A.N.: How do we feel about Damon with a werewolf? The irony is delightful, don't you think? The idea kept me sane at work on Thursday.


Machiavelli's Daughter

05

Corpse Reviver


As they walked, Giulia told Stefan the basics, the lay of the land as it were, how things stood ten years on. Stefan seemed most shocked by the fact that Giulia herself had become a mother. She didn't know what that said about how Stefan had seen her when she was a seventeen-year-old, but they had never been close. He had been too wrapped up in Elena to get to know Giulia. And just now, Giulia didn't go into details; she didn't correct Stefan's mistake in thinking Enzo was her husband. Truthfully she wasn't ready to explain Fabian.

Perhaps she should get some practice in, before… Before she had to tell Elijah.

The reminder that she had removed the dagger, that he was waking up in the witch-house and probably this minute gaping in disbelief at his family

It was reunions all around.

Hopefully Elijah would be too shocked that she was actually alive to ask for details about what she had done with her life.

She had PhDs and degrees coming out of her ass; maybe one day she'd actually figure out what was going on with her marriage. Only then she might actually be able to explain it to someone else. It was what it was. She was in limbo; and she hated it; and she dreaded the reality of it ending.

So she told Stefan what she could: She told him about Bonnie, and Sheila's upcoming retirement. It was important Stefan knew that Bonnie was a Muggle now; he listened with an intent frown as Giulia told him about Tulane and the witch-coven Bonnie had fallen in with, promising her help to cure Sheila of a cancerous growth that had turned out to be benign. Bonnie had gone down a very dark path out of desperation and grief and Giulia had hauled her back by her hair, kicking and gouging and spitting blood, against the advice - and attempted intervention - of highhanded New Orleans witches who had wanted to lock Bonnie up in a witch-asylum, tucking her out of sight rather than putting in any effort to help her. When Stefan had known her, Bonnie was a baby witch just learning how to levitate feathers and dabble with locator spells. Now she was little more than a Squib and they were all waiting to find out whether Penelope and the Unborn had inherited her magical ancestry, or if Sheila stripping her powers had robbed Bonnie's children of their heritage. Giulia didn't know which Bonnie dreaded more.

Stefan smiled, when she told him about Ric and Jenna, growing sombre about Ruth's hearing problems; his lips twitched and he shook his head, laughing, when Giulia told him the story about Ric and Jenna's son's naming - or misnaming. Believing it was all due to Damon's intervention that Ric had met and married Jenna in the first place - after turning his first wife Isobel - Damon had felt that honouring him by naming their first son after him wasn't too much to ask: at the registrar's office, after a fist-fight and a squabble, Ric and Damon had compromised. So Ruth's little brother was officially named James Damon, referred to as J.D., and Jenna still glowered whenever her son's full name was mentioned - though the fiery glare was losing heat; she knew she wouldn't have married Ric if Damon hadn't turned Isobel at her request.

No Damon, no J.D.

Ric and Jenna knew they had been given a second chance with each other, and had been brave enough to chase happiness together.

"I took a walk past the Gilbert house just after we got into town," Stefan admitted, as they wandered along. "Half-expected to see Jenna dashing out of the house still getting dressed, with toast in her mouth, tripping over her purse strap…"

"She and Ric bought a place together when Jeremy turned eighteen, they said it was only fair," Giulia said. Ric and Jenna had lived at the Gilbert house after they got married, saving money by renting out Ric's loft, looking after Jeremy, who in turn had helped them, still in high-school when Ruth was born. Years later, using their combined inheritances, Jeremy and Ashlyn had bought Elena out of her half of their childhood home. If Stefan had stopped by the house any other weekend, he might've seen Jeremy sat on the porch grading papers, while Ashlyn tended to the flowerbeds. A born-and-bred Manhattanite, it meant the world to Ashlyn that she had a backyard, and their flowerbeds were the envy of the neighbourhood.

"And you, are you still living in the place by the lake?" Stefan asked, and Giulia nodded.

"Yeah, Enzo and I live there, with Zita, and the animals," she sighed. Because even though they weren't married like Stefan had incorrectly guessed, they were family; Enzo didn't want to be anywhere else in the world but with his girls. Giulia enjoyed having a family, even if she didn't have her husband.

"So what's, um, what's going on with the Boarding House?" What Stefan meant was, what had she done to his home?

