilbert's journal when she helped him write his extra-credit essay… Points to you, BTW. Totally called that one. Anna, I mean," Damon sniffed, smirking. "Anyway, I happened to wait until Little Gilbert had his seatbelt on before I drove off and heard Hero-Hair with The Girlfriend up in her…bedchamber–"

"Ew."

"–about the copy of the journal Mr Saltzman had made after Jeremy let him borrow it to read," Damon smirked, rolling his eyes. "Stef took it off him, Anna I guess now has the original. So right now Stefan and Elena are gearing up to dig up Dad's grave, and I need you looking all fabulous and villainy when we go call them out on their…deceitfulness."

"You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?" Ashlyn said, eyeing Damon shrewdly, her lips twitching with amusement.

"Absolutely," Damon smirked indulgently. "Come on – go get sexy. Need you looking appropriately wicked."

"Okay, so…put on my Maleficent horns?" Giulia asked, wiping her hands off, as Ashlyn chuckled. She glanced at her friend, "You coming?"

"I've got my bread," Ashlyn said, indicating her rising dough.

"Oh, right."

"I might have a look at, um," Ashlyn said, glancing at Damon, before looking back at Giulia, "at the spell." Damon's eyes went sharply to Ashlyn.

"Yeah, that would be good – I doubt we'll be long," Giulia said, dusting her hands off. "Just long enough to make them squirm and get a high off the self-righteousness of catching them being dishonest."

"Have fun," Ashlyn chuckled. Giulia went upstairs, slapping Damon's hands out of the way and eventally shoving him out of her bedroom when he tried to pick out her outfit from her dresser. She changed into tight jeans, a plain black long-sleeved t-shirt, a cropped leather jacket and buttery-soft black leather gloves, undoing her two braids so her hair created a warm curtain over her ears. Damon was waiting in the foyer, and he drove them out to Giuseppe Salvatore's grave. Using vampearing, Damon told Giulia that Stefan was already digging – chatting with Elena all the while about how it was "twisted and kinda sad" that Damon believed he was doing everything 'for love'.

As if he was completely incapable of loving anyone.

The leaves crunching beneath their boots, Giulia was glad she had put on her gloves, ducking her chin down into the collar of her jacket, zipped up tight, a black pashmina looped around her neck for warmth, and Damon hummed tunelessly as he strode through the undergrowth, heading in a straight line for Giuseppe Salvatore's gravesite.

"Hm," Damon giggled softly, and Giulia glanced at him. He smirked indulgently. "They've opened it. Can't find anything book-like among the bones. Strange. Has to be there, according to Elena."

Giulia glanced up, catching Damon's arm as a sudden thought hit her.

"What?"

"If we don't say a word, they may think the grimoire was never there," Giulia said quietly, aware that just as Damon could hear Stefan and Elena talking, Stefan could just as easily hear them. "They'll get complacent and relax, thinking you can't get into the tomb. They'll back off."

"And we'll be ready," Damon said, glancing over his shoulder toward Stefan, then back at Giulia, the cogs visibly churning. He pouted.

"But I wanna catch 'em out," he pouted, almost stamping his foot. Giulia shrugged.

"Your choice. Either way, we're getting that tomb open. Bree's still coming up, right?"

"Yeah, called her yesterday. Said she'll want the full moon to help channel some oomph into the spell," Damon sighed heavily. "That's –"

"Friday-night," Giulia said, checking her phone.

"Yep. Just have to keep the grimoire safe till then," Damon said, giving Giulia a grim look.

"Ashlyn's a witch," Giulia said quietly. "Be nice to her, she might pitch in, if this Emily Bennett was indeed sooo powerful not even Dumbledore could cross her." Damon scoffed. "So what do you want to do? Go and crow over Stefan and Elena – I mean, I'll enjoy that too – or just let them believe you'll ultimately fail anyway."

Damon glanced at her, and she knew which he'd chosen – she grinned, and he slung an arm around her shoulders as they strode toward Stefan and Elena.

