A.N.: Cashy7183980, you were my 400th review for this story, so this chapter is dedicated to you!

Panic is also setting in about my assignments due for university on 13th and 16th March, so… I will have to take a step back from Resurgam for a couple of weeks, at least until my essay and presentation are submitted.


Resurgam

32

Invited


"Stop staring: It's creepy."

"I don't trust her."

"Because she ordered a decaf almond-milk latte with a shot of coconut syrup?"

"Not that that's not cause enough for concern," Damon said, scowling across the café. "Did you see the look on her face when she saw you?"

"She'll never make it rich playing poker."

"So you were targets."

"Just because my being here startled her doesn't mean she's guilty of plotting an assassination attempt."

"Uh, in this town? It absolutely does," Damon said, eyebrows rising, before he turned back to scowl at Abby Bennett across the crowded café. The drawback of Ashlyn's success was, of course, that everyone and their estranged mothers turned up at the café for brunch or pastries to go. "Save your breath trying to convince me that you don't believe she's the source of all evil; I know you think she's trying to cull the supernatural herd so she can get at Bonnie."

"You and Elijah are worse gossipers than Sheila's mah-jong girls," Giulia said, sipping her coffee.

"Well, actually, Elijah told Gyda who told me and Liam over drinks the other night," Damon said in an affronted tone. "Liam and I had a blast. Forgot how much I missed that overgrown Labrador."

"What a unique way to describe the oldest, most powerful werepire in history."

"Werepire?" Damon repeated, disdain dripping from his voice, his expression pained and disturbed. "That's what we're calling him? Really?"

"No, but I just wanted to hear you say that word," Giulia snickered, teasing, and he rolled his eyes. At least he was no longer trying to ignite Abby Bennett on fire with the sheer force of his mind - something she could do to him as an afterthought if he annoyed her.

"What really pisses me off," Damon declared, glowering across the café as he crumpled his napkin, "is that I ruined my new boots tramping through the woods trying to track that werewolf - sorry, vargulp or whatever it is."

"Vargulf," Giulia enunciated. "It's not a supernatural Big Gulp. And I don't know why you bothered; if Willem couldn't even pick up the scent, you never stood a chance."

"Yeah, and how is that possible? I once watched Liam track a witch from a single speck of blood through New York City during summer in the subway," Damon said, his expression flummoxed, and Giulia crinkled her nose. She had moved to New York City as summer faded into autumn and even then, the last stubborn days of humid summer heat and the stench it created in the city had overwhelmed her.

"Well...Isak said a vargulf is a werewolf enslaved to witches through magic," Giulia said.

"So we're listening to Isak now?" Damon said snidely, staring at her: They'd had a run-in, as Damon was prone to do with everybody at some point.

"About witches, yes. Of course, I'll weigh his comments against more credible sources," Giulia said, "but it would be foolish to ignore him."

"Thought Kol was your walking Witchipedia," Damon said, and Giulia shrugged.

"He suggested to Willem that whoever has enslaved the werewolf has concealed their scent, covered their tracks," Giulia said. "It's what I'd do, just in case someone tried to track the vargulf; she can't lead us back to the witch controlling her."

"She?"

"Like you said, Willem is…unusually gifted, even for supernatural beings," Giulia said softly. "He's dealt with vargulfs before… And every living creature gives off signals, intentionally or not - even masked by magic. Communication isn't always verbal - he didn't get the scent, but he got an imprint of the vargulf… He knows the vargulf is female, and young - very young, from the confusion and pain Willem picked up on…"

"Why can't Sheila use the blood spilled in the parking-lot to get a hit on the vargulf?"

"Sheila's over with Bonnie and the babies; she's actively declining any invitations to get involved," Giulia said. "But Ashlyn took a look; someone is jamming her."

"Wonder who," Damon said pointedly.

"To control a vargulf, and conceal it from even Willem?" Giulia said thoughtfully, and shook her head, "Bennett witches are notoriously powerful but even Abby couldn't channel that much magic without repercussions."

"So we're looking at more than one witch."