"I had it renovated. After Damon left, Rose stayed; she's been living there ever since, she managed the restoration of the house while I was away at school…actually she and Matt kind of became a family; Matt lived at the house until he was twenty-four…" Giulia said, and Stefan nodded, frowning softly. "Anyway, the Boarding House is now a venue for weddings, for events… It's a destination restaurant. There's a fully-equipped commercial kitchen and the ethos is to grow produce on the premises, and if not we buy local, seasonal… We renovated or converted the other buildings on the property - the barns and the old stables; even the glasshouses in the walled gardens. Believe it or not, they actually took the longest to restore, they're actually still ongoing. We added the pool and spa a couple years ago - except to rejuvenate the panelling, we didn't touch the library." Even though she hated it; too many bad memories. Damon had killed Ric there; Giulia had been tortured by werewolves. She had always loved the library, until that point. Ever since, she had hated the house she had been tortured in, the house she had found her father murdered in…

Maybe one day that would change again, but at the moment, she still hated it. She kept it, because it was her house, it had been Stefan and Damon's safety-net for decades, and it now provided a source of income but…she still hated the fact that her relatively wonderful childhood memories had been warped by everything that happened in her adolescence.

"I saw the gardens; they're doing afternoon-tea there and cards. Doll would be happy; she used to have her girlfriends come over to play bridge in the rose-garden," Stefan said, with a sad smile. Dorothy - Doll - Salvatore was Giulia's great-grandmother; she was the namesake of the renovated movie-theatre downtown, which Giulia also owned. "Um…what about…my room?"

Giulia glanced at Stefan. It was her house; it had been her decision. The Boarding House had been Stefan's depository since 1903, leaving behind every happy memory he had, dusty in an old attic bedroom. "Before the renovation started, I had all your things boxed up and if they weren't from the last three decades they're in storage; everything else we set up in the smaller barn - including your journals. You'll like the barn; it's not as moody as the attic but it has exposed stone walls and the original beams, and it has a pretty view of the vegetable-gardens. The water-pressure in the shower is delightful."

"What'd Damon think to all this?"

"Well, he's with Lexi and she thought it was a great idea. Her actual word was 'liberating'," Giulia said, pulling a face, and Stefan chuckled softly. "So…he just had to accept it. His room's now the honeymoon suite. I thought he'd appreciate that." Stefan scoffed lightly, smirking. "And he was all for building a pyre with your old crap and lighting it up like Dido - but, Car stopped me." She sighed shortly, and Stefan chuckled; he knew he was a packrat.

"I'll have to thank her for that. Hey, what about the wine-cellar?"

"Under lock and key, don't worry!" Stefan grinned. "I know the limits of Damon's tolerance; selling the Macallan and the 1925 Glen Garioch to randoms would cross the line. I moved our personal stash."

"So…a destination restaurant and hotel, huh? Serve any good bourbon?"

"I'd better: I own a distillery."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Bourbon, and a gin distillery too. I blame Rose and Kol entirely; it's their influence. My relatives are notorious lushes," Giulia said, and Stefan chuckled; it was true. "I figured I might as well invest and try and make some money out of our family's substance-abuse issues."

"We do spend a lot of money on bourbon," Stefan agreed.

"Well, you and Damon never bought groceries."

"So does it have a name? Your bourbon?"

"Resurgam." I shall rise again. She smirked.

"A little on the nose," Stefan said, smiling; Giulia shrugged.

"The original product needed rebranding; Resurgam fit in a lot of ways," she smiled. "And it's a gorgeous bourbon; Damon nurses it, he doesn't just down it."

"A compliment," Stefan said, raising his eyebrows. They knew each other's drinking habits too well. Stefan guzzled the stuff to dull his instinct; Damon, to stifle his conscience. She had been taught to appreciate the ceremony and artistry of cocktail-making by Kol; if she had a drink that wasn't served with a meal, she made herself and Enzo one of the handful of Scotch whiskey or bourbon-based cocktails Kol had taught her how to make - her favourites were the Manhattan, the Rob Roy and the De La Louisiane. She liked other cocktails too, like the Gin Blossom and Between the Sheets, and of course a decent bottle of prosecco, she felt, outdid any overpriced Champagne, but she always went back to her favourites. And since becoming best-friends with Kol, she always served cocktails with a tiny bowl of olives or salted almonds or delicate cheese biscuits. She didn't like drinking on an empty stomach; alcohol no longer replaced a meal, it complimented them. Enzo was a true Italian raised to complement every aspect of the day with a beverage perfectly suited to the flavours of a meal; together he and Giulia had rediscovered his passion for food and drink and life, and they had adopted many of his old traditions into their new lives.

