Archive of Our Own

Calliope Burns was never allowed a pet.

It makes sense, really. There were a million different reasons behind the logic. The first and foremost being that her family packs up and moves whenever the wind shifts, seemingly. One tip and the new life Calliope spent a few weeks building up around her suddenly crumbles to dust. Eventually, she learned to just trudge and kick up ash until she had to move again. Any tethers were dangerous, and something always came back to bite you. A pet couldn’t live a good life constantly being herded away from location to location. Calliope could barely live like this.

Then, there was the reasoning that backed safety. Pets were another being to look after, to keep safe. Another thing to fall to monsters if something got its hands on it. Who knows what kind of things could take the image of a beloved pet, only to claw your throat out when it first had the chance? With every beating heart they carried with them, it was another risk of exposure. Another heartbreak that the Burns family couldn’t take. 

So, no, Calliope Burns was never allowed a pet. She was fine with it. It was annoying when all of the other girls were asking for puppies, or spent lunch periods talking about their lizards and birds and cats, but Calliope had a crossbow. She figured they were practically the same once you brush past a few differences, like being biological. She didn’t need one, she didn’t lose herself in delusions of hunting monsters alongside a wolf, or being saved by a particularly fierce wildcat.

(Well, she used to. But also, she was 10, so she figures everyone has to cut her some slack.)

All this said, when Calliope was walking home and heard a sharp bark, she paid it no mind at first. 

It was still a few weeks before her family could hightail it out of the town, and it was a few weeks too many. There were too many things haunting this town, and Cal wanted to put it all behind her. Maybe if she started over, again, she would forget all about pretty vampires and undead brothers. Maybe if she kept moving like a shark, always on the hunt, Juliette Fairmont would be forgotten like a honey-covered whisper in the wind. 

Her parents had forbidden her from walking alone at night, but Cal’s been on a rebellious streak as of late. Granted, it all led to regret and heartbreak, but it was something Cal couldn’t walk out of. It was something that thrummed with her heart, a desire to not sit down and become another extension of a killing hand. She was an independent hunter, she had gotten her first kill. She was her own person, and she would operate as one. 

The bark came again, closer. Calliope stopped, pivoting silently on one heel as her right hand instinctively went for a weapon. She wasn’t foolish enough to wander without a means of defense. 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the being padding towards her. It’s black, shaggy fur blended with the dark Savannah night cloaking the two of them. 

“Shit,” Calliope says, drawing the quick silver blade, backing up slowly as the hound approaches. 

Growing up in a monster hunter family, Calliope had lessons about mythology from all around the world piled on top of her regular classes. She isn’t a stranger to black dogs, and all of their bad omens. 

Death follows the hounds everywhere, malevolency forged within their fur.

As her eyes focus around the dog, though, she notices that the trot of the creature isn’t an aggressive lunge. It’s a friendly gait, almost as if Cal had called it to her. She continues moving back as the dog finally passes under a light. The glow catches along the messy fur, illuminating the red tips where the dog’s coat had begun to rust. Calliope realizes one of the reasons it took her so long to make out the shape of the beast was that she had been expecting a bigger dog. The dogs that prowl at night that bring death with them are typically large, ranging to the size of a small bull at moments.

This dog was not the size of a bull. It barely passed the height of Cal’s knees, and it seems to falter at Cal’s open displays of aggression. Its long fur seemed to shift off of the light from the streetlight, but only in a way a tangled mangy coat would. There were no glowing yellow or red eyes, no trail of blood or electrical storm hovering around. The dog stared at Cal with dark brown eyes, seeming all in the world like an average stray. 

Calliope wasn’t fooled, though. She had trained too long and too hard to be tricked by any monsters anymore. She kept backing up, watching as the dog slowly walked after her. 

“Back up,” She finally warns the dog. The dog doesn’t react to her cool tone, acting as if it can’t understand the threat at all. It continues forward. 

“Stop!” Cal says, louder this time. The dog falters, paws tip-tapping against the concrete of the sidewalk, heat lingering in the pavement despite the sun having fallen past the horizon hours ago. 

“You’re not tricking me,” Cal says. She lowers her arms from their defensive position, but keeps the weapon clutched in her palm. She flips the small knife, catching it in her hand. Talia’s words of scolding float through her hair as an afterthought, but she brushes it off. A nervous habit, and a flashy trick. None of it mattered as long as she was ready to strike like a serpent by the time she caught the handle again.

The dog stares at her blankly, as dogs do. 

Despite herself, Cal sighs.

