A.N.: Just finished watching The Originals. I have two thoughts: They're ASLEEP?! And also, they're counting on Hayley to save them? Doomed.

I've just been re-watching Grimm – now there is a show that knows how to write superwitch-babies and emotional/supernatural turmoil! I would highly recommend it.


Dangerous Beauty

34

No Negotiation


Caroline made her sit down and drink something fruity for an instant hit of vitamins. Giulia, hands shaking and feeling sweaty and clammy, wanted to lie down and fall asleep; but she'd come out, to the mall in Grove Hill, for some much-needed bonding and retail-therapy. With everything they all had going on, it was moments like this that they needed to steal whenever they could; normal, teenage moments. Like the upcoming Classic that Giulia was still in line to join Caroline and the rest of the squad at. The Sixties dance. Picking over every detail of Caroline's on-and-off relationship with Matt, now warming again despite the raging jealousy and insecurity Caroline had laid on to distance Matt from her, protecting him.

And though she knew it was good for them – for the both of them, and for their friendship – to spend time doing normal things outside of Mystic Falls, no distractions – Giulia tried, but her heart wasn't in it. She tried to be enthusiastic for Caroline's sake as she helped pick out the perfect little Jackie O gloves for her costume for the Sixties dance, but over the course of the day she had just felt worse and worse. Her shoulder throbbed as if it were still broken, itching and almost heavy, the pressure of it weighing on her.

She had stormed from the Boarding House, fully-healed and angry, and given everything she had considered just holing up in her house until the blood left her system. She didn't want to risk a car-accident turning her into a vampire.

She didn't think she'd handle it quite as well as Caroline.

And now she felt…sick. Like she had the flu, with the added inconvenience of her throbbing shoulder, her neck itching and burning, she had to almost sit on her hands to stop herself scratching, but when light spots flickered in her eyes, her vision blurring, dizziness and nausea churning through her, she had to sit down in the food-court with her head between her knees while Caroline bought her a fresh orange-juice. Her many bags, some shiny, some cute little card boutique-bags tied with ribbons, swung from her arms as she bounced back over, her face a picture of worry, and Giulia sipped the drink slowly.

The only time she'd ever felt bad like this was a particularly memorable day while she was on her period, not even the heaviest day in her cycle, but her dad had had to come pick her up from school because in front of her Biology teacher's eyes she had gone white as a sheet, clammy, shadows had appeared under her eyes, and she had nearly fainted out of her desk; she had added more iron to her diet and had been fine ever since. But it was that kind of delirious feeling, shaky with a cold-sweat, dizzy, that she forever associated with a lack of control, and she could remember her dad tucking her into bed on her side with a blanket, taking up residence in the armchair in her room as the only thing he could do, the idea of her menstrual cycle too much for her widowed Marine father to handle comfortably. But he'd sat with her. He'd been there.

The orange-juice did her good, gave her that instant boost; they got Caroline's outfit ready and Giulia indulged in some chic new stationery and a pair of subtle, edgy black-drusy snake studs, and she managed to coerce Caroline just to drop her off at her house. Caroline didn't ask to come into the house, and Giulia had never invited her in. Briefly, she reflected on how deeply Caroline would think it a betrayal of their friendship that Giulia had never let her into her house, but she was living with Elijah.

She pulled on her pyjamas and curled up under the covers, wishing Elijah had been home. He was off hatching up some nefarious plan to get close to the Founders; it was fun to imagine him schmoozing a smitten Carol.

Giulia looked awful when he returned home of find her curled up under the covers – something she never did. He had rarely seen her while away the hours in bed. Her heartbeat sounded like a hummingbird's, so fast was it thrumming; she was pale as death and covered in sweat, clammy, and shivering violently. Her eyes were closed, and she had been drawn into a deep sleep, but her eyes darted beneath her eyelids, restless. He frowned, raising a hand to her forehead; she was burning up. And her fingernails on her left hand were bloody – he frowned, and found the source, a nasty-looking rash on her right shoulder. She had obviously been scratching at it in her sleep.

It had been a long time since he studied medicine the first time, but most recently he had studied his way to being a doctor specialising in obstetrics. Some would say he was psychologically stuck, the specialty with obstetrics stemming from his helplessness, his inability to save Torvi from dying during a complicated childbirth. He was scarred from her loss, the child's death; Lucrezia had taught him enough that nearly every possibility was covered when she finally went into labour. And…part of him had thought that if he was ever in the situation with Torvi again – watching a mother slowly, agonisingly die, and the child within her too – he would know what to do. Could alter the outcome. Because he could never go back and save her life, or the dead child's he had never named.

All of that complicated medical terminology, that brutal seven years of study, rushed to the fore, but it was the general nursing, the everyday care, that he needed now; he had been given awards at the hospital, for his bedside manner, for his care of the patients, going above and beyond not just to keep them healthy, but to make them comfortable, unafraid, happy in a place where all those things were taken for granted. He missed his career as a doctor of obstetrics; he missed the feeling of tangibly making an everyday difference to people's lives. But it had become too much, trying to take care of everyone – patients and, sometimes more importantly, the staff charged with their care, pushed to their limits – and with a tiny Ashlyn at home, he hadn't wanted to miss out. But he had never lost his bedside manner – Ashlyn used to love feigning illness because it meant she was spoiled with his presence.

It was alarming, though, seeing Giulia like this. He flinched, a visceral reaction to her obvious pain. He wondered how she had succumbed to whatever illness it was – influenza smelled different. Her scent had changed, ever so slightly, richer, but with an edge. He gently rolled her to her back, draping a cold washcloth over her forehead, and patted another against the rash on her shoulder, frowning in concern. The only thing it reminded him of, it couldn't possibly be. She was no vampire. He taped a gauze bandage over the rash, in the hopes of preventing her from irritating the skin further, and tucked Giulia in. If she worsened he might take her to the hospital, but he knew she wouldn't thank him for fussing – or outing them. That Jenna Somers knew was enough.

He was quite glad Jenna did know.

Elijah sank onto the bed, shoulders heavy as he watched Giulia fret in her sleep. All of a sudden, she woke, delirious, glancing around unseeingly, confused; her expression broke his heart. He knew that feeling.

"Where were you?" he asked, and she jumped, glazed eyes darting to his face. She sighed, collapsing against the mattress, raising a shaking hand to her closed eyes, her lips trembling.

