A.N.: Hello, chaps. Okay, another slow chapter – she's healing from bruised ribs, y'know! For 22cjwolf22. I may dedicate another, more action-filled chapter to you as well for that lovely review!


Dangerous Beauty

24

Rose


She was slower than usual, healing. Physically she was exhausted while her body healed itself; but her mind was running a mile a minute, churning over everything, she wanted to be absorbed wholly by her projects. But she found herself – under the influence of Meredith's strong meds – dozing off while she read, distracted from her sketches, and if she refused to accept vampire-blood to heal, Caroline, Damon and Elijah all forbade her from operating heavy machinery, like her car, or a circular-saw to cut plywood for the teardrop-trailer she and Caroline were renovating, or the stove.

Elijah had woken her deliciously each morning, drawing her purring and writhing into wakefulness with luxuriating kisses between her thighs: her injury had put a brief pause on their game. And he had either driven her to Richmond early for breakfast at one of the many cafés Giulia had started frequenting – biscuits and sausage gravy; white nectarine and strawberry muffins and freshly-roasted coffee; French toast with strawberries; cheesy eggs Florentine – or would cook for them, almond rice-pudding with cherry compote; a savoury Danish breakfast with smoked salmon, rye bread and boiled eggs; a full English cooked breakfast with black pudding, fried bread, sausages and the most delicious, rich mushrooms she had ever had, amazing sausages from a deli in downtown Richmond and thick-cut bacon cooked the English way.

He was spoiling her. He respected that she would not accept vampire blood to heal the bruise now fading to a gruesome yellowish green, though he winced every time he looked at it.

Whatever Elijah was planning, Giulia had her own issues to deal with: She and Caroline were focused on Tyler, and Giulia, drugged up to her eyeballs due to her bruised ribs, sleepless due to her brain working overtime in contrast to her physical exhaustion, got very annoyed with the dozen texts, missed phone-calls and pokes from Stefan and Damon, to the point where she eluded Elijah, drove over to the Boarding House and told the brothers off for bothering her.

"The best way to keep Elena safe is to do absolutely nothing to dig into the sacrifice," Giulia glowered at them. Stefan had called five times while Elijah was in the middle of seeing to her – orgasms eased physical pains, and Elijah was very dedicated to Giulia's healing process, as he had realised early he couldn't even use her injury and exhaustion and annoyance to his advantage and gain intel on the moonstone's location, and he wanted to get back to the game. "The more people you ask, the more they'll wonder, the faster Klaus learns there's a human doppelgänger ready to have her throat slit."

"Hey, we're going to make sure there's absolutely no chance of that happening," Stefan said fiercely, glancing at Elena, who sat pouting on the daybed. Giulia rolled her eyes. She was pissed off Elijah had been interrupted, leaving her very irritated. It was one thing to be left unsatisfied as part of their game – it was another to be interrupted. The subject-matter of this conversation wasn't doing anything to help, either. It was sweet they'd turned to her as the person most likely to be able to uncover any answers, but it pissed her off they were more worried about Elena than Tyler.

"I'm not going to help you research the sacrifice and draw tons of attention to us," Giulia said baldly. She already knew what she needed to, and was focused on other, more important and pressing matters. "Just leave it alone. You start digging, that's how self-fulfilling prophecies start. And, can I just point out, you're so worried about something that might affect Elena in the future, when a real, legitimate tragedy just happened. Tyler doesn't have long until the full-moon and you're worried about her. He's going to turn into a wolf – every bone in his body is going to break so they can reform from a human to canine form. And he'll feel all of it. So can we focus on that awfulness and not make it all about her for once!"

"What is in those drugs Meredith gave you?" Damon asked, frowning bemusedly at her. "You're usually mellower about your Elena-hate."

"It's not hate; it's disinterest," Giulia said coolly. "I care more about Tyler going through his first transformation than some looming threat over her skinny little neck." She was irritated, they all knew it. Irritable, impatient – her recovery was getting to her, Meredith still hadn't signed her off as healed and it was testing her strength of will not to ask for a drop of Caroline's blood so she could go out and play with the other kids. Her physical healing was affecting her mentally; she was distracted, she couldn't play with her toys, stuck between wanting to do a thousand things and physically incapable of completing them.