"More than likely. And they're not schmoozing Founders and old friends and being seen downtown at cafés and trying to build bridges with estranged daughters," Giulia said pointedly. Abby was showing her face in town for a reason. She had yet to engage personally with the supernatural residents of Mystic Falls, beyond her own family, for a reason. No-one ever looked at the smiling woman who was kind and seemed to want to make amends. Put herself front and centre, and allow the people behind the scenes to proceed with their plans unobserved. A sleight of hand, a diversion. A calculated risk. The game… "They'll be a lot harder to track down."

"Sometimes I think you've forgotten who you're talking to," Damon said, smiling handsomely at a pretty girl who wandered past, blatantly checking him out. "You know how goal-oriented I am. And how murder-happy."

"Speaking of…" Giulia sighed softly, gazing at Damon as she fiddled with the handle of her coffee cup. "How was Enzo today?" Damon flicked his eyes at her, eyes so familiar it was eerie. Damon and Enzo had shared a bond…they knew each other - knew the liberation of being vulnerable with each other. They knew how to read each other - and when they needed to pull each other back.

And the attack on Giulia and Zita…? She was too tired to hold Enzo back. He had relented, and stifled his immediate instincts to go on a murderous rampage through Mystic Falls - because he had seen that Giulia was shaken to her core, and needed him at home, with her, with Zita: But he had simmered with tension the entire weekend, needing to hunt down and butcher whoever it was who had dared hurt his family. Enzo did not forgive lightly. And an attack on her and Zita…

Giulia knew Enzo had contacted Damon about partnering up to traipse through the woods, certain they could do what the Original werepire could not and track down the vargulf on the loose through sheer sense of will alone - or at least painfully slaughter anyone who got in their way. Damon was right: he was goal-oriented. And he was more than happy to do the unspeakable. And Damon…was a toddler throwing a tantrum compared to Enzo's artistry.

Damon flicked his gaze over Giulia carefully, then said quietly, "He's spooked. It's not often we're reminded you're not invincible." Giulia gazed back at him, unable to find the words to respond to the look in Damon's eyes…soft, concerned, wise…he understood, perhaps more than he let on, just how shaken Giulia was. "How are you doing?"

"I'm tired, Damon," Giulia admitted quietly, sadly. She was fucking exhausted. She was tired of being seen to…be invincible. She was…tired of cleaning up everybody's messes…she was tired of always being the bad bitch everyone took for granted she was, at any given moment. Constantly vigilant, on her guard, anticipating the next awful thing to happen…

"You're not tired," Damon sighed, staring at her. Understanding flickered in his eyes, discerning… "You're lonely… And because you're lonely, you're sad…loneliness is exhausting. I'd know: I spent a hundred and fifty years being tired… I think Enzo's more hurt you didn't call him when the attack happened."

"Willem had what I needed to heal," Giulia said simply, clearing her throat, though she knew Damon was right: Enzo was hurt that she hadn't called him for help. She'd handled the situation, as she handled everything else, though - because she could… Enzo was a devout feminist but she was his family - it didn't matter if it was her or Zita or Spencer or even Damon, if they were in danger, Enzo was going to fight to protect them. Him being upset she hadn't called for help had nothing to do with her being a woman, and everything to do with her being a woman he loved and respected. "I know Enzo's overwhelmed we were almost… But we weren't…we weren't."

"I'm betting Abby Bennett has no idea the dragon she just poked in the eye," Damon smirked. "You know…she thinks we don't know there are other witches in town doing her dirty-work…wonder what you'd learn if she's too focused on you being alive to worry about little old me."

Giulia grabbed Damon's hand before he could rise from the table, eyes hawkish, predatory, as they watched Abby Bennett leave a tip and rise from her table, tucking a notebook in her purse with her phone. She fixed Damon with a stern look, "At least be subtle about it."

Damon smirked luxuriously, "Who are you talking to?"

"Damon, she's still a nasty bitch, okay, there are more ways to punish a vampire than to kill one…" she warned, giving him a dangerous look. "And when her disfigured corpse eventually shows up, you don't want people pointing the finger - blend."

"Honey, Salvatores have never blended into the crowd," Damon scoffed. "Why start now?"

"I am too exhausted to even argue with you - on your fangs be it, go."