Investing in the bourbon and gin distilleries were as much about securing another source of income as helping her friend secure his life's passion; Kol had asked her to become his partner in the distilleries. He had the expertise, and Giulia the interest: So they had relaunched Resurgam bourbon and Valkyrie gin, opening the distilleries to cocktail-making master-classes, tours and pre-wedding party weekends with accommodation and five-star dining. Giulia's involvement with the everyday running of the distilleries was negligible; she and Kol owned the distilleries but Kol's day-job was his nightclub in the French Quarter. They allowed others to run the businesses for them; which was necessary, because Kol never aged. It was an investment opportunity for Giulia, rather than a passion-project. She enjoyed being a consumer: After actively helping reboot the brands, she had become a silent-partner.

"There may be a bottle in the barn," Giulia said, glancing at Stefan, who raised his eyebrows. "Maybe." He smiled softly.

"I look forward to it," he said softly. He sighed, squinting across the campgrounds. "Did you tell anyone else I'm back?"

"I haven't had the time; they're all still asleep," Giulia said. She was only up so early because of her brood. Zita wandered along beside her, holding her hand, sucking her thumb.

"Do you, uh… How do you think people will react?" Stefan asked. She sighed heavily.

"In all honesty, I'm not sure," Giulia said, half-truthfully. She could anticipate a few people's reactions; the subject of Stefan had been brought up often enough since she had returned to Mystic Falls, the first Salvatore to return after the family exodus a decade ago. "There's only one way to find out."

"I can - I can come back…"

"Why?" Giulia frowned. "I thought Rebekah had her heart set on dancing."

"She's changeable," Stefan said quietly, as if this was an understatement. She had read Stefan's 1922 journal; she remembered his descriptions of Rebekah's volatility.

"Well, I'm not explaining to everyone why Stefan Salvatore, who hasn't been seen in ten years and doesn't dance, is out on the dance-floor, doing the Charleston with some pretty girl," Giulia said, because Stefan didn't dance, and Rebekah was pretty.

Just as there was no gentle way of telling Stefan that the girl he loved had become a mother by another man in his absence, there was no real way of softening the impact of Stefan's reappearance, and the implications, to everyone he had left behind. Giulia wandered back to the teardrop trailer with Zita holding her hand and the dogs gambolling around, and Stefan keeping pace but slightly separate from them. Perhaps he was hesitant to be close to Zita, who darted off as soon as Enzo was in sight, running up to him to hold onto his leg and yawn, leaning against him familiarly, scenting the air as the dogs did for the bacon Enzo was frying.

"Heard you two talking; I threw a few extra rashers on for you," Enzo said, glancing over at Stefan. Enzo's bacon-butties were the best. Giulia smiled and kissed Enzo's cheek and sat Stefan down in one of the chairs with a milky coffee as she searched for the bottle of HP sauce she had bought at extortionate price from the British food-store in Richmond. It was worth it. Ever since living and studying in London, she had become an unabashed Anglophile; Enzo's accent constantly reminded her of Central St Martins, where she had completed her Architecture degree, and soaked up as much culture as she could squash in around city-breaks across Europe.

"Zita, quietly," Giulia warned, as Zita fiddled with the iPod dock, turning on a playlist, hastening to turn the volume down with a guilty look at Giulia.

"Oh. My. God." Caroline had emerged from her tent and she stood, in cute little pyjamas and gumboots and a cardigan, a handkerchief tied over her hair in rollers, gaping at Stefan. He stood up hastily, cradling his coffee almost shyly.

Caroline hadn't changed. Not really. Her hair was a little shorter, more platinum than golden, touching edgy, but she was just the same; her figure hadn't changed, neither had her vibrant blue eyes or her inability to disguise her reactions. Caroline had been a new vampire when Stefan had last seen her; a decade on, she had proven to be the very best of what a vampire could be.

"Hello, Caroline," Stefan said softly, glancing at her almost shyly. Caroline's bright eyes flicked from Stefan's face to Giulia, sharing a speaking glance. Then she giggled, and ran to hug him, threatening to knock his coffee flying. And it was standing side-by-side with Stefan that Giulia remembered just how young Caroline had been when she was turned… The two of them looked perfect together - perfect, and young. Eternal teenagers.