"Giulia, you're the only one we could think of who'd be able to find out anything," Stefan said earnestly.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere – next time, remember one text achieves the same as twenty-four," Giulia said irritably. "I'm not going to help you with this, I actually have my priorities straight and for the moment Tyler is it."

"Giulia – Elena was kidnapped."

"And here she is, safe and sound," Giulia rolled her eyes. "So please tone it down. You weren't a fraction as concerned when I disappeared for entire weekends with no contact." Damon pulled a face; he knew that was true.

"If someone finds out about Elena –"

"You're conjecturing," Giulia sighed. "How're people going to find out, hm? You said Elijah killed Trevor and the other one, Rose, fled when Damon killed Elijah. Doubt she's stupid enough to risk her hard-won freedom by revealing she had any involvement with the death of an Original." The brothers glanced at each other.

Clearly they hadn't thought of that.

"How do you know about the Originals?" Elena asked, frowning at her.

"How do I know about anything?" Giulia asked lightly, not looking at her. "Can I go now? I actually have things to do, I'm just lucid enough to work a circular-saw." She left Elena dazed and full of dread, wondering why Giulia needed a circular-saw, and the brothers glanced at each other, sighing. Damon shrugged.

"Do you think she's right?" Stefan asked quietly.

"About Rose?" Damon asked. He hadn't thought of that – the hot vampire Elena had called Rose wouldn't risk being associated with the death of an Original; was she going to tell anyone she had been there when Damon had killed Elijah – over the doppelgänger? "Maybe. I've only ever heard of a handful of people who've even seen an Original – but I know enough to know the Originals don't suffer anyone to get involved in their family politics. The only person who can punish or kill an Original is an Original."

And he knew that, because he was one of that handful of people he knew who'd seen an Original. New Orleans stuck out in his mind, a community of vampires and other supernatural beings all living together – somewhat peacefully – amongst humans, pillars of the community, philanthropists, artists, musicians and nurses, students, teachers, realtors and chefs. Once upon a time, Originals had turned a backwater penal colony into the jewel of the South, the heart of Southern culture, the Big Easy. He'd heard they'd abandoned the city during the Prohibition. He and his arrogant frenemy Kol had had three mutual interests: booze, bad blood between brothers and beautiful women. Kol, he'd preferred witches, he'd even pointed him to Bree a couple decades ago. Whether Kol himself was an Original remained to be seen; for a cocky douche he'd held things close to the vest, but authority had emanated from the psychotic, hedonistic vampire whenever another of their kind crossed paths with him. Vampires didn't enter his bar without an invitation – not due to any threshold, but out of respect, and more than a little dread. Damon had never met another person so mercurial in his emotions, one minute brooding, the next crying with hysterical laughter, the next destructively inconsolable. They'd had fun, tearing through the Quarter together, but even he'd been a little freaked out by what Kol was capable of, things Damon wouldn't even dream in his worst nightmares. Bordered on Ripper!Stefan behaviour, and Damon had never been into that.

Damon only knew that Kol's family dynamic was more warped even than his and Stefan's. That the Originals had fought each other for centuries, and yet when faced by any external threat they immediately worked together to destroy that threat.

Did Damon think Rose would risk someone like Kol tracking her down if she let it be known she had witnessed the death of an Original? Damon wouldn't. Elena had told them she'd been kidnapped for the sole purpose of being passed along to Elijah, a bargaining tool for the freedom of Katerina Petrova's earliest victims. Damon would take that freedom and run with it.

"I wouldn't tell anyone," Damon shrugged. "She got what she wanted, she's free."

"But we killed Elijah," Stefan reminded him. "Does it matter that Elijah pardoned her if he's not around to enforce that to others?"