“This is stupid,” She narrates to no one. To the dog, maybe, or herself. Pocketing the blade (but keeping it close enough to get at easy access), Cal crouches down. 

The dog takes the invitation in stride, walking happily into her arms. It’s friendly enough to take Cal’s rougher pets and scratches behind the ears. Its fur is grimy between her fingers, enough for her to pull back after a few minutes with a frown. 

The dog looks at her, brown puppy dog eyes boring into her soul. 

Checking for a collar is fruitless, only more fur coats the dog’s neck. It’s matted along in a rat’s nest, and Calliope shivers to think about how many ticks and fleas this poor being might be carrying.

“I haven’t seen a lot of strays in Savannah,” Cal comments. She pets the dog’s head, keeping half of her attention towards her surroundings. She’s still tense, wound like a spring, ready for an ambush of sorts. 

Nothing happens, of course. The dog nudges her hand and Cal scratches along its mouth. 

“Who would give up a beauty like you?” Cal asks the dog. The dog is stunning, coat solid all the way through with an inky black and it has fine form, if a bit scrawny from being on the streets. Where the sun had baked into its fur, the coat had turned that rusted orange Cal always thought was beautiful; sun spots that fade and reappear with the seasons.

She kneels with the dog for a while longer, ideas that it might be a harbinger of death slowly sapping out of her mind as it rolls over, revealing his stomach. Calliope scoffs, giving the obligatory belly rubs he demands before eventually standing. 

The dog immediately straightens, giving an almost offended look. 

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Calliope says, “I gotta get home.”

The dog stands.

“No,” Cal says, giving an affection ruffle atop his head, “Alone. I can’t take you home.”

She backs up a few steps. Predictably, the hound ghosts her footsteps. When she stops, he stops, giving her an expectant look. 

“No,” Calliope repeats, “Buddy, you can’t come with me. My parents would never take in a dog. Especially, well, a dog like you. Besides, you almost definitely have fleas.”

He stares blankly. After a beat passes, he turns around the opposite direction and begins walking. 

Cal tilts her head in confusion, but shakes it off, figuring that that was easier than expected. 

Except after a few paces, the dog turns and looks at her as if to beckon to follow, tail wagging unsurely.

Now, that was weird. Calliope didn’t fuck with weird, not these days. So she turns on her own heel and begins to make her way home. She doesn’t even have to turn around as she hears the quick-paced paws run before the dog appears by her side, brushing along her legs.

Calliope stops, rounding on the dog. 

“What?” She says, a little too loudly. She cringes back the same way the dog does. More quietly, she adds, “I can’t take you home, and I’m not going to follow you. That’s dangerous, buddy.”

The dog just stares expectantly, and Cal shakes her head. 

She moves forward again, and the dog lets out a full whine. Scoffing, she faces it, holding out a demanding finger. 

“Sit,” She tries. 

The dog does, and she sends a quick prayer that this will work. 

She backs up a step, and the dog stands, pausing when her voice rings out again. “Stop. No, sit. Stay.”

The dog sits and stays as she takes a few more paces backwards, repeating the ‘stay’ command. 

Eventually, she turns away from the dog and begins walking away. The dog doesn’t follow, and when she shoots a few looks from over her shoulder he is still sitting like a good dog. She stamps out the twinge of guilt in her heart, telling herself that she can’t take care of the poor thing. It’s better to lose it behind. 

She turns a few corners on her way home, and the dog doesn’t move until the sun rises.

------

Juliette Fairmont was never allowed a pet.

It makes sense, really. There were a million different reasons behind the logic. Oliver’s little…turtle incident established a strong animal ban across the whole of Fairmont estate. She remembers her parents refusing to tell her the whole story for a long while, not wanting to scare her - or worse, put any ideas in her head. This all went out of the window when Elinor sat her down and told her, in excruciating detail, the extensive list of Oliver’s crimes. Juliette was inconsolable for a long while, to the point where even thinking about animals dying to this day makes her heart feel as if it was fracturing within her chest. 

Then, as if reinforcing her parent’s fear, she refused to feed for a long while. As the blood pills she took worked less and less, and as she kept refusing to feed, her parents worried if she would fly off the handle. Not having an innocent, blood-filled animal within the house seemed to soothe them slightly. Even if Juliette would rather gnaw her own arm off than kill an animal by her own hands.