Damon sauntered out of the café, leaving Giulia to take care of the bill. She stayed, resting her elbows on the little table, preventing herself from kneading her face because she was wearing mascara, and didn't want to smudge it…though she was exhausted, and just…wanted to close her eyes for a little while…

Her eyes prickled with heat behind her lids, Damon murmuring about Enzo being upset repeating in her mind, and she knew he was still out there, in the woods, in danger of whichever coven had come to Mystic Falls as Abby Bennett's backup, in danger of being killed, or worse, because she and Zita had been put in danger, in their own home, with all the precautions Giulia had arranged, as influential as she was… She knew Enzo was upset at the near-miss: She couldn't reassure him, because Giulia was in no way comforted herself, and for once, she couldn't be the one to rebuild their confidence...

She tenderly pressed her fingertips to her exhausted eyes, and thought about Elijah, in his gorgeous Bentley, reassuring her…letting her be vulnerable for as long as she needed, and buoying her because he knew she had needed it, after the shock of her life. He had told her what she had desperately needed to hear; and respected how capable she was, had always been; took care of things so she could focus entirely on the one thing that mattered - her daughter. He had let her lean on him for support while she carried the burden… Her patient, enigmatic Viking who had regarded her as an equal and in some ways his superior since she was seventeen years old…

Damon was right, of course, though she would never boost his ego by acknowledging it: She was lonely.

Caroline had said she was bored: Damon accused her of soul-numbing loneliness.

They were both right.

The sacrifices she made for her daughter to have the best life, the best start.

She sometimes questioned the person she was, the things she had done over the last ten years, and never more so than this past weekend, still shuddering from the very first close call… Had she pursued a different path, would this have happened?

In the same vein - would Zita ever have been born?

No.

This was her life. As Elijah had said, she was part of the supernatural world, and so, too, was Zita. There was no point denying that: All she could do was prepare Zita for the absurd world they had been destined to become part of, for whatever reason, because of the choices Giulia had made, just as much as what she had been born with the potential to become.

"Giulia?"

She started, half-dozing as she sat with her eyes closed in the warm, ambient café, the scent of coffee and warm pastries soothing, the classical music relaxing. A little dazed, she blinked and a sheet of glistening black hair and pretty eyes came into focus, diamonds glinting at her ears, and Isobel's expression was an apprehensive wince. "Isobel… Are you alright?"

"I am," she said, and Giulia frowned softly at her intonation. Isobel sighed, and her hands fluttered anxiously, licking her lips, and she sank into Damon's vacated chair. "Do you, um…do you have a key to the loft?"

"To Matt's loft?" she asked, frowning, and nodded. "I do…"

"I - need your help." Giulia's lips parted. "I know, Matt doesn't want me inside the house, and I respect that - it's not…it's not about me getting into the loft, it's… I was supposed to meet Elena and Grayson at the park this morning, but…Elena didn't show. I wouldn't be concerned, ordinarily, because, well…she's stood me up before -"

"But?"

"But I stopped by their building and… I could hear Grayson screaming."

"Okay… Babies cry. And Elena…doesn't handle him very well," Giulia said delicately.

Isobel nodded. "I know - but… Giulia, I couldn't hear anyone else."

"What?"

"In the loft. I couldn't hear any other heartbeats." Giulia stared at her, realisation dawning.

Giulia sighed, taking out her wallet, and left a sizeable tip with her bill, tucking her things away - she had been working, before Damon inviting himself to brunch with her. "Okay," she told Isobel, climbing out of her seat, exhausted, grim, but determined once again. She put on her war face. "Let's go."

Matt had bought a loft in Ric's old building, the rich dark banister of the curving staircase to each converted loft in the once grand redbrick mansion downtown only too familiar to Giulia, the scuffed parquet flooring, the unique stained-glass windows in the marble-tiled foyer. Ric's loft had always been rather sparse, but comfortable, in a cosy, academic-bachelor kind of way - he had liked his armchair, his bourbon and his pen-pot nearby so he could grade papers while he watched History Channel shows. Giulia didn't tend to come to the building anymore, not since Ric and Jenna had bought a house together: Giulia didn't get many invites to the Donovan home.

She heard Grayson screaming from the foyer.

Not at her worst had Zita ever screamed the way Grayson was screaming - so violently and so loudly she couldn't imagine how such a tiny body could contain so much emotion. He sounded, and this came from Giulia's own experience…as if he had been screaming that way for a good long while, without being calmed… There had been times Giulia had had to just put Zita down in her crib and walk away, sit down and calm herself down - because she had no idea what she was doing and just had to step away… That was when Enzo or Caroline or Liz stepped in, and soothed Zita while Giulia took her turn having a meltdown.