"The cellar," she whispered hoarsely. He sighed, pulling off his shoes and belt, climbing in beside her, tucking her close. Falling asleep against him, her silent, unconscious tears leaked onto his shirt; he didn't mind. He stayed with her until she fell asleep, drawn deeply into her slumber.

He was downstairs preparing a meal for Giulia to eat when she woke when the coppery tang hit his tongue. The lamb-shanks he had set to slow-roast with garlic, rosemary and red wine weren't bloody – he turned off the stove and sped upstairs, lips parting in surprise and dread. Blood blossomed across Giulia's pillowcase, soaked through the bandage he had applied; she looked cold and still as death, but her heart beat, slowly, each thud strong in his ears. Surprised by his own hesitancy, he turned her over, removing the bandage, and swallowed.

His first thought had been correct; but how could it be? Pressing a dark towel to Giulia's shoulder, he pulled her phone out of her bag. Of course it had run out of battery – he plugged it into the wall, and breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't changed her password since he had last memorised it, seeking only one phone-number in all her contacts.

"Sheila Bennett? I am Elijah," he said softly. "Giulia needs your help."

"What've you done to her?"

"Nothing, you have my word," Elijah said, pressing down on the towel. He could smell the blood seeping into it, warm, going cold quickly. He swallowed with difficulty, Giulia's blood soaked across the pillow-case and sheets. As Sheila Bennett made her way over to the house, he plucked the sheet off, and the pillowcase, shoving the pillow into the sink in the laundry-room to soak it before he put it in the washing-machine.

The kooky lady Giulia loved and respected crossed the threshold without invitation, hurrying upstairs. She took one look at Giulia, and Elijah standing over her pressing the towel to her shoulder, and frowned, sighing.

"Alright, what've we got here?" she asked, and Elijah grimaced as he peeled the towel away.

"This…I have only ever seen infection like this on vampires – from a werewolf-bite," Elijah said gently, glancing at Professor Bennett. She sighed heavily, clucking her tongue.

"Alright, lemme at her," she said, gesturing him out of the way. Elijah couldn't help but hover, anxious; he watched Sheila Bennett clasp Giulia's hand, eyeing the infected wound interestedly. She closed her eyes, and whatever magic she was doing, it was so understated he felt nothing; the most powerful magic was the most subtle. A frown drew Professor Bennett's features in, looking almost confused. "You got an empty bottle or somethin'?"

"Yes," Elijah nodded, disappearing downstairs to raid the pantry for the sterile bottles Giulia had bought in bulk for making her own cordials and liqueurs. He handed one to Miss Sheila, who closed her eyes, humming something – but she stopped, panting. She didn't have the strength. Healing spells were tricky and required power at the best of times; she was fighting a supernatural infection. "Here," he said, offering his hand. "Draw from me."

She eyed his hand thoughtfully for a moment, then took it. Her neat eyebrows rose in surprise, and she turned to Giulia, humming again. He watched in surprise, feeling the gentle tug of Sheila drawing on him for power, as yellowish venom – he could smell the poison in the air – drifted from the open wound at Giulia's shoulder into the open bottle in his other hand. She frowned again, and he wondered what she felt. Witches' instincts were uncanny.

Giulia gave a sigh of relief, her entire body relaxing. He watched the wound to her shoulder heal itself, leaving smooth, unmarked flesh. The scent of copper was still rich on the air from the towel he had dumped in the bathtub, but agonising death no longer emanated from Giulia; she smelled warm and healthy, the scent was rich, heady, with that natural perfume unique to Giulia alone. He had always noted her scent, not vampire, not quite only human. There was something to her, but her personality had long ago become more important to him than his curiosity about that scent. He was used to it; that scent was Giulia. If it meant anything to him, it meant her. He didn't care about anything else.

But Professor Bennett looked grim. She arranged Giulia's hand on her stomach after releasing his, capping the bottle of werewolf venom.

"Someone fed her vampire blood," she said softly, glancing at Elijah with a hint of accusation. "Full-moon was two nights ago; I'm guessing she was bit." Wolves. He knew a small pack had moved into the woods, their stinking RV and old tents clustered around an illegal campfire. He had scented vervain and vampire-blood in the back of that RV, knew there were only eight of them, including their alpha-female Jules and a younger girl who seemed to be there only for one reason. He regretted the pack had arrived in town, especially with the motives he had overheard them discussing; at least there weren't any decent people amongst them. He wouldn't regret dispatching them.

They should have listened to Tyler Lockwood when he'd told Jules to leave town.

Now they threatened his plans. One had attacked Giulia. This would not do.

Who had healed her? Where had she been bitten? He could imagine her taking the attack in place of her Caroline… It was the first time he had ever seen a human react to werewolf venom – he thought perhaps the vampire-blood used to heal her had triggered the activation of the venom.

He allowed Professor Bennett to take the werewolf venom – it would not kill him, after all. It was more an inconvenience.

Professor Bennett sighed heavily, stroking the damp hair from Giulia's forehead. "Someone has some questions to answer to, sugar," she said quietly. Elijah glanced at her, itching to ask but not wanting to put her on the spot, especially about something she obviously knew about Giulia that Giulia didn't.

He thanked Professor Bennett, who looked at him with something strange in her eyes, but she slipped into her car and drove off, and he closed the door on the end of the day. Upstairs Giulia slept soundly, and he tended to the mess, changing the sheets around her, checking on her dinner simmering slowly in the oven. He poured himself a finger of bourbon and sat at the piano, playing ruminatively.

She drifted downstairs, showered and dressed, as he was scribbling notes on his composition, replaying movements thoughtfully. He was no Mozart, but who was; and he enjoyed the music he created. She knew as well as he did that creating beautiful things was his coping-mechanism when things weren't going well – on a small-scale, he worked on jewellery, furniture; on a grander scale, he had created the community in New York, ensuring others never remained as lonely as he was then.

Elijah no longer felt lonely when he was with Giulia. He felt…young. Excited. They were perfectly bonded. She entranced him; made him question himself, pushed him. In moments when he allowed himself to, he envisioned what the next few hundred years would be like, with Giulia by his side, rediscovering the world in this age, and through her eyes. The prospect wasn't exhausting. He imagined what she'd get him doing, and smiled to himself. It was exciting.