Sure, it made her deeply upset. She mourned her lack of companionship and begged for a puppy like all of her other classmates, being shot down over and over again by both of her parents. Eventually, she learned to settle with the hole in her heart where a kitten would go. She lived vicariously through youtube videos of pet owners, cat compilations, and Ben with his hamsters (that all died in horrific ways until he swore them off as well, claiming it was an act of solidarity with Juliette instead of trauma from hamster death). 

Her parents never said anything about taking care of strays, though. 

Logically, Juliette knows it almost directly goes against the no-pets rule her parents still have in place. But it wasn’t as if the dog was coming anywhere near the house, it was Juliette who had to go to the very edge of the property’s lawns, meeting the black dog that waited three times a week for her. 

It wasn’t an old practice. It was only when Juliette had taken up wandering the town and streets sadly to get out of her own head (or ‘haunt the streets like a widow’ as her mother scolded) that she met the scraggly dog. 

She couldn’t deny the puppy dog eyes of the shaggy black thing, and he was so friendly to her. And maybe, just maybe, Juliette needed a break-up dog. Not that he would fix her problems, but he did make her feel better. Fractionally. Less like a monster and more like a normal teenage girl, a protagonist of a coming of age movie with her cool fan-favorite dog. 

Ben absolutely adored him as well, fawning over the dog when Juliette first led the beast to their neighborhood. He demanded that they name the stray, take him in fully. Neither, though, could magically manifest the funds needed to take the dog to the vet and make sure he was properly taken care of without raising suspicion from their parents. Juliette had agreed, however, that they needed to name him. 

Ben suggested Padfoot, of Cerberus, but Juliette was tired of mythology and monsters.

Ben pulled up a list of names for black dogs, but the duo couldn’t decide on one. When Juliette liked one, Ben quarreled with her. When Ben liked one that Juliette didn’t, she handily pointed out that she was the one taking care of the dog the most. 

So, the dog remained nameless. For now, at least. 

The first time the dog didn’t show up when expected, Juliette had been shot through with fear over the poor thing. She fretted about animal control, or other monsters, pacing through the neatly trimmed grass for hours. She couldn’t even call for the dog, because he only responded to long pauses at this point. 

When Juliette was about to give up hope and wander dejectedly back to her home, she finally saw the tips of black ears turn a corner and come into view. She sighed heavily, sagging with relief and falling to her knees. It was dawn now, and she was exhausted. But she still had food for the pup, and wanted to make sure he was okay. 

“You are in so much trouble,” She says, greeting the dog with a slice of deli turkey and scratches behind his ear. The dog’s tongue lolls in the early summer Savannah heat, looking all for the world untroubled. 

“I have to get home before my parents realize I haven’t been there all night,” She continues, leaning against the dog’s flank like a pillow. The dog lays down, taking her with him. “They’re gonna think I’m with…well, they’re going to think I’m sneaking out to do stuff I shouldn't. And technically, like, I am. I shouldn’t be taking care of you. But in comparison to going around to a vampire hunter house? You’re like not eating broccoli next to drawing on walls with permanent markers.”

She runs a hand through the soft black fur, reminding herself for the millionth time to try to find a way to bathe this dog. 

“I mean,” She continues, “It’s not as if I didn’t like going around to the Burns house. They have a nice house. They’re just very…stabby. Stake-y. Spear-y. And, well, Calliope is there. We know how she feels about me.” The statement is punctuated with a mirthless laugh, and then a sigh. 

She wastes another handful of minutes with the dog, staring at the lightening sky with the dog’s body heat pressed into the side of her face. Offering her hand, he licks it for a few minutes before she sits and stands up. 

“I do actually have to get back to my house,” Juliette says. “Next time, I’d appreciate it if you could come on time.” 

He stares blankly at her, and she reaches down to pet him fondly before turning back to climb through her window, and sleep for the next 12 hours.

The dog is on time, the next time. She’s able to waste a few hours of the early night with him, and get a full schedule of sleep after. For a couple of days, things return to normal with their schedule. Juliette can almost forget all about his weird change of heart that almost got the both of them caught. Her mother had scolded her for sleeping in and demanded an explanation, and Juliette had to fib about how she had started a new book. (She actually had started a new book, but it was hardly interesting enough to keep her up all night. It turns out she only really likes Shakespeare when it’s Calliope dramatically narrating it.)

Then one day, he’s missing again. Juliette feels sick to her stomach for a long while, but instead of fretting, she resolves to come back at dawn. She figures that if this was anything like last time, not only was she unable to do anything about the dog, but sitting there helplessly would be more of a hindrance to the situation. He’ll come back. He always does.