She unlocked the front-door, and started in surprise, frowning, as she swung the door open. Grayson's little hands waved, his fingers unfurling and tightening to fists as he screamed at the top of his lungs, writhing, strapped into his stroller, which was parked just inside the door. Giulia frowned, and Isobel fell behind as Giulia entered the loft; she went straight to Grayson, and made a noise - Isobel made a similar one - at the smell that became all too apparent as she approached.

Little Grayson, barely seven months old, was a mess. His face was violently blotchy and tear-stained, his voice raw as he screamed; he was starting to cut teeth, but his lips were dry, which made Giulia frown - he was dehydrated. Quickly, fighting the immediate instinct to scoop him out of his stroller and hold him close, Giulia checked the loft - the living-room was untidy, dishes were piled in the sink, the bed was unmade in the bedroom, and in Grayson's nursery, the diaper-disposal and the laundry-hamper were both overflowing. The whole loft looked like someone was trying to keep their head above the water - and failing. There was no sign of Elena, except the conspicuous absence of keys in the little dish by the front-door. Frowning, Giulia checked the refrigerator, the kitchen-cupboards - if Elena had rushed out of the house to get emergency groceries, accidentally forgetting Grayson… The cupboards were practically empty, leftovers in the refrigerator beside a single bottle of milk made up for Grayson - the others, dirty, were stacked on the island with an empty tub of formula.

"She's not in there?" Isobel said anxiously, as Giulia returned to the front-door, to Grayson, and the smell. He had been left. Giulia checked her watch - it was noon: Grayson had been left, strapped into his stroller, for hours. He was starving, and he was soiled - his diaper had been overloaded, and exploded, leaking through. The poor baby had been left

Giulia did not want to have to be the one to tell Matt.

She didn't think she could look at Elena without wanting to smack her.

And that wasn't going to make anyone feel better.

First Spencer, now Grayson - she was tired of self-absorbed women who abused the privilege of motherhood. It was times like this she was glad she had no mother; Elena and Hayley made it easy to convince herself she hadn't missed much.

"What can I do?" Isobel asked, fluttering anxiously in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Grayson. Giulia sighed, setting her purse down on the sofa, moving aside a blanket, stripping off her jacket.

"The cupboards are empty. Doesn't like there's any more formula, and they're running low on diapers," she said, grimacing in sympathy. It had been a long time since she had to deal with nuclear diapers. They weren't fun for anyone, especially baby. There was nothing for it - Grayson needed a bath, and he needed a bottle. He needed a cuddle. And she wondered whether she should call Meredith. She passed the empty formula tub to Isobel, who nodded, and departed, leaving Giulia to look after Grayson.

She knew Isobel would probably prefer she look after Grayson and Giulia head to the supermarket, but…Matt would prefer Isobel not be in the loft, and Giulia had to respect that…for the moment. The simple fact was, she couldn't do everything herself - didn't want to.

Isobel disappeared, and Giulia set to the task of taking care of Grayson. She had forgotten how little he was - how tiny Zita had once been - but she didn't miss diapers. She got him changed, cleaned up as best she could, running a bath while she did so; the lavender Johnson's baby wash was overwhelming to her, but the warm water and the scent seemed to soothe Grayson just as much as her holding him in her arms, tucked against her heart did. She bathed him, dressed him in clean pyjamas, and sat down in his rocker to feed him his bottle. His tiny fingers clung to her top and tangled in her hair as he gazed up at her, his eyes still a little glazed, red, but exhausted, now, no longer crying.

"I know how you feel," Giulia told him, tenderly stroking the soft peach-fuzz hair on his head, now turning a dark-caramel colour. Dark eyes - Elena's - gazed up at him sleepily; he finished his bottle, and Giulia, reluctant to set him off by setting him down in his crib, kept him tucked to her front, slipping seamlessly into her old routines when Zita was a baby, doing everything one-handed as she carried the baby around: She put on a load of laundry, filled the dishwasher and started sterilising Grayson's bottles. She was neatening up the living-room when a knock sounded on the door, and she opened the door to find Isobel, a half-dozen grocery bags at her feet and another two in her hands.