But those thoughts were as dangerous as they were joyous to him. He would never turn her. Others he had turned because he cared about them, or appreciated what they had to contribute; he loved Giulia too much to turn her. Truly he should have let her go months ago, knowing what he did about Niklaus' methods. Giulia had had a target on her back since Elijah had shown any preference toward her. Whether only Jenna Somers and now Sheila Bennett knew or not, somehow Klaus would discover Elijah's lover. It had happened far too many times before, and Elijah had thought he knew better; but…Giulia had refused to let him balk, and now Elijah refused to give her up.

Perhaps he was deluding himself, that finally, she was clever enough, devious enough, courageous and Machiavellian herself, to outwit his brother. And outlive her love for him.

Niklaus had much to answer for – even before Elijah had learned the truth carved into the walls by his neighbours a thousand years ago. A devastating but not wholly unsurprising truth that altered everything, the very fabric their family had been woven from.

The long list of his and his siblings' lovers Niklaus had tormented, tortured and executed brutally over the centuries was just a chapter in the book documenting his most evil atrocities. Elijah was anxious that Giulia would not end on that list. But he knew it was a possibility; and he hated himself for being so selfish. He would not give her up, even though he knew the danger it placed her in.

But Giulia was not the type to blindly cast off his worries, underestimate the danger she was in. She had been drawn into his mind and experienced the very earliest tragedies of his family's history, discovered the truth on those cave walls, knew the fates of his lovers and friends throughout history, and…was annoyed more than frightened of Klaus' retribution. She refused to let Elijah give her up; and she would not give in to fear of his brother. She anticipated it; and preparation was power.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, smiling as Giulia lifted her nose, scenting the air. He had become rather desensitised to the scent of the lamb slow-roasting in the oven, but he rose from the piano-stool and strode over to her, taking her face in her hands. She looked healthy, but miserable. "You look awful."

"I feel okay," she said sadly. "You didn't leave anything on the floor, did you? Potato peelings, pots and pans? It would be utterly mortifying I snapped my neck slipping on a banana-skin and came back as a vampire."

"Who gave you the blood?" Elijah asked quietly.

"Damon." The way she said his name, the look on her face, said it all. Giulia didn't believe in using vampire-blood to heal; she thought it would destroy her respect for her own mortality. And that was the only thing that kept her honed, kept her sharp, made her thing fourteen steps ahead.

"Shall I swaddle you in eiderdown?" Elijah smiled, leaning in for a kiss. "Keep you tucked away safe from harm." Giulia wrapped her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his shoulder as he enveloped her in his arms, just gently holding each other. It was the warmest, most relaxed embrace Giulia had ever given him, and Elijah lost himself in it.

"Thank you for being here," Giulia murmured. He squeezed her tighter, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"Of course," he sighed.

"Did you call Sheila here?"

"I did. I thought you would not trust Dr Martin not to steal information from you even as he helped you," Elijah said.

"He could try," Giulia smiled tiredly into his shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For thinking of that," Giulia said.

"Professor Bennett said something curious when she healed you," Elijah said; he didn't think she'd have heard. "That someone has some questions to answer to, about you."

"Witches," Giulia sighed. "Too intuitive for their own good."

"Mm. What do you think she meant?" Elijah asked. Giulia sighed, but didn't answer for a long while.

"She may be alluding to a reason why I reacted to the Gilbert device spelled to incapacitate supernatural beings," Giulia said. Elijah frowned. "A spelled object. Tyler was hurt by it, too, before he triggered the curse. A spell of that magnitude targeted even latent supernatural genes." She withdrew from their embrace, tucking her hair out of her face. Elijah frowned at her, mind racing. She had been affected by the very familiar spell witches used to drop supernatural enemies, giving them repeated aneurysms? How? Her scent was richer than most normal humans, but that did not automatically make her supernatural.

"You don't think perhaps…?"

"What?" Giulia prompted. Elijah gazed at her.

"You do not think possibly there is a connection between you and the Lockwood family?" he asked.

"The Salvatore and Lockwood families never intermarried," Giulia said, arching an eyebrow. "And I was conceived in Italy. So, no, unless there is some disgusting family-history I do not want to know about, I don't believe I have any supernatural genes. And surely killing my mother would have triggered the curse."

"Your mother dying in childbirth would not trigger the curse," Elijah sighed. "Death in childbirth is natural, as tragic as it is. The curse punishes murderers, and those too negligent to prevent loss of life."

"Well, that's a relief," Giulia mumbled.

"I wonder who Sheila Bennett meant owed you answers," Elijah said thoughtfully.

"And about what?" Giulia shrugged disinterestedly. "Probably Damon; he was the only one around when I was little. Anyway, I don't care. Some things, we're better off not knowing." Elijah grunted a soft response, dwelling on some uncomfortable truths he rather did feel he was better knowing; but the trouble it would create, he could see how some of his siblings – Rebekah – might wish not to know. The truth was uncomfortable to absorb at the best of times; and this truth undid a thousand years of ingrained acceptance. It would give them all the leverage they needed to shed the great weight of his burden – of all of them, Elijah had been daggered least by Niklaus, only once, in a thousand years – he had endured the most time with Niklaus. Even Rebekah had not lasted – fifty-two years in the Nineteenth Century; she had seen only twenty-two years of the Twentieth. She had been daggered as many as forty times by Niklaus, for varying durations – a day, a decade, a fortnight. She had never truly recovered from Marcellus' betrayal – he had chosen eternity over her, allowed Niklaus to keep her daggered for half a century.

"I understand," he said softly. It was strange, though, Giulia's disinterest in her own mystery. She loved knowledge. Puzzles; answers. Intrigue. Collecting the subtlest hints and clues. She enjoyed the thrill of the game. And he didn't care; Giulia was Giulia. What she was didn't matter to him; who she was had everything to do with how completely and irrevocably in love with her he was. "Are you hungry?"

"Always," Giulia smiled. He turned the stove on, and they enveloped themselves on the sofa for a little while, quiet and relaxed, Elijah sipping his bourbon.

"What were you doing when you were attacked?" he asked, frowning.

"I was at the Boarding House," Giulia murmured, slowly looking through his sketchbook. "Working on the food for the anniversary dinner."