"Caroline, I don't have enough bacon for you," Enzo remarked, glancing up from the frying-pan.

"That's okay, Mom's bringing donuts," Caroline smiled easily. She turned a shy smile on Stefan. "You're home…"

"How've you been, Caroline?" They sat, and talked, while Enzo cooked and Giulia helped and Zita hummed along to the music with Tisiphone curled in her lap, and fell asleep again after half a bacon-butty. Giulia left her to nap under the watchful eye of Enzo while Stefan and Caroline chatted, and drove her Beetle to the lake-house; she had to check on Hector the hedgehog and feed Simba. She cleaned out the litter tray, folded a load of laundry and tapped out a few emails, and caught sight of her shattered figurine in the trash, yet another reminder. Her phone pinged, a notification lighting up her screen.

Caroline had shared her videos and photographs of Zita and the other little kids on an App that Giulia had been working on for Jenna and Mason ever since Ruth and Spencer had been tiny; they had wanted to share their memories of their babies with Giulia and Ric's relatives, half a world away, but didn't trust Facebook privacy-settings. Using the skills Slater had spent an afternoon introducing her to, and which she had honed, Giulia and a select handful of fellow undergraduates at NYU had created an invite-only, closed-group, password-protected App that backed up precious memories, creating visual timelines and digital scrapbooks of their children's lives, and produced beautiful physical memory books full of photographs through a publishing partnership. Like Kol's distilleries, the App was another of Giulia's sources of income; she was on the Board and made the quarterly meetings but after putting in the initial work to design the App, start the company and get everything up and running, she now left the business to be run by other people. She had thought up the App as a sort of gift for Ric and Jenna, and Hayley and Mason, as a way for them to save their memories; now, Giulia was privileged to be able to share her daughter's life.

There were a select few people who had been invited to access the stream of photographs and videos. Messages could be sent and received and printed in the memory-books alongside photographs, and she smiled as she read Sasha's beautiful comment on the video of Zita's Shirley Temple dance. She plugged in her phone to charge, not wanting to miss any other opportunities to photograph and document her daughter's life later; and checking the time, she smiled and connected to a FaceTime call. He answered on the second ring.

An hour later, she was back at the campsite, bearing confirmation for Zita that Simba wasn't crying from loneliness; and most of the others were awake, bleary-eyed and hungover and nursing strong coffees while the kids ran around with Jeremy, giggling, and Giulia's friends caught up with Stefan, who had looked uncertain but relieved when Caroline had sat down to chat with him, and now looked a little overwhelmed and dazed by the sense of ease and the relaxed atmosphere he found himself in; maybe he had dreaded people making a bigger deal out of his return. Maybe the implications hadn't sunk in yet. Or Stefan was remembered as being so broody but polite and well-liked that it didn't matter.

Liz had indeed procured a big pink bakery box, and in a shocking, rare display, Carol Lockwood wandered over in her pyjamas and cotton robe with no makeup on, to share a cup of coffee and a yum-yum while Spencer had breakfast with Ruth and J.D. and cuddled little Penelope. Ever since she had learned the secret, ever since Tyler had decided not to return from New Orleans after graduating, Carol had learned that some things just had to be accepted; she had relaxed. Maybe that was Mason's influence. Her priorities had shifted. But Giulia still snapped a picture of Carol when she wasn't expecting it and sent it to Tyler; he wouldn't believe his mom had been seen out in public - in the elements - with no makeup, no bra, her hair untouched, wearing her pyjamas!

Carol's friendship with Liz had altered over the last ten years; it was much more genuine. They were two of the few who knew the secret; two of the handful Damon and Giulia had allowed of the original Founders' Council to remember the truth, and remain a driving force behind the Council's agenda to protect Mystic Falls from the supernatural. Only, now they used the supernatural beings who called Mystic Falls 'home' to help protect the town, rather than instigating witch-hunts and massacres.

They were two of the few parents remaining to the handful of kids affected by the supernatural, the last time vampires had come to town.

Giulia saw Carol looking thoughtful as she subtly watched Stefan; and the sadness in Liz's eyes as she carefully folded the empty pink bakery box, listening in on her daughter's conversation with Stefan.

His expression only faltered really when Carol asked after Damon; "Is he coming back to town, too? You two always used to bring such character to our Founders' Parties…of course we had no idea that you two were actually sons of one of the Founders…!"

"I, uh, don't know - I haven't seen Damon in years," Stefan admitted, pulling a face that was at once irreverent and devastated.