"He's calmer," Isobel observed, and smiled beautifully at the baby, who dozed against Giulia's chest. He wriggled, and seemed to recognise her, holding out a tiny hand. Isobel beamed, and held out a finger for him to grasp; the boundary protection stopped her hand before Grayson could reach her.

"He's had a bath and a bottle," Giulia said quietly. "He's a little more comfortable now… Did you want to come in, Isobel?"

Isobel's lips parted. There was no taking back her invitation - this wasn't True Blood: Isobel could return any time she liked and let herself in.

"You know Matt doesn't want me in the loft."

"Matt wants to protect his son," Giulia said gently, squatting to pick up a grocery-bag, expertly balancing Grayson. She remembered this. She had conquered this. Isobel picked up a few bags, and tentatively followed Giulia into the loft. "And at the moment, what Grayson needs protecting from is his own mother… He'll appreciate that you found him, and came to me for help… Where is Matt, anyway?"

"He's in Richmond," Isobel said. "I tried to get hold of him, but… That's why I came and found you." Giulia sighed, adjusting Grayson in her arms as she set the grocery-bag down on the island. They had that to look forward to later, telling Matt… "Do you…have any idea where she might be? Her cell's here, the battery's dead."

Giulia glanced at Isobel, Grayson sighing contentedly against her chest, reflecting on her chat with Damon - after he had spent the morning combing the woods for a vargulf. He'd hinted he and Enzo weren't the only ones on a wolf-hunt. "I have a vague idea… I'm just surprised they indulged her."

"What do you mean?" Isobel frowned, as Giulia drew out her phone.

"Hello, Giulia! You know you're my first phone-call from someone who isn't my family!"

"Your signal is awful; where are you?" Giulia asked, as Rebekah's voice crackled down an echoing connection.

"The National Forest…we're searching for the confused werewolf. What's up?"

"You're all the way out in the National Forest? How long have you been out searching?" Giulia asked, checking her watch.

"Practically since dawn. This bloody wolf is good, I'll admit it," Rebekah acknowledged grudgingly."Makes me wonder if it doesn't have someone magically covering its tracks."

"It's a vargulf, Rebekah," Giulia said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "It does…"

Rebekah had been enduring the hallucinations brought on by werewolf venom for the last few days; she had likely taken off on the hunt the moment she was lucid, infuriated. Rebekah blurted indignantly, "Bloody hell! I was so looking forward to a fresh fur for my bed. Rolling around in it with Stefan would be that much more delicious remembering how I'd earned it."

Giulia met Isobel's eye, and Isobel smirked at the disgusted look on her face, as she sprayed the kitchen counters with cleaning product. "I know that comment wasn't for my benefit; is she with you?"

Rebekah sighed heavily, and said, carefully, "Yes, it's been a rather…annoying hunt. We've been taking our time, forced to do some soul-searching while we pick our way through the underbrush."

No-one could say Rebekah wasn't bright: Exquisitely hinting at Elena's proximity without tipping her off that they were talking about her.

"Sounds delightful."

"It's sapped the fun out of what might have otherwise been a glorious day amid Mother Nature's finest," Rebekah said.

"You're searching too far afield, anyway," Giulia remarked. "Stick to the woods around Mystic Falls if you want a rare sighting of the North American vargulf, they won't stray far from the coven controlling them. And bring any sightseers back to town."

"Hang on a moment," Rebekah told her, and there was silence, Stefan's voice calling Rebekah's name, and a pent-up breath released in annoyance as Rebekah said, "I'm back. We can talk freely. What's going on? Why is the doppelgänger here?"

"Better question; why didn't you stop her from coming with you?"

"Not entirely sure how it happened. Something about her eyelashes and Stefan's deplorable new conscience," Rebekah sniffed, and Giulia smirked. "It is a testament to my newfound patience, Giulia, that I have not ripped her head off in the last hour alone… She keeps going on and on about Stefan's diet and how he 'chooses' to live his life. To 'remember who he is', like he's living in some animated Disney film."

Giulia smiled in spite of herself. "How's Stefan taking that?"