"Firstly, I killed Elijah," Damon corrected. "Second of all… I don't know! I do know I'd feel more comfortable knowing where Rose is, and who her contact is who snitched on Elena, and whether or not I have to rip their heart out of their chest to make sure they don't tell anyone else." He shrugged. He was sure Rose was long gone – he couldn't imagine being with someone for five centuries, only to have his head bitch-slapped off in front of him. She was probably reeling – if she hadn't turned off her emotions.


Caroline met her at the old stables. Giulia had dragged the tarpaulin off the skeleton of her uncle's vintage teardrop trailer, and tacked blueprints and design sketches to the stable wall, tools and things scattered on the worktop she and Car had cleared off for the purpose. They were making progress, the 'bones' of the teardrop replaced, and improved – planning to road-trip across the US for nearly three-months, storage was of paramount concern, without making the teardrop any bigger or too much heavier. So, clever storage and wardrobe restrictions were of greatest concern. Elijah had made a couple of notes on her design plans, his past as a carpenter and builder and the maker of exquisite jewellery and furniture coming through.

"Are those the plans for the galley?" Caroline asked, setting a baker's box full of fresh, still-hot glazed fritters on the worktop. "You're not already redesigning it, are you? We just installed the cubbies!"

"Mm," Giulia said thoughtfully, frowning at the various plans. She had sketched half a dozen designs, trying to figure out the best, space-saving ways to incorporate the essentials she thought they'd need. They'd be running the mini-oven and twin-burner camping stove on gas; if they found campsites with hook-ups they could use electricity, but she didn't want to make things more complicated with wiring – especially since she was by nature a cryptologist, engineer, historian and cook, not an electrician. And that was dangerous to DIY. Besides, did they really need the teardrop to be fully wired? To encourage them to sit inside and watch TV while they should be out canyoning Utah, horseback-riding Wyoming, hiking Monument Valley?

Caroline's curling-iron would have to make the sacrifice for their epic road-trip.

"That's not Damon's handwriting," Caroline mused, peering closer at the plans as she opened the pink bakery box. "Hey, I brought blueberry fritters. Fresh. And I got a whole wheel of paint-swatches." She beamed, excited, producing a boxed, ring bound, two-inch thick doorstop of paint-swatches.

"The teardrop's sapphire-blue," Giulia frowned. They were going to treat the exterior of the teardrop with the same paint-job as her Beetle. So they matched, of course.

"Yes, but for the inside, I figured paler colours to make it seem larger than it is, and cooler, for you, so it's not a sweatbox," Caroline said, rolling her eyes. "And I think we should put like a foot of padding on one of the walls as a headboard, and cover it with some pretty fabric."

"Yeah, I thought that too," Giulia said softly, eyeing the designs.

"I love the sketch," Caroline said warmly, pointing to the retro-style sketch Giulia had done of the interior of the trailer, the design they had ended up building, with clean lines, softly-curved corners on the cubby doors, a small window in the front and one in the door, and a galley with a square of butcher's block, a mini-oven, a smallish icebox instead of a mini-refrigerator tucked away out of sight, and a tiled-top fold-out section for the twin-burner camping stove on top and clever storage beneath. They had been thinking about what they would need to take with them rather than what they wanted and half the fun of planning things was rewriting old recipes so they could be made with minimal equipment. Nobody could say Giulia and Caroline didn't love a challenge.

She did have plans to test the limits of Caroline's compulsion for free meals, of course.

"Yeah, I do, too," Giulia said thoughtfully, approaching Caroline to share in the spoils from the bakery. "This one's my favourite; I'm trying to rework these two together to mesh all the elements more cohesively because there's things I like from both designs that aren't in the other."

"So, we've decided we're not taking a mini-refrigerator. And we're gonna have an icebox, a mini-oven and a two-burner camping stove, and we'll keep a wash-line for laundry."

"Yup. And I found a mini solar generator we can use to keep things charged, so your mom doesn't have to use her connections to track us down," Giulia said, smiling. "I figured we could each have one large cubby, one little one, a shelf each, and the others for supplies and entertainment, which we need to figure out."