"Mm. I'd like to see all this food," Elijah said interestedly. He knew Giulia had been working on the food for a recreation dinner for months, that the Historic Society he was trying to infiltrate for information was annoyed that more guests hadn't been invited; they felt it was elitist, only the topmost echelon of Mystic Falls society invited. Considering a high-school student had come up with the project and put in all the work for it, Elijah had pointed out she had every right to dictate the guest-list she wished to share this with. As Giulia had said, one Montague and one Capulet was enough, she didn't want her dinner ruined by the kinds of people who were complaining about not being on the elite guest-list.

"Well, there's a ton of it," Giulia sighed. "I've been testing the recipes and the moulds to make sure there aren't any nasty surprises. I almost drowned in gelatine."

"Be glad you were cooking Victorian food, not medieval," Elijah chuckled. "Gelatine would be the last of your worries." Giulia smiled, and let him untangle himself from the sofa to finish preparing their meal. She strolled over, rubbing her face and moaning.

"I can't believe I lost my entire weekend," she sighed, shaking her head.

"It can still be salvaged," Elijah smiled warmly, preparing the last of the dinner and plating up. He playfully slapped at Giulia's fingers as she went to steal a roasted onion dripping in the red-wine gravy the lamb-shanks had been slowly roasting in. He had a sweet-tooth that could outrival Augustus Gloop's – she lived for savoury dishes.

They enjoyed their evening together, and Elijah put it out of his mind what Professor Bennett had said about Giulia being owed answers. It was always dubious when a witch said something cryptic like that, there were usually two ways people handled the unknown: investigated to the point of madness; or ignored it completely.

Elijah knew only too well the effects of werewolf venom. For whatever reason, Giulia had reacted to it; and he wondered what memories had been dredged up by the fever. He had endured the most traumatic memories that had shaped the man he now was. Whatever she had seen, Giulia was internalising everything; and he was amused by the irony of his frustration that she wasn't sharing.


Giulia scowled as she strode through the restaurant. There was no need to ask Rose where Damon was; if he wasn't in the library, he was at the bar at The Grill. She strode up to Damon and grabbed his glass, slamming it down on the bar.

"I drove over here going literally twenty miles per hour," she said as a greeting. "And then I remembered I don't have airbags so I parked my car and walked here. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

"You need to update your ride?" Damon asked, eyeing her hand pointedly. She picked up his glass and downed the rest of his bourbon. "Okay. Clearly you're in a mood."

"I'm in a – I am…I don't even – I can't even think clearly I am so angry at you," Giulia said, keeping her voice down.

"Angry, why, because I saved your life?"

"You did not save my life, you put it at risk," Giulia hissed.

"At risk?" Damon chuckled unconcernedly. At her glare, he swallowed, looking a little more focused.

"Until your blood is out of my system I am in danger of being turned into a vampire," Giulia reminded him.

"And what's wrong with that? Half – no, all of your friends are supernatural," Damon shrugged. "It's bound to happen sooner or later." Giulia stared at him. And stared.

For several long minutes, she stared down at him, silent and heartbroken. Of everything, the neglect, the open hostility, her father's death because of their feuding…that Damon had so little regard for her, for her safety, her life, that he could sit there, so blasé, and uncaringly tell her that it was an inevitability that she would be turned into a vampire…

"You don't even care that I'd be like you?"

She was too hurt to speak, to argue; the fight had left her. Because there was no point; there was no arguing with a vampire. With Damon. He…didn't care.

There was no explaining to Damon that she was human, she was vulnerable. She couldn't do everything he could, and yet a lot of people had started to expect that she could.

She wasn't going to drill it into his head that if she kept shoving vampire-blood down her throat every time she got hurt, she would lose respect for her own limitations – that that was the point where she would really get hurt.

Because he – had no respect for her.

It was the first time Giulia had ever understood that.

"Hey," a soft voice said, and Giulia bristled. "Hey, I hope you two aren't arguing because of me, what's going on." Elena gazed through her lashes at them. Giulia stared at her, unseeing; beyond her, John Gilbert glared on. Halfwit Stefan had thought it a good idea to summon him back to town to add one more body to the Protect Elena squad. He'd been unable to contact Isobel, so John was the next best thing; he hadn't managed to find her, either. She had fallen off the face of the earth.

Or into a dank hole in the ground.

Giulia knew Stefan had tried to contact Isobel; she'd found his voicemail on Isobel's phone. John was the next obvious choice: she was John's biological child, he had been trying to protect Elena from the things that went bump in the night since she was little, had ensured she had a wonderful life since the day she was born. That was what family did, regardless of how likeable they were – and John Gilbert was a douche.

Damon was a dick; but he didn't care about anything but himself.

Giulia used to fancy that he loved her, too.

"Not everything we do or say is dictated by you," Damon sneered at Elena, who flinched. Giulia, still upset by Damon and reeling from her revelations, glanced around the restaurant; she was supposed to meet Caroline for dinner but the Mystic Queen was late. Caroline was never late.

She pulled out her phone, ignoring Elena and Damon, and dialled Caroline's number. The call connected, and Giulia mumbled, "Hey, Caroline, are you on your way?" She really…really wanted to talk to someone. She felt like she was about to burst into tears – Elijah was at home and she was too hungry to go all that way back to an empty refrigerator and be a hot mess in front of Elijah, again. She kept waking him in the middle of the night with her nightmares – reliving first Tyler's transformation, Caroline's murder…and finding her dad. Combined with what Damon had just said to her, his irreverence, his complete disregard for her… She was struggling. She wanted her Caroline to sling her arms around her shoulders in a hug, her familiar perfume washing over her, just letting her sit quietly and upset.

"Well, well," an unfamiliar voice drawled, sending a nasty shiver down Giulia's spine. "The one who got in the way."

A cold chill seemed to envelope Giulia; something in her expression altered Damon's, watchful and still. She sighed. "You have to wonder about the super- part of your nature if a teenage girl can get the better of you. You're Jules, I presume. I'd say you know who I am but you probably can't pronounce my name. Why have you taken Caroline?"

"You and your little friends have made a mistake."

"Usually. Specify which, please: Stefan's hair in the Eighties; Damon's taste in women," Giulia said casually. "Or are you referring to us all looking out for our friend Tyler?"

"We want him. You're going to bring him to us."

"I'm disinclined to acquiesce your request," Giulia said, communicating with one extremely dangerous look how much trouble Damon was in. He had picked a fight with a werewolf, and she had attacked him: she had failed, mauling Giulia instead. And now she had targeted Caroline. "The thing is, I don't negotiate with terrorists."