"He's deflecting with remarkable dexterity," Rebekah said playfully. "But then, he always was excellent at banter, holding his own against even my brother… It's rather fun to watch her stutter and stumble over her arguments. I suppose she was used to a Stefan who deeply cared to hear what she thought, and listened."

"That she was," Giulia said softly. She frowned suddenly. "Hang on a second, Rebekah. Why aren't you in school?"

"Oh. Elijah confirmed my absence with the office, he knew there was no chance he could convince me not to hunt for this wretched creature," Rebekah said lightly. "I have a migraine, and Stefan…I believe Damon told the school Stefan has explosive diarrhoea." Isobel snorted, as Giulia smirked.

"That sounds about right."

"I know, it doesn't exactly set a good precedent, my commitment to my education," Rebekah said lightly, as if she had already heard the lecture. "I do rather think a rabid wolf is far more cause for concern than missing P.E. and yet another lesson on Pythagoras and the French Revolution."

"I thought you missed that one."

"Oh, we had fled the Old World for New Orleans by that point, of course; but I do remember the Declaration," Rebekah said thoughtfully. "Strange that a declaration of war is one of the most precious documents in American history, and the other - a bill of laws. The way the teachers at this school would have us understand it, America was the very first society to invent democracy. Forget that Venice had finessed it into an art-form centuries before, not to mention Britain's constitutional monarchy…"

"So you're enjoying school, then?" Giulia smiled.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Rebekah said brightly. "You were in high-school weren't you, the last time Stefan and Damon were in town; I saw you in your cheerleading squad photographs in the trophy display in the Atrium. Stefan says Elena was a cheerleader when he arrived in town."

"That didn't last long," Giulia said grimly.

"No staying power," Rebekah sniffed. "I'm getting to understand that. Why are you calling to check up on Elena, anyway?"

Giulia sighed. "She…left her son."

"Yes, with a babysitter - she told us," Rebekah said dismissively, and Giulia caught Isobel's eye. She opened her mouth to respond; Isobel shook her head sharply.

"I know you don't want to cut your hunt short, but could you at least have Stefan drive Elena back to town?" Giulia asked. "She needs to get home."

"I'll make the suggestion, not that Elena will do anything but exactly as she chooses," Rebekah said derisively. One day together, and she had already picked up on Elena's most defining qualities.

"Thank you," Giulia said sincerely. "Happy hunting." She hung up the phone, and glanced at Isobel. "You didn't want me to mention she abandoned her child, why?"

"Rebekah said Elena was needling Stefan about drinking human-blood; how do you imagine Stefan might use the ammunition that she was a neglectful mother against her?" Isobel sighed, shaking her head. True, Stefan didn't tend to hold back: He was snarky and provocative when he wasn't being kind and considerate - he didn't tolerate bullshit the way he did when he was on an animal-blood diet. And he would use Grayson against Elena to destroy her - to deflect whatever she was trying to throw at him.

"I'd rather he not slaughter her emotionally before we have a chance to get through to her."

"We?" Isobel glanced at her.

"Me and Matt," she clarified, and Giulia nodded. She set her phone down on the coffee-table, and adjusted Grayson in her lap so he could finish his bottle, settling in to the armchair. While Isobel cleaned the kitchen, then the bathroom, Giulia sat with Grayson, letting him finish his bottle, then reading him a storybook.


It grew quiet in the living-room; Isobel padded out of the bedroom, a smile teasing her lips as she realised why. Giulia had fallen asleep. Grayson cuddled in her arms and dozing against her chest, sucking his thumb, Giulia was fast asleep in the armchair, bathed in sunshine from the window, her breathing slow and calm, her heartbeat steady. She had a slender-fingered hand resting on Grayson's back, holding him in place, protecting him, even in sleep. She looked exhausted.

Isobel let her sleep, let Grayson nap with her, not wanting to disturb either. Grayson was overwrought from screaming himself hoarse all morning; Giulia was exhausted… Isobel didn't know why, just recognised that she was. Neither of them woke up, not even as Isobel set about preparing a meal - she brought out a neglected crockpot and started a pot-roast that would be ready by the time Matt got home: Isobel knew his schedule by now, planned her days around his schedule rather than Elena's, which was non-existent.