"I like this galley design best," Caroline said, pointing to one design, one of Giulia's favourites. "I'm glad we went with that one. I love that we're saving those old tiles, they're so pretty. Where are we going to put cleaning products? And – is that a mini-bar?" She laughed, glancing at the worktop where Giulia had indeed put together a mini bar – two of everything, vintage, from the antiques her house volunteered up like buried-treasure. Why their family had needed thirteen complete cocktail equipment-sets including muddlers, jigger measures, shakers and strainers, she had no idea, but she'd set aside one set, and two each of beautiful vintage liqueur and martini glasses, setting aside one cupboard in the galley entirely for an 'alcoholic beverage creation-station'.

"Um, it's only the most important thing!" Giulia said, glancing at Caroline, who scoffed, laughing.

"Okay, fair enough," she sighed. "Those teeny glasses are really cute."

"Yeah, and it's all the more fun because we already have enough in the Boarding House to outfit a fleet of teardrop-trailers, so we don't have to waste much expense," Giulia said, and Caroline smiled. She had been watching too much HGTV not to want to upcycle Joshua Salvatore's twin-burner camping stove.

"I can't believe it's done," Caroline said, turning to stare at the teardrop. Their combined industry had cut the renovation time-frame most others went by, by months. To be honest, Giulia had done quite a lot of the actual building, drafting the plans, making all the calculations for cost, making the trips to Home Depot, fitting the frame and plywood, treating the shell with primer and a treating coat to protect the wood from the elements, fitting the tiny fan to keep the trailer from turning into a 'sweatbox' as Caroline said. The interior of the trailer was done, custom-made cubbies painted, mounted and reinforced. They had cheated a little bit, adding two four-drawer Ikea 'Moppe' mini chest-of-drawers for their little things, and the larger six-drawer one for the galley. The secret storage compartments beneath the floor were fitted – one was a drawer that pulled out all the way through the open door, the others were compartmentalised bins with lift-up hinged doors – and the walls were smoothed and primed for painting after Giulia had fitted the 'window-frame'.

Caroline had already set aside spare bedding, a huge 'road trip kit' in a folding toiletries bag, the tiny Bluetooth speaker she had won at a raffle last year, even a mini cork memo-board for them to pin things to, on the one wall that didn't have a window, door or cubbies, and a vase for flowers to put on the tiny folding Ikea table they had managed to arrange into the underfloor storage, which they planned to use as extra kitchen space and a dining-table.

"I know. We just have to paint it, now," Giulia said softly. It was odd, time seemed to have flown by – she and Caroline had been working on the teardrop on and off for weeks, but Caroline was strong and Giulia, she was intuitive about engineering and architecture. They were both creative, in tune with each other: They truly made an amazing team.

"I was thinking the outside, we could do the lower-half sapphire-blue like your Beetle, and the top-half white," Caroline mused, "so it the roof deflects heat. And the inside, I like this real subtle pale-blue."

"It looks like it has some lavender to it," Giulia said softly.

"Yeah. It's pretty," Caroline said, giving her a sidelong look. She knew why Caroline had picked that colour. It was almost the same hue as Giulia's dad's favourite lilac tree, more lavender-blue than pinkish-purple, pale and delicate.

"It's like Dad's lilac," Giulia said quietly, taking the colour swatch-wheel from Caroline, noticing she had written a little X in pencil on the colour she preferred.

"Yeah," Caroline sighed. "And I thought a soft buttermilk cream for the cubbies and the trim, and the galley. We can paint that now before we install the butcher's block and tile. But stain the top shelf in the galley a little darker to add some contrast."

"You've been watching HGTV again, haven't you," Giulia sighed, sipping her coffee. She shook her head at Caroline's jaunty smile. "Okay, well…we can head over to Home Depot before it closes, get the paint. And some grouting."