"See, I think that you will," Jules practically simpered. A gunshot ricocheted, and Giulia was frozen, her heart turning glacial as Caroline screamed. "You have twenty minutes, or she dies." The line went dead.

"Why do they want Tyler?" Damon asked, as Elena gazed imploringly at him to be clued in.

"Politics," Giulia murmured distractedly, oddly calm, clear-headed. Filled with a murderous, white-hot rage. They had taken her Caroline.

"You'd think they'd learn after Elijah and I killed those wolves who showed up at the high-school," Damon sighed, clicking his tongue.

"What's going on?" Elena asked, as John Gilbert drifted closer.

"Finish your dinner, Elena," Giulia sighed tiredly, as she swiftly braided her hair down her back.

"Well, guess we're going hunting," Damon smirked, climbing off his bar-stool.

"Don't bother," Giulia said softly, drifting away, tucking her phone into her pocket. She braided her hair down her back as she strode across the restaurant, with the single thought; to find Caroline.

"Going to take on the big bad wolf all by yourself with a hatchet?" Damon asked, catching up with her. She briefly glimpsed Stefan taking Elena's arm as she made to storm after them, looking intent, John Gilbert simmering behind.

"You've an objection to that?"

"Hell, yeah, I haven't had a decent fight in weeks," Damon said, smirking.

"Hey," a voice said, and Giulia tilted her head in Tyler's direction. "I heard you on the phone. They've got Caroline?!"

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?" Damon asked, eyes glowing eerily as he glared at Tyler.

"Look, I don't want anything to do with that Jules chick," Tyler said, holding his hands up defensively. "She smells mean."

"I don't know, some people just don't smell right," Tyler shrugged. "I've kinda figured out the nastier you are, the nastier you smell. And that's without liquor and drugs in people's systems. They actually smell sweeter."

"Well, stick your head out the window and tell us if we're driving in the right direction," Damon smirked.

"Very funny," Tyler sighed. "How are we supposed to know where they are?"

"They're in the woods by the falls," Giulia said, slinging herself into the driver's seat.

"Not gonna ask how you know that," Damon muttered.

"Good. I wouldn't tell you," Giulia said. "We'll see you there."

"He up for this?"

"I don't even know what 'this' is!" Tyler blurted.

"Rescuing Caroline from psychotic werewolves who want to leverage you over your Uncle Mason," Damon explained, with a smirk. "You're the new moonstone."

"Why would anyone want to get to Mason?"

"Because he's a decent guy; they're not, and they know it," Giulia muttered, tucking most of her jewellery into her jacket-pocket and zipping it, putting her car in gear as Damon disappeared in a blur. "Decent people like Mason make people nervous. He's level-headed, he's kind, he cares about others, and he knows his own mind. That's dangerous to people scared of change."

"You think we can convince these guys to leave town?" Tyler asked.

"After a fashion," Giulia said thoughtfully, after a pause.

"Is he gonna kill someone?"

"Most likely," Giulia said, indicating and taking her turn.

"Am I gonna have to fight or something?" Tyler asked hesitantly. "It's one thing sparring with you; I got the feeling these guys have done this kind of stuff before."

"You don't have to," Giulia said quietly. "Just stay in the car so I know where you are. Just – if someone comes at you in the car, get out of the car because I don't want it being damaged."

"Thanks," Tyler said, raising his eyebrows.

"I've spent a lot of hours making sure the engine is perfect for my road-trip with Caroline," Giulia said plainly. "And it's a brand-new paint-job."

"Aren't you nervous?" Tyler asked.

"This isn't my first time," Giulia said grimly, changing gear.

"Are you okay?" Tyler asked.

"They took Caroline." No. She was not okay. Preparation and foresight, insight, could only get her so far; there would always be anomalies that couldn't be accounted for. Things she couldn't predict.

She was brilliant, not omniscient.

And they had taken Caroline. They had hurt her, shot her. She could still hear Caroline's scream.

And they wanted Tyler.

Not going to happen.

She sent a message to Elijah, called Liz and Sheila and told them what was going on.

It was difficult to organise an ambush without notice; Sheila could do what she needed from home, not putting herself in danger; Liz was ready, had abandoned a shooting in the projects to race over. Sheila texted her to tell her everything was good to go; Giulia told Liz and Tyler what to do, and she stocked up from the compartment in her trunk and set off into the woods.

"I know you're out there," a voice called in the dark. Giulia sighed, rolling her eyes. She was human; she couldn't exactly be subtle to supernatural ears. And she hadn't even tried to be. She climbed around a fallen tree laden with moss and ticking over with living things. A campfire glowed like a jewel in the dark, its scent laced with vervain. She knew there were about ten werewolves left, of the culling Elijah and Damon had squabbled over the other night, the wolves who had come to the school, and she knew they were circling around behind her. Damon was bringing up the rear to make sure. He hadn't had a hot meal in weeks.

"How wonderful that you can hear a human tramping through the woods in the dark!" Giulia sighed, looking her enemy over. Only her, illuminated by the firelight, those ridiculous full lashes about to unpeel from her eyelids. Scowling, a display of bravado, but arms folded over her chest, defensive. Not quite as bold and assured as she'd like them to think. She stood behind the fire, good staging, but she stood between Giulia and a battered 1970s RV. "Caroline's in there, I presume."

"She's locked up tight," Jules said coolly.

"That tin-wagon can hold a vampire?" Giulia asked disdainfully.

"Long enough for us to kill them," Jules hissed, giving her a smug look.

"You go to all the effort and risk of capturing vampires, rather than just killing them," Giulia frowned. "Didn't think wolves played with their food."

"Oh…we don't eat them," Jules smiled nastily. "Some, we just play with."

"And people like you are allowed to roam free," Giulia clicked her tongue. "I was never a fan of population control before, but rabid dogs are a danger to everyone."

"Where's Tyler?" Jules glowered.

"Oh, he has a Geometry test," Giulia said lightly; she had left him in her car with his textbook and a flashlight to write by.

"I told you what would happen if you didn't bring Tyler," Jules glared.