"Well, whaddaya know?!" Damon called loudly, and Giulia saw Elena give a huge start and whirl around, flashlight sending a beam of light arcing to the trees. With the almost-full moon above, even the impenetrable woods were illuminated. Stefan's head was just visible, standing on top of his father's coffin. As Damon took on a vengeful, predatory pose (shoulders broadened, stiff, feet slightly parted, scowling), Giulia smirked indulgently and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning casually against a tree-trunk. Damon raised his eyebrows expectantly, a smirk niggling at the corners of his lips, "Looking for something in particular? Or, did you feel like a little father-son bonding in the moonlight? Bring your girlfriend to meet the fam? That's a little morbid, Stef."

Stefan, who looked so young with the moonlight and shadows playing across his features, glanced up at Elena, who stood with her shoulders hunched, knees turned in, chin down, holding onto her flashlight like it was a lifeline. They shared a look, and Giulia wondered if either even dared to breath. A vengeful, angry Damon was one thing; a jubilant, smug one was sometimes far scarier.

"Well? Did you find anything?" Damon asked, an irritatingly smug look on his face.

"Damon…what did you do?"

Damon chuckled indulgently.

"I acted on Giulia's foresight and nabbed the grimoire before you even got the idea into your head to try to steal it from me," Damon tutted, smiling happily. Stefan blinked in confusion, glancing from Damon to Giulia, who gave him a taunting finger-wave. "Y'see, Giulia here knew you'd be rabid at the opportunity to screw over your big-brother, after he's waited the hundred and fifty years you condemned him to, alone, so we dug up Dad days ago."

"Why, why would you –?"

"Let you believe I was still looking? That I needed your help? For this delicious moment right here, watching the two of you squirm," Damon smirked. "Offering to help me, Stef?"

"Apparently it seems we both knew it would lead to this," Stefan said solemnly.

"Mm. And why d'you think that is?"

"I can't let you have her back, Damon." Damon let out a derisive laugh, glancing back at Giulia.

"D'you hear that self-righteousness?"

"It's gagging," Giulia sniffed. She smirked, eyeing Stefan, "With a hint of hypocrisy." Damon chuckled.

"Just a hint."

"Well, the Ripper's a secret," Giulia said, in a stage-whisper to Damon, her eyes on Stefan. She knew there was no way Stefan would disillusion Elena to his dark side by telling her about the Ripper. She believed he was a superhero, all-good, and he basked in people believing he was the consummate good-guy.

"Oh, right," Damon grinned, enjoying putting Stefan on the spot like this. No, Stefan would never tell Elena about the Ripper – or he would, and spin it to his favour, most likely blaming Damon – because he was too ashamed, and in denial about his own past and potential.

"You…you two planned this. Planned to catch us out?" Elena said, her eyes widening, lashes fluttering, wounded… And there it is, Giulia thought, rolling her eyes at Elena.

"Given you've taken up residence in Stefan's bed lately, you're automatically aligned with my two-faced Little Bro, so, yeah, you were a part of this little scheme of ours, sure," Damon shrugged. "How's it feel to be the liar? The awful person who's hurting someone just out of spite."

"Damon, I…" Elena trailed off, sighing guiltily.

"Nothing to say?" Damon pestered, smirking. "No 'this is for the greater good', you can't let the people you love get hurt? Well, you're doing a bang-up job keeping your loved-ones safe. Your little bro's befriended a six hundred and fifty-year-old little vampire. Bravo for your protective instincts. Should've perhaps been paying more attention to your family than your boyfriend's every desperate vanilla attempt under the sheets."

Giulia snickered, then laughed out loud. Even she could see Elena's blush in the dark. A muscle ticked in Stefan's jaw.

She noted there was no reaction to the news Jeremy was kicking it with a medieval vampire.

Stefan eyed Giulia. "You just went along with this?"

"It was my idea," Giulia said coolly. Stefan's eyes widened, then his features took on a pleading, sombre expression.

"Giulia, please – when he gets into that tomb, when the vampires are released…you know what will happen," he said pleadingly.

"How do you know what'll happen when Katherine gets out of the tomb? Have you even asked Damon what his plans are? Where he'll take her?" Giulia snapped. She scowled. "Staying here, infiltrating the Council, that's all been to get Katherine back – think he'll stay around when the humans are still on red-alert?"