"Sounds like fun!" Caroline grimaced. She had loved every part of the project except for traipsing down the aisles of Home Depot: Giulia usually lost her in the paint and pretty wallpaper section and just filled the cart herself using the meticulous lists Caroline kept. This time, they separated, Giulia going for grouting so she could tile the fold-out section of the galley, and she met Caroline where one of the staff was mixing the paints they had decided on. They had already primed everything as soon as Giulia had fitted it. They left Home Depot with grouting, and tins of 'Blue Gossamer' and 'Warm White' and Caroline had insisted on a half-dozen sample-size pots of paints from buttery yellows, soft sage-greens and lilac-purples to complement the antique tiles Giulia had rescued from an original fireplace found in the attic, ripped out during renovations earlier in the century. She wanted to paint the 'Moppe' drawers in the galley. Giulia indulged her, with barely an eye-roll.

They got back to the Boarding House while it was still light, bearing Chinese takeout and Jamba Juice, and Giulia retrieved Stefan's record-player from upstairs with a few dozen vinyl records, and they listened while they set to work painting – inside first, then they'd finish the exterior. They had saved themselves some awkwardness by treating and painting the hidden-storage under the floor, and had painted the hinged doors themselves before Giulia had installed them; Caroline climbed inside and finished painting the floor, and got started painting the walls. 'Blue Gossamer' for the walls, 'Warm White' for the cubbies, the window-frame and the inside of the door. Humming along to the Rolling Stones on vintage vinyl, Giulia worked on the fold-out compartment she had yet to install with the heavier-duty bracket and hinges. She had treated the cabinet, even the top, and had taped and prepared it for tiling – she had calculated how tall the compartment could be and still tuck it into the galley with the twin-burner stove, lid on, on top. With the last of the dying light, before Caroline turned on the huge outdoor lamps Giulia's dad had kept in the stables, Giulia tiled the cabinet, careful of the narrow wood trim. She got started on painting the galley – 'Warm White', with the buttery-yellow for the 'backsplash' – and Caroline gave a happy cry as she finished painting the last little 'Moppe' cubby, leaving them to dry on the worktop.

"That's me done!" Caroline grinned, bouncing over. "And just in time – I have to be home in a half-hour, so I should get going soon. Hey, those tiles look amazing! Do you need a ride anywhere, or are you staying the night?"

"No, I have my car," Giulia said softly. "I won't sleep over; I just want to finish this."

"Okay. Just don't let them bully you," Caroline ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Giulia said softly. If Stefan being passive-aggressive about Giulia not wanting to help, and Damon being irreverent and drunk was bullying, then yes, the brothers were bullying her, but Giulia just let Stefan's bitching wash over her, too used to his Elena-longing and self-righteousness to care, and she was used to Damon's moods. She'd make him a Lemon Drop and he'd be over it – she'd certainly given him no real reason to be angry at her so she had to chalk his mood up to realising he had more self-respect than to be pining over a vanilla replica of the ex-girlfriend he had since learned to hate.

"And – please don't take any more of those painkillers until you're home," Caroline ordered. "And no saws."

"Fine," Giulia grumbled. She was actually disappointed they didn't need to use the hardware and tools anymore – they had blitzed through the frame and plywood in a weekend, with cupcakes and Jamba Juice and music, Caroline's Katy Perry playlist contrasting the spine-tingling buzz of the handheld jigsaw. The best part of the project was that they were doing it together. If the whole thing collapsed the first night they slept in the teardrop, at least they'd had fun building it.


Perhaps it wasn't a long time after Caroline left, or maybe time just slipped away, but either way the dying sun had bled a rich orangey light everywhere, gilding everything, drying the paint, and the grouting. Giulia put the cubbies back into their frames – the white ones inside the trailer, and the yellow, green and lilac ones in the galley – that Caroline had painted. She double-checked the grouting was dry before she worked on attaching the cabinet to the bracket, screwing the twin-burner stove on from underneath, and was taping the outside of the trailer – a pattern she and Caroline had agreed on – to paint the first coat of white over the primer, when she felt a tingle shiver up and down her back.

"Caroline?" she asked, suddenly hyper-aware that it was dark beyond the circle of light from her dad's old utility lights. Immediately taking mental-stock, she calculated the nearest weapon – the handheld jigsaw – to be a good five feet away, while her lap-timer supernatural-dropper was tucked in her backpack under the workbench. All she had on her was a damn paintbrush – it had a wooden handle, at the very least. That'll do, she thought.