"See, the thing is, and it's no disrespect – well, maybe as much as this pathetic hostage situation deserves – but did you think for one moment that kidnapping the sheriff's daughter to get to the mayor's son would end any other way than in a hail of gunfire? If not here, then somewhere down the line when Caroline's mother calls in the FBI? I don't think that that is the kind of heat you can handle. So, I'm going to ask you, nicely, once, to let Caroline go, and leave town."

"I don't think so. See, Tyler's one of us," Jules said softly, smiling. "This pack is honour-bound to help him –"

"This pack is bound to eradicating an imaginary threat, and using Tyler as leverage to hurt a good man," Giulia interrupted, her tone glacial. "Do not make the mistake of talking down to me. You're here for your own agenda."

"Well, I see we're going to have to do this the hard way," Jules said.

"There was never any other choice," Giulia said coldly. "You're not the brightest, are you? The decks are stacked in my favour."

"Are you sure about that?" Jules smirked. She raised her fingers to her lips and let out a piercing whistle that echoed off the trees. Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, and shadowy figures emerged from the dark.

"Werewolves travel in packs," Giulia said tartly, "who could have predicted that? You're looking rather thin on the ground, though."

"Don't worry, there's more of us," Jules smirked.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that!" a familiar voice called, and a large body flumped to the ground beside Giulia. Throat torn out. Damon passed her the shotgun he had obviously taken, and roughly shoved an older-teen girl to the ground. She yelped, the scent of her blood tangy and warm on the air as she scrambled off her hands and knees, looking dazed, weak and messy, her long dark hair on end.

"Good meal?" Giulia asked, checking the shotgun was loaded.

"It's always more fun when they struggle," Damon said, with a satisfied smile. "Mm – remind me to feed on werewolves, not tear their hearts out; I don't know what kind of schwag blood the human stuff is – werewolves are like the Bugati of blood-types. Oh, this one's still alive because she didn't struggle. Didn't even put up a fight."

"He fed on me!" the girl cried to Jules.

"Oh, sweetheart, we all know you're used to being bit and sucked on," Damon tsked, smirking. "I can smell…everything on you. Guess eau de snank doesn't come out in the wash."

"Nope," Giulia tutted.

"I mean, I guess if you're the only used to being violently speared, lookout duty's a natural fit. They always get shafted first," Damon smirked. "Anyway, while I was back there snacking, I found these funny little things." He tossed Giulia something, and she smiled.

"Landmines!" she sighed.

"Threw me back to when you were five years old. Couldn't navigate the walled garden for the trebuchets," Damon sighed reminiscently.

"The good old days," Giulia sighed softly, arming the mine. The days when she had been so entranced with Damon, his little pal, the light in his darkness. But she realised it now, standing in the firelight with him, facing off against a pack of werewolves set on murdering her friend, she understood.

She had too much darkness of her own to be his light; and he had created that shadow, that tarnish.

When he had killed her dad, he had ruined everything.

He knew it; and now she realised that he did.

"Have to say, though, I mean, my feelings were a little hurt. I've only spent the last hundred-seventy-odd years in these woods. Think I wouldn't notice?" Damon clucked his tongue at Jules.

"Well, they're obnoxious, not clever. It's like Mason's the smart one," Giulia said, and Damon laughed.

"Either way, I'm glad the rumble wasn't over before I got here," Damon smiled lethally.

"Don't worry, Dally, I waited for you," Giulia said, alluding to The Outsiders. How many, d'you think?"

"There's what, ten? I'm guessing four."

"I'd say five."

"Even split? How much."

"Hundred."

"Okay." He narrowed his gaze on Jules as Giulia loaded the shotgun; she anticipated, and shell scattered across Jules' back as she leaped onto the RV and out of Damon's reach. Her scream echoed, Giulia reloaded and shot behind her to her left to shoot the guy she knew would react to her shooting Jules, distracted from Damon, their prime target. She discarded the shotgun, threw the landmine at another werewolf; it exploded in a hail of tiny wooden spikes and a whiff of vervain, a spray of blood and an agonised howl. Hm. Custom, she thought, mildly impressed.

"Hey!" someone barked. Giulia sighed, turned, and stared down the barrel of a gun. The shotgun she had discarded; held by the bleeding girl Damon had dragged in. She narrowed her eyes, choked up on her grip, and pulled the trigger. Giulia didn't blink; the other girl's lips parted as she realised what the clicking noise meant. Giulia had disabled the firing pin. She gave the girl a disdainful quirk of an eyebrow, struck out, disarmed her, punched her in the throat, kicked her diaphragm and hissed, "Sit!" at her, before picking up the skillet over the fire, scooping a handful of ground wolfsbane from the Ziploc in her pocket. She blew it in the face of one werewolf who dropped to the ground, screaming; Damon chuckled, plucking his shirt out from behind.

She swivelled to the side, avoiding a hit from behind that would've winded her and broken her clavicle, kicked out at the back of her attacker's knee so he stumbled to his knees, where she choked up on the skillet and swung with all her strength, the cast-iron colliding with her target with a sickening, bone-shattering crunch. He dropped to the ground, scalp bloodied and broken; she winced, flexing her fingers, she'd felt the strength of her hit in her hand. She grabbed her knife belted at her lower-back and dodged another hit, neatly, brutally disembowelling her last attacker before she yanked the door to the RV open, darting inside.

"Giulia?!"

"They messed up your hair," Giulia said quietly, frowning. She strode the length of the RV, rage simmering ever hotter as she took in the cage, and the state of her Caroline. Blood on her forehead, ashy face, bloodied, ripped t-shirt riddled with bullet-holes, tiny wooden spikes keeping wounds open and sizzling, seeped in vervain, in her neck. She looked in pain and hungry; Giulia had never seen the hollow look in Caroline's eyes. She noticed the darts, the child's water-pistols, the guns – lots of little toys, jars of wooden bullets soaking in vervain. They had tortured her.

She didn't mind losing $100. She should kill every one of them.

"There's a latch," Caroline sniffled, gripping the bars – and hissing as her fingers sizzled, skin seared by some kind of vervain polish. "There's a latch, I can't reach it." Giulia eyed the cage mechanism, systematically dismantling the cage, the weighted spring-loaded latch, rendering it useless. She lifted the door, and gasped softly in pain as it shattered, not through her back from lifting it, but her right hand. She propped the door open, until Caroline had scrambled through, and let the door clang shut behind her, the cage now useless.

"Is Damon out there?" Caroline asked quietly.