"I think a lot of people are going to get killed, Giulia, and you're enabling him to make that happen," Stefan said seriously, as Damon smiled indulgently, knowing the effect his smile had on Stefan, who was becoming increasingly more nervous.

"You think so? It should be you doing his utmost to help Damon. Because we both know you owe him this. You owe him Katherine. You owe him the joy you took from him when you condemned him to an eternity without her," Giulia said quietly, as Elena backed up a few steps from the grave when Damon sauntered over, to take the shovel from her when Stefan passed it up. Stefan paused, turning to Giulia, who squatted at the edge of the grave, elbows on her knees. She spoke quietly, so Elena couldn't hear, but Damon could, and Stefan hung on to her every word. She didn't break eye-contact, and she envisioned this was what compulsion felt like – meting it out, rather. She breathed, "You can spout whatever vampires-are-vegans philosophies you like to Elena, she doesn't know any better, but you say Damon has no regard for human-life, that he enjoys inflicting pain on others, that every time you've managed to make a life for yourself, he's come in and ruined it. That was his due. And as for inflicting pain for the pleasure of it, he doesn't write the names of his victims on his liquor-pantry wall so he can relive each torture, each kill, the way they screamed for their loved ones, the terror in their eyes. That is all you, Stefan. Don't transfer that onto Damon. He leaves his girls back in their dorms with headaches. He doesn't have to scatter the body-parts in the woods where coyotes and mountain-lions will get rid of the evidence. Although…that's not your style, even, is it? No, you just put the pieces back together and leave, as if it never happened. That you're not the monster who makes other vampires nervous. The Ripper of Monterrey, who consumed an entire migrant village in a day. That's you. So I don't know how you figure you deserve Elena, yet Damon, who has his fun and leaves his victims minus a few pints of blood but alive…he doesn't get his Elysium? I think you're due a few sessions with Lexi, Stefan. You've forgotten."

The muscle was ticking in Stefan's jaw. Giulia had straightened, dusting her palms against her jeans, turning away toward Damon, when Stefan bit out, "You're just as bad as he is, for this, you know?"

Giulia paused, glancing over her shoulder. She said quietly, "There are those of us who are decent and like to pretend we're wicked…and then there are those of us trying to conceal how hideous we are by trying so hard to be virtuous… And when we open that tomb, I won't bat an eyelash at toasting those vampires – because I'm a decent person who's willing to do awful things because it's the right thing to do. This, what you were trying to do to Damon? That's hideousness trying to be worthy in the eyes of his girl. I just hope she's worth your relationship with Damon." She eyed Elena nastily, then turned her eyes back to Stefan. "This could have been the start of something new for the two of you. You could've put the past hundred and fifty years behind you…Katherine's still pulling strings, and you're still letting her." Her eyes lingering on Elena, Stefan's jaw was in danger of spontaneously breaking from the pressure of that muscle ticking.

"Elena is not Katherine," Stefan breathed, somehow realising where Giulia's thoughts were headed.

"Not yet," Giulia corrected sharply. She glanced from Elena back to Stefan. "Katherine didn't get that way for no reason. She had to start somewhere."

She reached out for Damon, who slung an arm around her shoulders, whistling jauntily as they sauntered off. A few minutes later, still walking, Giulia glanced at Damon.

"Are they talking?"

"Yep."

"What're they saying?"

"Giulia's helping him?"

"It looks that way."

"We can't let them open that tomb. We've got to make Giulia see that this isn't right, what she's doing – he's got her under compulsion."

"I'm afraid he hasn't. Giulia's had vervain jewellery since birth. And Damon doesn't need compulsion when it comes to Giulia. She has always loved him… She'll always take his side, and try to do right by him."

"Well – she can't want twenty-seven vampires loose on the town!"

"She's just lost her father, Elena. Besides Caroline, he was the only person she had in her entire world. Right now I don't think she particularly cares too much what happens to everyone else's families – she's already lost her own. Because of me."

"You were trying to protect me, Stefan, she understands that."

"Yeah. She understands her father was murdered because I put your safety above her dad's. The only parent she ever had, and…her friend. She and Zach had a wonderful relationship – completely different to my own and Damon's with our father."

"Maybe, if I talked to her… I could convince her that what she's doing is wrong."