"I suppose when your lives are so extended, a few years doesn't seem like much at all," Carol mused, thinking of Tyler, who, like Mason, was aging much slower than was natural. Carol felt every day of her son's absence. Widowed young, her son half a Continent away, Carol's life now was her philanthropic work, her social calendar and Spencer. She visited Tyler during a particular jazz festival celebrated in New Orleans every spring before it got unbearably hot, and came home sad but content that Tyler had built a life for himself that the both of them were proud of.

"I haven't been to New Orleans in a long time," Stefan mused, after Carol told him Tyler had left home, frowning softly to himself as if he had just realised something. He caught Giulia's eye. "It was an old friend's playground for a good while, though. It has a culture all its own."

"It certainly does," Carol smiled warmly. "Tyler enjoys it."

"I'm surprised Tyler became a teacher," Stefan said. Truthfully he hadn't had much interaction with Tyler beyond stopping him from lashing out physically at Jeremy Gilbert, back before they knew what Tyler was - or what he had the potential to become. He hadn't spent time with Tyler since his first transformation; Stefan had left town too quickly after Tyler triggered his curse to know that Tyler had been enveloped in the folds of their family of misfit supernatural puzzle-piece toys.

"Well, certain life-events shifted Tyler's priorities," Carol said softly, a sad smile on her face. "He's found his purpose." Stefan nodded, looking mildly interested; Giulia handed Carol a top-up of her coffee and Spencer hobbled over, wincing, his ankle bloody where he had tripped over a guy-rope and torn the skin on one of the pegs tying a tent down. Caroline brought out her First Aid kit - ever prepared - and Giulia tended to the wound, frowning softly at the presence of a couple of bruises. Spencer was an active kid who played a lot of sports, but there was a bruise on his upper-arm and Giulia had seen bruises there before.

She tidied up Spencer's leg, sticking a small bandage over the cut, and sent him on his way, but not before exchanging a frown with Carol, who had noticed.

People might excuse Hayley, saying she had a temper. She did. Being a mother was hard work. It was. Maybe her kid had behavioural issues. Spencer didn't. It was his mother who had the issues; it was Spencer who caught the backlash whenever Mason and Hayley fought, no matter how hard Mason tried to protect his son from the grimmer realities of his parents' marriage. When Carol drifted off with Spencer to get ready for the day, Stefan sidled up to Giulia, quietly, frowning.

"So whose… Who are Spencer's parents?"

"He's Mason's son… Do you remember Hayley?"

"Yeah, the werewolf," Stefan frowned, after a moment. "She's the one who bit Damon that night…"

"Mm-hmm." Not that Hayley deigned to remember that night, or show any sign of contrition. She hadn't known Stefan, didn't think anything to having bitten Damon, and she and Giulia were polite - but not friends. Giulia was friends with Mason, and was idolised by their son Spencer.

"So she stuck around town after the ritual?"

"It was a relatively vampire-free zone after you left. Hayley got pregnant within three months of the ritual," Giulia said quietly, as Stefan helped her do the dishes on the fold-out table. She and Caroline had become a well-oiled machine when it came to camping out in the teardrop; they had turned cooking out of it into a culinary art-form. Stefan's heavy eyebrows rose, pulling a face one might expect to see on someone who had been brought up in the sexually-repressed Victorian period. "Whether or not she intended to is open for debate, but…Mason married her that fall and Spencer came along soon after."

Giulia had been invited to the wedding - by Mason - a quiet, curiously romantic event at dusk on the Lockwood property, the foliage turning ochre and scarlet and purple around them; it had been intimate and relaxed, although there had been a funky feeling underlying everything. They knew Mason was marrying Hayley because she was pregnant. She had looked very beautiful, in a simple ivory silk sheath dress with subtle glam sparkles and an interesting open keyhole neckline, backless, to distract from the bump she tried to hide with her small bouquet of orchids.

She didn't think anyone had really been impressed with Hayley, beyond her looking such a beautiful bride; but Mason had done what he viewed was the right thing by marrying her, had graduated the Academy and joined the Sheriff's Department as an upstanding, devoted, reliable Deputy. He had found them a house; and he cried when Spencer was born.