It was very dark – and very quiet. Only the crickets chirped in the woods, alive in the night with sounds she had grown up listening to, eating dinner with her dad on the veranda on lingering summer evenings. She couldn't see a thing through the darkness, her dad's lights so brilliant. They shed a halo around the teardrop, sending obscure shadows across the floor.

Boots appeared first. Dark jeans, neat and encasing curvy hips, the sparkle of light off sporadic sequins on a delicate gauzy neckerchief draped around the slender throat of a very pretty lady with short, spiky hair. Perfectly almond-shaped hazel eyes glowed in the light, and Giulia knew who she was immediately.

"Rose," she said thoughtfully.

"I hoped I wouldn't spook you," she said, her English accent delightful to the ear. She gave Giulia a half-smile. "Slater tells me you're a bit of a bad-arse."

"He's sweet," Giulia said honestly. Slater was a sweet guy – awful taste in women, but that was pretty much a universal failing of the male species. All except Elijah, of course. She sighed softly, setting her paintbrush down. "Why are you here?"

"My friend Lexi once told me Stefan Salvatore is one of the good ones," Rose said sadly.

"You know Lexi?" Giulia raised her eyebrows. If Rose, who had kidnapped Elena, knew Lexi…that was interesting. She had to believe Lexi didn't trouble herself with people she didn't trust, or admire.

"We share the same rare privilege of being some of the few personally turned by Elijah Mikaelson," Rose said sadly. "Of the three Salvatores, Slater told me, and this is his phrasing, not mine, the tits are more likely not to rip my heart out of my chest if I showed my face in Mystic Falls."

"Well, I am the tits – if we all went around saying we were the dark, gorgeous Salvatore things would get confusing," Giulia said, and Rose chuckled softly. She approached the teardrop, looking mildly curious.

"Teardrop… I had one of these in the Thirties," Rose murmured. She heaved a sigh. Giulia didn't press; she had learned that just remaining silent prompted a lot of people to start talking. A particular stare she had worked, too. Rose turned to her, looking strangely vulnerable. "And I don't want to run anymore because I don't have anywhere else to run to."

"You have everywhere," Giulia said quietly, but she glanced at the teardrop as Rose tested whether the paint was dried.

"If Elijah was still alive I could put more faith in my freedom," Rose said quietly after a few moments of contemplative silence. "But Damon Salvatore killed him – social-media is instantaneous but even Elijah didn't have the time to Tweet about my freedom before he was impaled." She sighed. "Besides Slater I'm the only one who knows about the doppelgänger… Katerina wasn't always a monster but she was never forthright like this young one."

"Elena," Giulia said softly.

"Pardon?"

"The 'young one's' name; it's Elena," Giulia said quietly. Rose gave her an apologetic smile.

"Elena, then. She seems…stronger than Katerina was. Less…"

"Manipulative?" Giulia offered, and Rose gave her another smile. "She's just more subtle about it." Damon had been put off Elena by her manipulation of him – at least with her he'd recognised it, too…worldly not to know what she was doing. He wasn't the innocent young soldier anymore. "Why did you come here?"

"I've never wanted much out of life," Rose said softly. "Over the centuries all I've ever believed in was friendship, and loyalty. Trevor was my best-friend. For five-hundred years I have lived with one person. And he's gone."

Giulia didn't quite think I'm sorry would be quite adequate, so she said nothing.

Glancing at the teardrop, she could imagine smashing it to pieces if anything ever happened to Caroline. Would she want to travel the world without her best-friend, her sister? The one person left on this earth she was absolutely, whole-heartedly sure she loved.

How was Rose even still standing.

Rose sniffed. "Slater and I are the only ones who know about your friend, but more will find out about her. She's on the Internet, and there are some old ones who remember, who escaped Klaus' purge," Rose said quietly. "They know her face. And they'll come for her… When they do, perhaps another vampire to keeping her safe could make all the difference."