It had been a long time since she had maintained a home: Isobel spent a good couple of hours cleaning and tidying, a constant cycle of laundry moving from washing-machine to dryer, folding Grayson's little suits, windows open to dissipate the overwhelming scent of cleaning products, as the scent of the pot-roast started to envelop the loft, bringing back memories and a sense of warmth and calm to the loft.

If Giulia hadn't set an alarm on her phone, Isobel wondered how long she would have slept for. When she started, the sound of her alarm ringing through the loft, she looked disoriented - blinking bemusedly at Grayson still slumbering against her chest. She sniffed the air delicately, as Isobel smiled and tucked a freshly-ironed shirt on a hanger to put in Matt's closet.

"I fell asleep," Giulia grumbled.

"Looks like you needed it," Isobel said, ironing one of Elena's dresses.

"I have to go and get Zita," Giulia mumbled, rubbing her eyes, and carefully climbed out of the armchair. Isobel had changed the bedding in the crib and tidied up the nursery; she watched Giulia gently lay Grayson down, and he sighed softly, content, not disturbed by being moved. Leaving the door ajar, Giulia gazed tiredly at Isobel. "Are you okay to handle this?"

She meant telling Matt - she meant Matt finding Isobel inside the loft, alone with Grayson. Isobel nodded.

"We'll be fine," Isobel told her, as Giulia sighed heavily and examined her phone - it had been silenced, but every time she received a text, email or other notification, the screen would light up. Whatever Giulia did, she was obviously a very busy woman, with a lot of commitments, and a lot of strains on her time. "Perhaps I'll give you a call later, tell you how things go."

"Tell Matt, if he needs anything…"

"I'll remind him," Isobel said, feeling that any friend of Giulia's knew they only had to ask, and she would drop everything. Hell, they weren't even friends, but Isobel had mentioned Grayson and that was it; she understood the situation, Isobel's reluctance to get the police involved - to protect Elena as much as Grayson… Matt was lucky in his friend, Isobel knew.

She also knew she was very lucky Giulia had thought she might be of some use someday. She was alive because Giulia had allowed it: She had this second chance with Elena, this chance with Grayson, because Giulia had willed it.

At the door, Isobel smiled at Giulia. "Thank you for helping me today. I know it's probably cost you a lot, work-wise." But she did believe Giulia would have benefited from the nap. She obviously worked too hard.

"It's alright," Giulia said. "One of the few benefits of being your own boss. I'll talk to you later." Isobel heard her wander downstairs, and turned to stare around the loft. Grayson was sleeping, the pot-roast was cooking, she had prepped the veggies and potatoes, the washer and dryer were both mid-cycle, and she had cleaned the bathroom. Sighing softly to herself, Isobel turned on the stereo and continued to do the ironing, waiting to see which of Grayson's parents would return home first, which she would have to confront first. Matt or Elena?


The walk downtown woke her, a little; by the time she reached Main Street, Giulia was with it enough to recognise the pale-blonde hair shimmering in the sunshine. Rebekah was stood outside a boutique, tiny bag in hand, looking perplexed, anxious, almost startled, as she stared down the busy street.

"Rebekah?" Giulia asked, and the vampire started, glancing at her. Her cheekbones were pronounced; she looked…afraid. "Are you alright?"

"I… I thought I saw - but…it can't be… My mind playing tricks on me," Rebekah stammered, giving Giulia a half-hearted, sweet smile.

"Are you sure?" Giulia asked, staring at the ancient girl.

"Quite sure," Rebekah smiled. "I do forget sometimes that a hundred years has passed since I was daggered…things have altered…"

"When did you get back into town?" Giulia asked.

"Oh, a little while ago," Rebekah said, giving herself a visible shake and plastering a smile on her face. Her eyes turned thoughtful. "You always ask how everyone is when you meet them. As if you're genuinely interested to know the truthful answer… How are you, Giulia?"

"Me? Oh. I'm fine," Giulia lied. Rebekah's eyes turned shrewd, but she nodded.

"I haven't yet thanked you. Nothing can be done, of course, to gentle the effects of werewolf venom, but things would have been a lot messier if you hadn't brought me home," Rebekah said. "So…thank you. I'm very sorry the vargulf got the drop on me. I understand from Elijah that your little one was unhurt?"

"Zita slept through the whole thing," Giulia said.

"The silver lining," Rebekah observed, and Giulia nodded.