Mason still burst out laughing every time his wedding-day was brought up in conversation; none of them would ever forget that Giulia had had to hide in an en-suite while Mason and Hayley went at it after the ceremony. As soon as she'd found an opening she had darted out of the room, leaving them flabbergasted, in disarray, with Mason gaping and Hayley giggling, and shuddered as she downed a few fingers of bourbon. There was a reason she knew the sex was amazing for them; their entire marriage was based on it. When real life, when parenthood and the exhaustions of the Sheriff's Department had started to catch up with them, and that aspect of their marriage had been set on the back-burner…what else had they had, except Spencer?

Giulia had gifted them their wedding-rings rings; bands of polished redwood and raw hecatolite - moonstone - bound by a narrow seam of gold.

They were moonlight-rings, blocking the effects of the moon on werewolves just as daylight rings made of lapis lazuli and silver blocked the side-effects of sunlight on vampires.

Giulia had helped Sheila write the spell that created moonlight-rings: Giulia wasn't a practicing witch by any stretch of the imagination but she had a brilliant mind and those rings had marked the start of her obsession with the Occult that had led to one of her PhDs. She wasn't a born witch but she was brilliant, and appreciated the delicacies of witchcraft; she had learned the language, the rules, the code of magic. Sheila mused that the first witches in history had been like Giulia, learning how to read Nature, experimenting, learning, before there ever were rules laid out in ancient crumbling grimoires for new generations to learn from and respect and add to. They had learned to harness the magic of Nature, until their descendants had been born with the innate ability to manipulate the elements.

The rings protected werewolves from the influence of a full-moon, but they didn't diminish their strength or their senses. Mason and Hayley never took their rings off - neither did Tyler, who received one when he graduated high-school - but they had had to learn how to handle their strength, their aggression, their tempers, by themselves, the same way everyone did. Hayley…struggled.

"Anyway…with Tyler in New Orleans, Carol's kind of become Spencer's surrogate grandmother," Giulia said. "And he spends a lot of time at our house."

"You seemed close," Stefan observed, and Giulia nodded. She didn't tell him that she was getting closer to losing her temper with Hayley. It wasn't the first time she had noticed a bruise on Spencer that hadn't come from sports. Hayley always regretted losing her temper, lashing out at her son; but Spencer hurt from it. He didn't have the supernatural healing of his parents - and her strength and volatility, to Spencer, were normal.

"He's a sweet kid," Giulia said honestly.

"Anyway…thank you for breakfast, and everything," Stefan said quietly, looking around uncertainly. "I should…I should probably go and make sure Rebekah's not snacking on the townspeople." Giulia nodded, and Stefan gave her an awkward smile before nodding and walking off. She watched him go, before turning back to the dishes she was drying, and a shadow fell over the table.

Glancing up, Matt's features were drawn in their now-familiar intense frown. He had frozen in his tracks on his way over to them for breakfast; he had seen Stefan, who had gone out of his way not to ask about Grayson, who was now docile and dozy in his father's arms. Giulia reached out to tenderly stroke the back of her pinkie-finger along his bare, chubby arm, letting him curl his tiny fingers around the end of her finger. He smiled at her, lazily. Matt looked like something was on the tip of his tongue, just didn't know if he should say it.

"Did you know?" he finally asked, accusation lacing his words. Intensity roiled off him, and Giulia wasn't surprised or offended. Stefan's return meant more for Matt's family than it did for anyone else, including Giulia. She hadn't brought Stefan back to town, to throw everything up in the air; she wouldn't do that to Matt. All she could do was try her best to limit the damage. Hence, the Originals.

"Stefan's decade with Klaus is almost up; I guessed he'd be coming home soon. I didn't know he'd show up this weekend," Giulia said honestly, and she frowned gently. She looked Matt in the eye. "I would've given you prior warning if I'd known he'd show up here today. If Elena had been here…"

Matt looked down at Grayson, shielded from the sun by his father's broad shoulders. "Does he know?"

"I told him," Giulia said gently. "Not everything, but he knows you and Elena are married, that you have a son together. I didn't tell him…" She didn't tell Stefan, a notorious fixer, that Elena was struggling. The idea of Elena suffering had always been Stefan's worst nightmare: Giulia didn't want him interfering in something that Elena should be leaning on Matt to help her get through - but wasn't. "I didn't tell him that she has post-partum depression."

"Does he know that you had Damon compel Elena to stop looking for him?" Matt asked. He had been there, just as Bonnie and Caroline and Tyler had, when Elena went off the rails trying to figure out a loophole to get Stefan out of Klaus' clutches, tracking his whereabouts, their kills… Giulia had put an end to it; the others knew Damon had compelled Elena to accept that Stefan was with Klaus. They had gifted her with acceptance; everything else, she had had to work out for herself, missing him, having no closure, no goodbye, just abandoned by the boy she loved so he could save his brother's life.