A chuckle. "Elena, this is Giulia. I don't know if you've just not been paying attention to her your entire friendship, but Giulia…she sticks to her convictions. She's exponentially clever than the rest of us; she's devoted to Damon; she has hiding places only she will ever find; and I do believe that she's willing to do awful things for…for the 'ultimate good'."

"So are you."

"Except I'm willing to hurt my brother in order to do it. She's found a way to cancel out the danger and still make sure Damon gets Katherine back."

"Well – they can't do anything without the grimoire, right? If we find it, if we can destroy it–"

"You'll never find it. Damon's likely given it to Giulia. There's no guessing where she's hidden it."

"Then I'll talk to her. Maybe I can get her to tell me where it is."

"Elena – this is Giulia. There's no trying to mentally trick her into revealing what she's done with the grimoire, she'll see any attempt coming a mile away."

"Well, what if I were to get her vervain jewellery off her, you could compel her to tell us where it is."

"Wow," Giulia said, eyebrows rising. "That's low."

"And we're the bad guys."

"Naughty," Giulia corrected lightly.

"Especially in the bedroom," Damon smirked, and Giulia snickered, crinkling her nose, swatting at him. They climbed into his car and drove back to the Boarding House, where Ashlyn was just pulling a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven, and instead of disappearing to his room with a bourbon, Damon shrugged off his leather-jacket and sat with them in the kitchen, listening to music, playing cards and telling them about the gorgeous foods he had consumed on Grand Tours throughout Europe, Africa and the East in the past century and a half, the flavours and textures he had adored, and they pulled up recipes online to try and play with. He mixed them some drinks, fiddled about on Giulia's laptop making a playlist, they laughed watching an old episode of The French Chef and Damon decided to join them for dinner.

He told stories, about how Giulia's dad had learned how to cook proper Italian food to impress Giulia's mother, who missed the food-culture of her homeland. Her mother had been a gifted cook – she had felt most comfortable in the kitchen, cooking and baking things her nonna had taught her to make when she was still tugging on apron-strings. Damon started teaching Giulia to cook and bake the way her mother had. The slow way. Using physical strength, putting care into everything she made, wasting little.

He showed them how Gianna used to make her olive, tomato and rosemary focaccia, and the simple recipe she used to make pasta, using a polished broom-handle to roll out the dough so thinly, cutting it by hand rather than a machine. While Giulia made the focaccia dough, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she made something her mother used to bake for her dad, something she would never taste from the care and lifelong experience of making it that her mother had poured into her baking, she tried to assuage the stab of jealousy that Damon had known and adored her mother, and Giulia had never had the simplest and oldest of comforts, of even being held in her mother's arms.

As Ashlyn cut the pasta dough by hand, giggling as Damon shuffled and nudged her, trying to throw off her perfectly straight tagliatelli, Giulia's focaccia – something she didn't know why she hadn't been baking before, it was so easy and…oddly gratifying, playing with the oily dough – Damon stood at the stove, showing them how to make Gianna's Bolognese, darker in colour than usual, so rich and delicious, full of flavours from rich red wine and herbs. They put together a salad of fresh tomatoes of all shapes and colours from Giulia's greenhouse with black olives, salt and olive-oil, and sat in the dining-room for a change.

And Damon told more stories about Gianna. Giulia didn't know why – it wasn't his way to dwell on the past – but his stories… Gianna had been hilarious. A bit of an eccentric, a heavy smoker (well, she was born-and-bred Italian!) with a caustic sense of humour, a defined mischievous streak, utterly adoring of children, swarmed by them whenever she and Zach had gone to Founders' events, a passionate, fun woman who was devoutly Catholic and had taken to teasing all of the 'heretics' of the town. Damon's stories had Giulia's stomach hurting from laughing, and tears ran down Ashlyn's cheeks as she giggled uncontrollably at Gianna's fear of snakes, leaping into an old Jeep on safari in South Africa at the sight of one.

The dinner was amazing, and they ate slowly, talking, listening to music, sharing a bottle of red wine – not their usual fare, but this was a rich Italian meal and it deserved a decent bottle of wine. With the fire crackling in the grate, a bit of Pavarotti on in the background, it was a wonderful evening, one of the few Giulia had experienced in a while, and certainly a one-eighty from what she was used to at home, even with Damon.