"Yeah. Having a hot meal," Giulia said, her voice grim. She kicked the RV door open, hitting whoever was rushing it; they sprawled on the ground, and Giulia walked over him, treading heavily.

The little camp-ground had fallen quiet; only the sound of groans and the crackling of the fire serenaded them. Damon pulled a face as he dumped a bloody heart on the fire.

"Oh. Hey, Caroline," he said, as if they had just met each other at the mall. "See, Liz? Nothin' to worry about; told you we'd get her back." Liz, who had appeared during the ambush, unveiled by Sheila's magic the way Giulia had organised it, made stronger by witchcraft, finished cuffing one of the survivors and gave Damon a look.

"Mom?" Caroline said, her voice quavering. Liz strode over to Caroline, enveloping her in a hug. Giulia could see the emotion on Liz's face – her stomach hurt. She would give anything to see that look on her dad's face. She glanced at Damon, then frowned and looked away, striding over to kick the jaw of one of the werewolves, rousing from the skillet she had bludgeoned him with.

"Are you okay, honey?" Liz asked, and Giulia leaned back against the RV, relief flooding her, realising her legs were shaking – not in the good way – she was out of breath, there were aches from exertion, and her hand hurt. But she watched Liz and Caroline hug, and it was worth it. She flexed her fingers, and gazed around, counting one – five. Dead bodies. Damon was eyeing up the RV for its flammable qualities to disguise the bodies.

"Oh," Damon reached a bloody hand into his back-pocket, withdrawing his wallet. He handed her two $50 notes. She winced as she tucked them into her bra, her hand twinging. "You wanna head home, Liz; I got this."

"I have to get back to the station," Liz said, "but you're okay?"

"I'll be fine," Caroline smiled tiredly, pushing her rumpled curls out of her face. "I'm okay. Really – I'm not girly little Care-Bear anymore."

"Oh, you always will be," Liz assured her, with a loving smile.

"Well, I'll clean up this mess," Damon said.

"No fires, please; the whole county's on a forest-fire warning," Liz said, glancing at Damon. "Why d'you think I'm taking these guys in?"

"Illegal camping?"

"Better than kidnapping my vampire daughter to blackmail the mayor's werewolf son," Liz said, Caroline still curled against her. Damon pulled a face, shrugging. "A few nights in jail and the fees they can't afford should be salt in the wound."

"I think they'd like the vegan option for their meals," Giulia spoke up. Liz chuckled, opening an arm to her; Giulia received her hug and her whispered, "Thank you."

"I'll see you at home," Caroline murmured to her mother, giving her another hug; she helped Liz load some of the wolfsbane-tranquilised werewolves into the prison-transporter for official booking. Giulia took out her phone, taking pictures, Liz did the same, confiscating evidence from the RV, from the site – the landmine fragments, the shotgun – in evidence bags.

"Guess I'll just dump 'em in the quarry," Damon shrugged, of the five dead werewolves – two were Giulia's, three Damon's – but Giulia shook her head.

"Waste not." She had Damon shift the bodies to Fell's tomb, warning him not to enter, and close the entrance after him. Even dead, their blood was still warm; if she could get to them, Katerina could feast. If not, at least the scent of their rotting corpses would add to her torment.

Giulia stamped out the fire, and by the time she and Caroline wandered to her car, the sky had lightened toward dawn.

"Thought you said no-one was gonna get hurt," Tyler admonished from the hood of her car. He had been waiting for them.

"I said Caroline wasn't going to get hurt," Giulia corrected, unlocking her Beetle. "I don't negotiate with terrorises. And the gromits on your jeans better not scratch my paint." She indicated for him to shift his ass off her car, which he did.

"Sheriff Forbes okay?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah, it's like she does this thing for a living," Giulia smirked. Tyler rolled his eyes but climbed into the back. Giulia winced as she shoved the seat back in place. "The wolfsbane should've worn off by now; they'll have been booked for illegal camping and fire-starting. And if they don't leave town we've got enough to pin them for the murder of their friends." She slung herself into the seat, sighing with relief. She bit off the leather gloves that had protected her fingerprints from appearing on the shotgun and bomb, and the heat of the skillet, rummaging in her pocket for the keys. She turned the ignition, stepped on the clutch, and grimaced as she shifted gear, pain almost taking her breath away as she gripped the gearstick, but she ignored it. She needed to get Caroline home, get Tyler home, get her home. The sound of her Beetle's engine was lulling, and she smiled tiredly to herself as the sky lightened to a bluebell hue tinged with orange and lavender, ignoring the pain in her hand as she shifted gear again at a red light.

"Oh, my God!" Giulia jumped. "Giulia, your hand!"

"I'll look at it later; I'm driving," she said, navigating the streets as the early-morning commuters she usually joined headed for Richmond made their pilgrimage to the freeway.

"No, Giulia, pull over, now!" Caroline said sternly, and Giulia sighed, doing what she was told. "Look at your hand!"

"What?" Giulia sighed, aggravated by sleep-deprivation and pain, and Caroline's annoyingly loud exclamations in her little quiet car.

"Oh," Tyler said from the back, as Giulia raised her right hand. She couldn't unfurl her fingers fully; and her palm and the back of her hand were greenish-tinged black from bruising.

"You've broken your hand!" Caroline cried, giving an exasperated growl, swatting irritably at the tiny darts sticking out of her neck. "Alright, you're going in the back with Tyler; I'm driving you to the hospital."

"No freaking way! This is a manual transmission; you think I'm going to let you ruin my gearbox!" Giulia blurted. "This car is essential to our road-trip, Car; I cannot risk that."

"All the more reason I should learn how to drive a stick," Caroline said fairly, watching Giulia literally clutch the steering-wheel to her, staring at Car, appalled, the sound of the gearbox grinding already echoing in her ears, making her twitch.

"I learned on a stick-shift," Tyler spoke up; Giulia clutched harder.

"Fine!" Caroline sighed, exasperated. She pulled out her phone, reclaimed from Jules, and dialled Damon. He appeared in less than a minute.

"Move." He indicated Giulia out of her seat with a few expressive flicks of his fingers, and Giulia grumbled but relinquished her car to him.

"How did you even drive this far with your hand like that?" Caroline asked.

"Adrenaline," Tyler said quietly. "Giulia reeked of it." Damon pulled up in front of the E.R. and they piled out. Giulia stared at Caroline, who murmured, "Oh," and tidied herself up, before frog-marching Giulia into the E.R.