Giulia glanced at Matt, and nodded slowly. "He knows…after the near-miss in Tennessee…" She sighed heavily, remembering the farmhouse, Kol's help; "He knows."

"I - I'm worried how Elena will react to him being in town," Matt said softly. "They never… I know Elena doesn't love me - not the way she still loves him…"

"Matt," Giulia gasped softly, heartbroken.

"It's okay - I know it. You know, I've always known it. She's never looked at me or smiled the way he could make her smile, when she's with me, even before," Matt said, still cradling Grayson. Their relationship wasn't entirely loveless; Grayson had been born out of love. "We were happy together, you know, nothing's ever gonna be perfect and epic and…I just tried my best to give her the life she deserves and…and I love her… But I know that I'm the next-best thing. And that has to be okay; I got Gray out of it, you know? My life with Elena's been more than I ever imagined I'd ever have… I'm just…struggling."

"We know," Giulia said sorrowfully, wanting to tuck Matt and Grayson in her arms with Spencer and Mason and never let them go. Becoming a mother to Zita had sent her maternal instincts into overdrive: Orphaned at seventeen, her family had grown over the last decade to include Caroline, Matt, Rose, Enzo, Fabian, Zita, Spencer and Mason, Carol, Liz, Sheila and Bonnie, Kol, Sasha, her friends from various schools, Meredith, Victoire and Cara, even some of the contacts she had made while dismantling the empire of hatred and terror Klaus had built for himself over the last millennium. She knew her life was richer because of the people she had embraced in it; she wasn't like her father, who had cloistered himself away, drowning in his grief and loneliness. Her life wasn't perfect: Some of the choices she had made had affected her life now, like Matt, like Hayley, like Caroline, which was why she tried not to judge.

She rarely treated people the way they so often deserved, like Hayley, who was flaunting her affairs and bullying her son not to say a word to the father he adored, or Elena, who even before giving birth to Grayson had often needed a good hard slap, failing to appreciate the wonderful life she had with Matt. And worst of all, Matt knew it.

"Matt… You deserve better," Giulia said earnestly. He was the most hard-working, loyal person, and Fate kept dealing him one backhanded slap after another. Every time he found level footing, a new fissure appeared threatening to swallow him whole.

"I don't know what's gonna happen next," he said quietly, despondently, his expression so at odds with the beautiful morning sunshine making his eyes glow vivid blue.

"None of us do," Giulia said, although that was a white-lie. She didn't truthfully know what was going to happen with Elena; who could? "But whatever does come our way… You're not in this alone. You know you always have us. You have me and Zita, even Enzo, and Rose - Rose would do some Game of Thrones-level nasty for you -" Matt gave a soft chuckle despite himself, because he knew that was true; Rose was the mother and sister and best-friend Matt had always deserved, rolled into one - "and there's Ric and Jenna, and Jeremy's probably the best little-brother anyone could ever have. Ashlyn adores Gray and she loves you, too… Whatever happens, we're here."

"I know," Matt said softly. "I couldn't've gotten through the last couple months without you all."

"Asking for help is the hardest thing you can ever do," Giulia said, from experience. "But I'm so glad I did, when Zita was a baby."

"You and me are both kinda in the same position, huh? I never appreciated how hard it was for you, with your husband… Elena's here but she's not, you know?" Giulia nodded. Fabian was physically distant; Elena was emotionally removed from her child's life.

"Fabian and I made the decision…because it was better for Zita," Giulia said quietly, thinking of her own choices, and the choices Matt might have to make soon. Things couldn't go on as they had. Reflecting on her separation, and Mason and Hayley's relationship, Giulia knew that sometimes, staying together for the sake of the kids was the last thing the kids needed: if Elena wouldn't get help, there had to be some kind of resolution. It wasn't safe for her; and it wasn't fair for Grayson - or for Matt.

"How… How do I tell her?" Matt asked, looking like the lost seventeen-year-old she remembered, his sister dead, his mother a mess, with only his friends for family.

"Maybe you don't," Giulia said, and Matt frowned. "You don't have to be the one to tell her. That's not her life anymore… You are."