Her predictions were true, as at dawn the dog was sitting there patiently, as if he was the one left waiting and hadn’t worried Juliette to the point of borderline nightmares.

“Where do you even go?” She wonders, watching the dog wolf (ha) down the food she offers him. “Are you cheating on me, or something?”

The dog gives her an innocent look, and after his meal he stands and begins trotting away. 

“Wh- hey!” Juliette says, offended. “When did this become our relationship? You’re just using me for food?”

The dog pauses, glancing over at Juliette as if confused. She stares back for a long moment before trekking towards the dog. As she catches up, he sets off again. 

“Do you want me to follow you? Is that it?” She wonders aloud as she trails after the black beast. She’s glad now that it is dawn and she has the day to waste away instead of trying to sneak away from her home in the middle of the night. She can throw Ben under the bus this way, say that he convinced her to hang out with him. He won’t mind, probably.

The dog leads her out of her neighborhood, into town. Distantly, Juliette recognizes that this must look odd. A rich preppy girl following a mangy stray. She waves to a few early joggers, gesturing at the dog as if to say that she’s walking him. It’s painfully awkward, because of course it is. 

“I hope wherever you’re leading me, it’s with less people to judge me,” She mutters to the dog at the exact same time someone walks out of a store to see her talking to an animal. She flashes an uneasy smile, which they return. Hiding her face with her hand, she swears to herself to be quiet the rest of the journey. 

The dog starts leading her into and across alleyways, and to places Juliette is beginning to recognize. It is purely coincidental, she figures, that the dog has led her to Calliope’s part of town. There’s no reason to start having her heart beat faster at the thought of it, whether it be out of fear that suddenly a million different hunters with steeled-tip spears will pop out of the shadows, or that a pretty girl with hypnotic eyes will charge her. 

The latter thought causes something hot to coil within her stomach, and she decides to ignore it. 

The dog’s trot eventually begins to slow, and Juliette almost sighs with relief. They’re a bit of ways from where Cal lives, so it doesn’t have to mean anything. Juliette was being silly, letting her brain jump to the worst (or best) case scenario she can figure out. It was as if everything came back to Cal at the end of the day. She was a vortex, a whirlpool, and Juliette was merely caught in her tide. She can fight as much as she wants, but when she made Calliope the sun in her universe, she knew what she was doing. Still, she can hardly regret it now. 

It was sketchy, though, that the dog was leading her into increasingly worrying alleyways. They got darker and wetter, and Juliette found herself having to watch where she stepped.

“Alright, you know where you’re going?” She addressed the dog, whose tail wagged at the sound of her voice but gave no indication or confirmation. To be fair, he was a dog, so Juliette wasn’t exactly expecting a lot of results. She had already broken her vow of silence, so saw no real reason to not continue chattering.

“It’s just that I don’t wander around this part of town very much,” She continues, babbling to a dog, because of course she would, “And I sort of have bad associations with alleyways. Though I trust you! I’m sure the alleyway where you live is very nice, I just am a little uneasy in places I haven’t been before. Or when meeting new people either; please tell me all of your dog friends are as nice as you? I hope so, I don’t have any experience with animals, so maybe I should really be heading back…”

She trails off as the alleyway they were in leads to an area behind buildings, covered all in dull concrete and broken glass. A forgotten clearing in a concrete jungle. Contrasting her expectations, there’s no pack of dogs ready for her, but her stomach still falls through the floor seeing what awaits her. 

“You!” Calliope cries, leaping to her feet and charging towards her.

“Me!” Juliette says, backing up as Cal draws closer. 

Before she gets too close, she’s blocked by the dog standing between them. He isn’t snarling aggressively, but more of acting as a body shield. He nudges and bodily guides Calliope backwards, much to her spluttering confusion. Juliette is fine with this development, back pressed against the wall and arms feebly put up in self defense.

“Wha- Buddy?” Cal says, looking down at the dog and then back to Juliette. She scoffs, before dragging her hands through her hair. To Juliette’s disappointment, she sees that somehow Calliope managed to produce a stake from nowhere and it sat comfortably in her right hand. 

“I knew it,” Calliope said, taking a step back from the dog as if his touch disgusted her. “I knew this dog was a bad omen. This is low, Juliette, even for you.”

Juliette’s confused gaze does nothing but cause Calliope to get even angrier. 

“Using an evil dog to stalk me?” Cal elaborates, as if it’s obvious and not the most far fetched thing Juliette’s heard in weeks. “To let me get my walls down so you can, what? So you can come in here and bite me?”