Giulia blinked. "You can go anywhere, do anything… Why would you want to risk staying here?" Rose just gave her a sad smile. "I don't… I don't think it's a good idea you stay. The more people who come to town and learn about Elena, the greater the risk Klaus will find out."

"The chances of Klaus not finding out about Elena are slim at best," Rose said, looking grim. "I managed to contact Elijah through a very long chain of acquaintances – most likely, one of those is also an informer to Klaus. He knows." The simple way she said it, so accepting, as if it was a simple, indisputable truth, like clouds produced rain, and Giulia's stomach dipped.

She had been making contingencies for Klaus being informed of Elena's existence – Elijah had spotted her on Facebook, for heaven's sake! – but she and Elijah usually avoided discussing his nastiest sibling. They were playing the game – not just sexually, they were outmanoeuvring each other for the moonstone, for information, for contacts – for Elena herself, and the right to organise the sacrifice on their terms rather than another's. Since Elijah had discovered Elena believed Giulia had the moonstone – one point for observation for the doppelgänger – the game had ramped up a few levels. They didn't discuss their tactics, and Elijah had, for the moment, only until she healed, put a halt on sexually tormenting her for the upper-hand in their little game; she refused to give up the moonstone, and would continue to do so, no matter how many naughty things he did or intriguing toys he produced or how frustrated he left her…

There were worse things to endure.

Like watching one's best-friend be decapitated before one's eyes.

She swallowed, glancing at Rose. Elijah had bitch-slapped a five-hundred-year-old vampire's head off. Spicy Viking Totty he was – but he was also a thousand-year-old vampire engaged in a centuries-long civil-war against his brother – a bitter tug-of-war that reminded her too much of Stefan and Damon's hellacious on-and-off relationship rollercoaster. He was a warlord, a Viking – a warrior honed over hundreds of years. He had survived a brutal upbringing by becoming brutal himself. Merciless, unforgiving of deceit, violent with purpose.

It was easy to forget Elijah was that Viking he hid beneath his expensive Italian-cut suits. That vampire.

"I'm sorry about Trevor," Giulia finally said.

"It was always a possibility," Rose said offhandedly, as if she wasn't completely devastated. Looking at her, Giulia wondered if Rose proved her theory – that there was no such thing as an 'Off' switch.

"Still… I'm sorry," she repeated. Rose glanced at her, then back at the wall where her sketches were still pinned up.

"You built this yourself?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the teardrop.

"My best-friend Caroline and I built it…together," Giulia said quietly. She saw Rose smile gently.

"When things were wonderful, we used to call them our adventures," she said, her voice thick. She sniffed, turning to Giulia with a warm smile. "So you're embarking on your first adventures?" Giulia nodded. "Where do you plan to go?"

"Everywhere," Giulia said, her heart lifting as Rose smiled. "Across the U.S. this summer before I…go to school."

"There's nothing quite like it, travelling the world with your best-friend," Rose said softly. "I hope you and your friend have a lot of adventures."

"Caroline will have more than me," Giulia said, without a hint of jealousy. She couldn't be jealous of Caroline for being a vampire. Caroline had an eternity to shower other people with her light, to be that huge boost, that positive, caring influence, that best-friend, long after Giulia would be gone. And that filled Giulia with something…almost as if she'd had a kid, and knew some kind of a legacy would survive her. She had nothing to do with Caroline's…Caroline-ness, but she liked to think Caroline would remember her long after she was gone, and try to fill some other future Giulia's life with that same goodness and love.

"Well, then… Savour every minute," Rose said sadly. "Take every opportunity…"

"Are you sure you'd rather stay here than…do just about anything else?" Giulia asked. "Mystic Falls isn't exactly New York…not even Richmond!"

"I don't mind the countryside," Rose smiled nostalgically. "The quiet."

The simplest and smartest solution would have been to send Rose on her way. She would only add fat to the fire now burning under the brothers' asses, pushing them to find answers and save the world. But there was some benefit to Rose's staying in town as a third bodyguard, and a decency in offering her a home. Small kindnesses were never forgotten, and even if Damon and Stefan kicked her out, she might remember Giulia at least had agreed to give her room and board.