Meredith was the attending doctor, in the fourteenth hour of a twelve-hour shift. Caroline bribed, cajoled and compelled Giulia to the top of the list amid colicky babies, drug-addicts and the usual mess of Mystic Falls' finest. Meredith took one look at her hand and sent her off for x-rays, which – after a few hours – showed that Giulia had several compound fractures to her hand.

"What were you doing this time?" Meredith asked irritably; her bedside-manner sucked.

"Would you believe a rumble with some werewolves trying to push into our terr'tory?" Giulia said. "Are you prescribing me drugs?"

"It goes against my better judgement, but yes," Meredith sighed. "Why were you fighting werewolves?"

"They took Caroline."

"They didn't live to regret it, I presume," Meredith said, pulling a face.

"Five of them didn't," Giulia said, shrugging. "Ridiculous, isn't it? The odds were ten-to-three and Damon and I still came out on top."

"Did you get another concussion?" Meredith frowned. "Damon and you makes two."

"Liz was there, but it's a secret," Giulia whispered.

"Got it. Her little girl was taken, but the Council don't know about Caroline so she couldn't use Council resources," Meredith nodded. "Do you want a coloured cast?"

"Plain's good," Giulia sighed, reflecting that it was good she'd kept on top of her health-insurance payments.

"You don't want a black one?" Meredith asked. "It'll get less grubby."

"Okay, fine," Giulia mumbled.

"You know I'm not gonna let you drive with this cast on, right?" Meredith prompted, and Giulia glanced sharply at her, glaring. "You've broken your hand! You're not going to be handling a stick-shift and steering-wheel."

"I'd still be driving better than half the psychos in town," Giulia said imploringly, the prospect of being beholden to someone else to get her from A to B galling to her.

"Forget it, Giulia," Meredith said.

"This sucks," Giulia sighed grumpily, surprised when she lifted her hand to rub her exhausted eyes, and she clubbed herself in the face with a brand-new black cast, binding her hand from knuckles to wrist. She was disoriented from tiredness, grumpy, and in pain.

"Just for a few weeks," Meredith said, smiling sympathetically. "If you want my professional opinion, it will do you good to be forced to slow down for a little while."

"If I lose momentum I'll trip," Giulia countered quietly, stifling an enormous yawn.

"Well, fair enough," Meredith sighed. "But go easy on the tramadol, okay, and if there are any side-effects come straight off the pills, I'll prescribe you something else."

"Thanks," Giulia said softly. She slipped off the bench, took her prescription, and was hustled out of the E.R. by Meredith, keen to hand over to the new shift.

Damon drove them to their favourite diner, and Giulia popped a tramadol with her breakfast; by the time Damon stopped the Beetle in front of her house, she was high as a kite. She had the distinct benefit of not having invited Damon or Caroline into her house, otherwise she'd never have shaken Caroline. They were both still rattled about what happened last night – Caroline had been tortured, but she had shaken it off the instant she had seen Giulia was injured. At least she respected that Giulia wouldn't take her blood.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" Damon asked. Giulia gave him a look, he held up his hands, pulled a face and disappeared. She had been raised to be open-minded and independent; when Damon and Stefan had failed to remember she might need someone around her to be the adult, Damon didn't now get to ask. She hadn't had anyone looking after her for nine months; the line had been drawn, nobody could cross it now. Trying to reverse the roles wasn't going to work; she was the one who took care of people. Soothed feelings; fixed problems. Hid the bodies.

A few months ago, when she had really been struggling, she would have appreciated Damon being there for her at the hospital. But he hadn't been there for her when she'd needed someone to just care. And she'd never forget that. She had struggled, alone, and come out the other side of some very dark, very dangerous stuff she should never have been dragged into. By Damon. Because despite everything she had still…cared about him. Still cared about the bond they used to have, not realising until tonight that Damon had been pushing her away since he had killed her dad.

In his eyes, he had ruined her for him. Their bond could not survive what he'd done, and Giulia had been forever altered by it. Had turned her into…someone more like him; that, he couldn't forgive. He didn't like.

Fundamentally, Giulia didn't think she was like Damon. But he saw himself reflected in her. And he hid it well, but Damon was self-loathing.

She knew she could do anything; no-one had any right now to tell her she couldn't.

Giulia crawled over to the chaise, creating a nest of blankets, and fell into a deep pharmaceutical sleep; she had very strange dreams, dredging up a lot of mess she kept buried, warped and Burtonised like a demented leap down her own personal rabbit-hole.

She woke up shuddering a few hours later, dumping the tramadol in the trash, skin itching, brain churning with warped dreams Stephen King could've turned into an amazing movie. Obviously she would have to stick to regular pain-relief.

"That bad?" a voice said softly, as Giulia shoved her hand under the faucet, perplexed by the black cast on her right hand. She splashed cold water on her face with her left, nodding.

"Why do people think that's fun?"

"They obviously have little else in their lives that delights them," Elijah said softly. "What happened to your hand?"

"Three compound fractures," Giulia moaned miserably, head in her hands over the sink, feeling nauseous.

"How many of the werewolves did you kill?"

"Two."

"Not a bad start to the day. Your friend isn't hurt?"

"She's healed, but I'm sure Car's still upset," Giulia sighed. "Taking me to the hospital distracted her."

"It appears she has fixated on your injury to keep from dwelling on her own," Elijah said, handing Giulia her phone. "Seventeen texts and five voicemails, getting more frantic."

"Too bad she'd smell the tramadol in her food," Giulia sighed, rubbing her face. "How long was I out?"

"A good six hours," Elijah said, drawing her to him by her waist. "You obviously needed it." Giulia leaned into him, instantly relaxed, the itch and warped delusion fading away.

"I need to stop going to the E.R.," Giulia sighed. Especially if what they prescribed had such eerie side-effects on her psyche.

"Truly, you do," Elijah agreed. "What is this, the second time in a month?"

"Not including my mauling," Giulia mumbled against Elijah's shoulder. "Perhaps I should let you swaddle me in eiderdown."

"Perhaps your friends should learn to handle their own problems," Elijah suggested.

"What would I do with my time?"

"I have a few ideas."


A.N.: I've had a few issues this week with power-cuts at home, so a looong chapter for you after a long week of no updates!