"And, speaking of Zita, I have to go and pick her up from preschool," Giulia said. "Give my best to everyone, won't you?"

"Of course," Rebekah smiled. "Enjoy the afternoon."

Giulia picked up her little girl, and with Enzo at the Boarding House working, no Spencer, Giulia made the executive decision, bearing in mind how tired she was, not to cook dinner. They had a diner date, just the two of them, and split a dessert. After a bath, Zita climbed into Giulia's lap for a story, borrowed from the Children's Library during their last visit with Spencer; Zita kept having to poke Giulia awake to turn the page.

She was bathed and in fresh pyjamas, propped up against the pillows, a whisper in the back of her mind telling her she would regret her naps come tomorrow, when her workload reflected her laziness today: Her head was so heavy, her eyes so tired, she couldn't force herself to care about anything but slumping under the sheets and staying there for a few days.

Her phone rang, startling her, on the bedside-cabinet: She squinted and shielded her eyes against the blinding screen, noting the caller I.D. and deciding then to answer the call. "Hi, Isobel."

"Hi," Isobel said hesitantly, and with her excellent, sometimes problematic hearing, Giulia could hear an argument going on in the background.

"Is that Matt and Elena?"

"I know it's not fair to let you listen to them fighting, you're their friend," Isobel said apologetically. "I just… I'm hiding with Grayson while they have it out and thought I'd take the opportunity to…just say thank you, for today."

"You're welcome."

"I just wanted you to know, Matt's not mad at you, you know, for inviting me in - I think he was initially stunned to find me doing the ironing and serving him pot-roast, the loft sparkling clean… I told him everything," Isobel said.

"How did he react to that?"

"Well We rehashed what I got up to the last time I was in town… Everything I did, I did to protect Elena, to give her the life she deserved, a life away from the supernatural, where she could be happy and fulfilled…" Isobel sighed, breaking off. "My methods were questionable at best, but I was unwavering in my goal… This time around, I don't have to be ruthless and unemotional about Grayson's feelings to do what needs to be done…his needs are entirely different to Elena's… And I don't have to be that same person Elena first met anymore, not for Grayson.

In the background, voices rose, and Giulia winced: " - you broke your promise to me. You broke your promise to Grayson… We both deserve better than how you're treating us… When I look at you, Elena…all I can see is my mom"

Elena gasped sharply, her voice tremulous as she stammered, "Matt, I - I'll try, I -"

"I don't wanna hear it! You left our son alone in the loft for hours so you could go play detective in the woods searching for a werewolf with Stefan!" Matt fumed, and Giulia winced. "How's it supposed to make me feel that you won't even hold our son but you'll spend hours tramping through the woods searching for something that'll kill you - just so you can spend time lecturing your ex about his choices!"

"They've been arguing for an hour, round and round…and now Elena's crying, again - he's getting angrier…" Isobel sighed guiltily. "Look, I didn't just call you so you could eavesdrop, although I think it's good you know what's going on - for Grayson's sake…I know what you did for Mason Lockwood's son… I'd like to take you out for brunch, if you can schedule me in. I'd love to discuss your thesis and your published works, they're fascinating to me. I'd love to hear about all your research."

"You would?"

"Of course! I've made notes," Isobel said, and Giulia smiled.

"Alright, I'd love to," Giulia said honestly. She hadn't discussed academia in far too long; she missed it. She had enjoyed helping Elijah write his syllabuses for school, and he kept her updated on the progress of his classes. She thought of Elijah, teaching, and of Rebekah, signed out of school so she could hunt a vargulf…the spooked look on Rebekah's face this afternoon downtown, as if she had seen a ghost…

What could frighten an Original vampire?

She hung up with Isobel, reached out to turn off her lamp, and decided not to dwell on things. Not to cringe with worry about Matt and Grayson and what was going to happen with Elena; or what Rebekah could be frightened of. Today had exhausted her. In the words of Caroline Forbes, tomorrow was another day…


A.N.: I'm after ideas for the Originals' Halloween costumes, bearing in mind their histories and personalities; they will all be going to a Haunted House fundraiser. I'm thinking Rebekah bullies Stefan into dressing up as Daisy and Gatsby, or Bonnie and Clyde. Bear in mind, Gyda can bully Elijah into anything…