"I make no promises for how Stefan and Damon will react to you being here," Giulia said, though she could bet Damon would eye Rose up and smirk, and Stefan would brood that Elena's kidnapper had dared set foot in their home.

Well, Giulia still owned the place, and she liked to think she had better judgement than, say, two brothers who had been ready to let history repeat itself over a frail little 'wafer' – a vanilla waif, a term Giulia had come up with whilst driving over this morning, thoroughly pissed off at having to get dressed while Elijah relaxed back against the pillows, laughing richly as she swore under her breath, grumbling several dozen ideas for Stefan and Elena's brutal and gruesome ends.

"I know," Rose said, shrugging slightly. "All I'm asking for is the chance to make amends."

"Hey, no skin off my nose," Giulia shrugged, and indicated Rose to follow her. She packed up, leaving the trailer uncovered so it could dry fully, turned off the lights and picked her flashlight out of her backpack, leading the way back to the house. "I hear you like books."

"I do," Rose said uncertainly, as Giulia invited her over the threshold, into the breakfast-room through the conservatory.

"Careful over here," Giulia said, indicating one particular workbench loaded with familiar purple plants. Not lavender, but too similar for the uneducated to see any difference. Rose eyed the vervain with a bemused expression, and followed Giulia into the house. Rose was five-hundred years old, had been turned in England most likely during the reign of King Henry VII, who had won the crown and ensured a dynasty would continue with his son, the notorious Henry VIII, father to Bloody Mary and the Virgin Queen. Surely Rose could appreciate the neo-Tudor architecture, the moody romanticism and haunted quality of the modestly-named Boarding House. It was known also as 'the creepiest house in Mystic Falls'. But the great room was still grand but much more spacious since she and Damon had started removing unnecessary pieces of furniture, and the library housed an incredibly fine collection, meticulously curated over decades.

"So this…is the library," Giulia said, gesturing around. The fire crackled despite the day's heat – more for its moody, dramatic ambiance than warmth, the only residents cold-blooded.

"Wow," Rose breathed, shaking her head in wonder.

"It's a bit too…Wuthering Heights for my taste," Giulia admitted. She had grown up in this haunted mansion, would always love the room Damon had decorated for her when she became a 'woman' but the exquisite architectural delight by the lake, that was fast becoming her home. Hers. She wasn't just a caretaker – she wasn't the Earl of Grantham, merely a custodian, tending to it for every future generation and out of respect for the sacrifice of previous ones. To be honest, she didn't want to live where she was ignored, not appreciated, and unhappy. "The library's really the only room I ever loved." And she couldn't transplant the books to a new home, it would be like a violation.

"What are you doing here?" a voice asked. Stefan.

"Stefan…this is Rose. I don't think you two had the opportunity to introduce yourselves," Giulia said mildly. The tension radiating from Stefan was so thick a hatchet wouldn't do to break it. Damon traipsed in, going straight for the bar. He poured himself some bourbon, and seemed to sense Stefan's glare, because he looked up and glanced over at them. He gave a thoughtful little frown, pointing a finger at Rose, the crystal tumbler glinting in the firelight.

"I remember you. Rose, isn't it. Ancient. 'Fraidy-cat. Kidnap-happy," he said snarkily.

"Rose is here to make all your dreams come true," Giulia said. "A most fortuitous turn of events, for you; Rose wants to do all that I refuse – she wants to devote her existence to saving Elena." She glanced at Rose, patted her on the arm a couple times, and said, "Enjoy."

"That's it?" Rose raised her eyebrows, looking incredulous. Giulia shrugged, going to pick out her copy of Lady Chatterly's Lover from the shelf.

"I got you through the door," Giulia said, smiling. "The rest is up to you." She glanced over her shoulder at the archway to the corridor, giving Damon a stern look. "Just don't murder her in front of the books – they know."


A.N.: Because books have feelings too. I like Rose. I think she should've been given a better chance. If you think about it, her life was awful. Five-hundred years without enjoying a glass of Pimm's on a sunny day?