"We should be," Matt corrected on a mumble, adjusting Grayson in his arms. Elena's post-partum was hardest on Matt, who had to bear the weight of being a new father to Grayson, and being a carer to a disinterested woman who didn't want help. "I should…I should get going…"

"You're not leaving, are you?"

"No… I promised Jer and Ashlyn I'd stay the weekend, so… I had a good time yesterday, I don't want anything to ruin that," Matt said; weekends like this were rare for him. And they had all learned; if they put their lives on hold for the supernatural, they would soon find themselves old or dead having never truly lived at all.

She watched Matt walk away across the grass, toward the tent he was sharing with Ashlyn and Jeremy. Camping with a two-month-old baby was easy for Matt, compared to taking care of Elena. It was Grayson's first 'stay-cation'; Giulia was sure Ashlyn had her camera out, going full-on Caroline Forbes on her still-unofficial nephew. Reminded of Ashlyn, Giulia's thoughts turned back to the witch-house, to Elijah, who had raised Ashlyn…

The fine hairs at the back of her neck tingled, and she turned, coming nose-to-nose with Kol. She yelled, and stepped back. "Kol!"

"Un-bloody-believable. Really, a text?"

"It was dark; you wouldn't have seen the smoke-signals!" Giulia retorted, gently pushing Kol a few paces back, maintaining some sense of personal space. He sighed heavily, grumbling, but stepped back, glowering.

"Of all the bloody weekends they had to turn up, they chose this one!"

"The cosmos has aligned."

"It's a fateful cockup, is what it is," Kol glared at nothing in particular. "Is Nik here?"

"Stefan said he left him at the National Park," Giulia said, watching as Kol, in his agitation, went to the back of the teardrop, and the liquor supply, and she listened to the familiar sounds of Kol mixing cocktails. It was nearly eleven a.m.

"So has your dear old uncle said anything?"

"Just from what he didn't say it's clear he's been conditioned to keep Klaus' secrets to himself," Giulia replied, busying herself around the awning tidying up, putting things back inside the trailer, tripping over Gallant when he got underfoot. She glanced over at Zita, attempting to play badminton between the tents with J.D. and Ruth, and having a conversation using stilted sign-language - the Saltzman clan were learning ASL, which meant most of their friends and family had made the effort to learn some too; Giulia thought it was an excellent skill for Zita to have. "But he didn't deny anything."

"Did he mention the dreams?"

"No. I told him what I've heard; he didn't deny anything, but he didn't offer anything either," Giulia said.

"And Rebekah?"

"I only got a glimpse of her early this morning; she dismissed me completely. She's prettier than I'd thought," Giulia admitted.

"You've heard too many stories about what she's really like to think that her beauty's anything more than skin deep," Kol muttered, soft chinks and metallic ringing issuing from the back of the teardrop. Giulia pulled a face; she had read Stefan's journals and been treated to a decade's friendship with Kol, and all of the stories he told in manic-depressive drunken stupors. If anyone was bipolar, it was Kol, whose highs were stratospheric, and whose lows led to murder-sprees that made the Ripper of Monterrey look like an amateur. Giulia had learned the warning signs; and how to haul him out of his worst moods if she was too late to stop him sliding down the rabbit-hole.

"How long has it been since you've seen Rebekah?" Giulia asked.

"Last time I saw Bekah? 1919. The Great War had ended, dreaded Prohibition was on the horizon…the prodigal son Marcel had returned from the Front. Somehow Mikael found us living in the Vieux Carré," Kol sighed, and Giulia scented absinthe on the air. It was strange for Kol to speak so openly about Mikael; but then, Giulia knew the story of Kol's conception and early life through Elijah. Kol had told her things he hadn't spoken about in centuries; they had bonded over their mutual obsession with exploring the Occult. Mikael, the vampire who hunted vampires, was one of those stories. "Elijah had just enough time to pull the dagger from my heart before they all fled - Elijah to Europe; Nik and Rebekah to Chicago, as it turned out."

"Do you think Rebekah's been daggered this whole time?"

"More than likely. Here…" He handed Giulia a pale drink; she scented vermouth, gin, Cointreau and fresh lemon-juice, and just a hint of absinthe. A preserved cherry garnished the drink that glowed like a moonstone in the sunlight.

"What's this?"

Kol gave her his signature smirk. "Corpse Reviver."

Irony through alcohol; she loved Kol.


A.N.: So, it wasn't just Enzo who was abused; I have a thing for Kol, too. If they'd only listened to him in TVD so many truly awful plot-lines could've been avoided.