"You never talk about her," Giulia said quietly; Ashlyn had gone to take a bath to get the dough out of her hair and wash the makeup off that they'd been playing with, and Giulia stood at the sink, washing the dishes while Damon dried up. Giulia didn't know whether to say 'Gianna' or 'my mother'; either way, she was talking about a stranger. Damon glanced at her, knowing who she meant regardless.

"It's the hair, I guess…and the earrings. I came into the kitchen earlier, and…you looked so like her. Doing what she loved," Damon said, giving a little shrug. "It was weird. Like I'd walked into a time-warp." Giulia nodded silently.

Damon drifted off with a bourbon after they had done the dishes; Giulia climbed into the bath after Ashlyn, and they spent the night watching Katherine Hepburn movies, debating why Wodehouse had never been turned into movies, watching their favourite Gilmore Girls episodes (most of them including Finn or one of the girls' movie-nights, or the best Friday-night dinner fight), listening to music, going through Ashlyn's grimoire for the fun spells she had been learning, and planning their week around what they wanted to bake! They picked which movies they wanted to see downtown, planned to go to the Fall Fête, wanted to go to the mall and kept sending Cara Instagram photos of their fresh manicures – Giulia's, inspired by Maleficent (Ashlyn believed Giulia had the Maleficent mentality down), Ashlyn's, the dinosaurs-on-a-spaceship episode of Doctor Who – holding Giulia's doll Cherry Jam to show off their nails rather than a polish bottle, to freak Cara out.

Ashlyn had drifted off to sleep before a quiet knock sounded on Giulia's door, and she climbed out of bed to pad over, and squinted at Damon in the light splashing in from the illuminated hall. "What's up?"

"These are for you," he said quietly, handing her two things: a glossy photograph without a frame, and something gold, glinting in the light. Blearily, she noticed the photograph was of a very beautiful dark-haired, olive-skinned woman with vibrant blue eyes and an impish smirk, her dark, curling her drawn up into a ponytail, leaning over a butcher's block kneading dough, wearing a plain black long-sleeved V-neck t-shirt, her rounded belly sweet and pretty. Gold hoops glinted at her ears, and at her throat, a tiny gold pendant shone. It was her mother. Standing in the kitchen where Giulia had been stood today, kneading dough by hand. Wearing gold hoop earrings, a ponytail. Simple top.

Her throat burned, and she glanced at the second item Damon handed her. It was a locket. A deeply delicate, sinuous gold chain, with the tiniest of gold oval lockets dangling from it.

"Gianna bought it for you. She wore it every day she was pregnant," Damon said softly. "Think she'd want you to have it now." He leaned over, to kiss her forehead, and said, "'Night."

Giulia sank onto the bed, trying not to disturb Ashlyn, just holding the photograph, feeling the cool metal of the locket slowly warming to her body-temperature as she held it to her chest, her throat burning.

She could hate Damon all she liked for what he'd done to her father, but when he did sweet, unexpected things like this… This was her Damon again. Not the manipulative, cruel façade he presented to infuriate and terrify his little brother. And when he did things like this, heartfelt and thoughtful and unexpected, Giulia could breathe, and not have to hate him. She could…almost imagine things might get back to a healthy place between them. Not the way things were – he had killed her father, after all, and she was growing up. Their relationship couldn't be what it had been during her childhood, if only because she was no longer a child.

She carefully clasped the locket around her neck, creeping over to her mirror to examine how it sat on her décolleté. She propped the photograph against the mirror, staring at it. Everyone who saw them together thought she and Damon could be twins – but looking at this photograph of Gianna, her mother…she was her mother's daughter. There were so few photographs of her mother lying around this house, even despite all the antique clutter that had accumulated and drove her mad, that she had never seen it. But she looked at the photograph, and in the mirror, and knew with absolute certainty this woman was her mother. That baby-bump Gianna was grinning about in the photograph was Giulia.

A.N.: Please review. I know it ended on a rather maudlin-but-sweet note, I find myself writing things I hadn't even planned lately! But this chapter, and the road-trip to Bree's, sort of marks another turning-point in Giulia and Damon's relationship.