That causes Juliette to flinch back, mind finally catching up to where her body is. “No- what?” She questions, shaking her head, “Cal, I wouldn’t- I would never do that.”

“You would never do that, except for the time you did,” Cal says. 

“No, I promised to never hurt you,” Juliette says. Something dark and evil must be lurking in her chest, and that’s why she can’t help but add on, “I’m keeping my promise.”

Calliope levels a scorching gaze at her, but doesn’t bother responding to the statement.

“Then why did you do this?” She asks instead, “Why do you do anything, Juliette?”

“Look, Cal, I didn’t have anything to do with this,” Juliette responds, gesturing to the place they were in. “I don’t even know where we are, I don’t know why I was led here, I don’t even-”

“Do you know this dog?”

“No!” Juliette bursts out, “He’s just a stray that I feed and take care of, I swear I don’t know anything about him! He’s never done this before, he’s never led me around like this. Hate me all you want, I know, that’s fine, that’s fair. But please believe me because I’m not lying to you.”

Maybe it could be the desperation in her voice, or maybe it could be that it was just Juliette, but Calliope’s stance relaxes slightly. 

“So,” Cal says, “You don’t know anything about this dog either?”

“He’s just a stray that I found one day, led back to my house, and I feed him three times a week,” Juliette says, allowing herself to lean down and pet the dog. “That’s all I know, I swear.”

Calliope nods, as if satisfied. “The story is the same with me, more or less. He wouldn’t stop following me until I led him to this place. Now every once in a while I’ll meet him here to feed him and take care of him.”

Juliette holds the dog's face in her hands, “And here I thought you were all by yourself,” She says to the dog. For his record, he looks as if he’s having the time of his life with the two caretakers finally next to each other. 

“He’s been playing us like a fiddle,” Calliope agrees, and her breath huffs out in something that could be a laugh. But when Juliette looks up at her with a smile, Cal’s expression sours and she clears her throat. 

“Well, what now?” Cal asks. 

Juliette keeps petting the dog. “Do you think he wanted us to meet for a reason?”

Cal shakes her head immediately. “No, he isn’t magical or mythological of any kind. He carries no traits from dogs of folklore, especially any black dogs. They’re all bad omens, but all he’s done is- well, he’s just a dog. A very friendly dog.”

“I meant,” Juliette says, straightening up and nervously interlocking her fingers, “Maybe he’s a sign from the universe? Maybe we’re just not meant to be apart from each other for that long.”

The attempt falls flat, and Cal’s look is cold. “No, Juliette. I told you to stay the hell away from me and I meant it. Buddy doesn’t change that.”

Juliette lets her heart shatter all over again. She lets herself feel every piercing shard catch in her blood and spread throughout her body. Then, she wraps it all up in a little cloth in her brain and stows it away. She’ll stick her hands in the mess and fix it later. 

“Buddy?” She questions, instead. 

Cal shifts her weight from foot to foot, looking embarrassed. “Well, he doesn’t have a collar. Or assumedly a name. It’s just what I kept calling him, and eventually he started responding to it.”

When Juliette doesn’t respond immediately, she crosses her arms and adds defensively, “It fits, doesn’t it? He’s a friendly dog! He’s my buddy!”

Juliette holds up her hands. “I’m not denying it! I think it’s a good name. I’ve just been letting him respond to my long pauses.”

Juliette catches Cal’s mouth turning upwards at that before the smile is quickly wiped away. She still can’t help but store the split second next to her heart.

“I can’t believe we’re co-parenting this dog,” Juliette says once the silence stretches a little too long. 

“We are not co-parenting Buddy,” Calliope protests. 

Juliette raises an eyebrow at her, “Really? Because from where I’m standing each of us is taking care of him on the days the other doesn’t have him.”

“We are not this dog’s divorced parents.”

“We absolutely are.”

“Juliette,” Cal sighs.

“I’m not saying it has to be anything,” Juliette raises her hands placatingly, “I’m just saying that Buddy obviously likes us both. And there’s a spot here that’s basically a middle ground between our two houses. It’s out of the way, where no one will question it, and we’re giving this dog a better life.”

“I’m not allowed to have pets.”

“Neither am I! He’s just…a secret. He doesn’t have to be a pet.”

“A secret?” Cal raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I don’t want to say goodbye to this dog,” Juliette says, letting sincerity seep into her tone, “And you don’t either. It can be purely professional. We meet here once a week, talk about any concerns we have with Buddy, and part ways.”

“I can’t believe you’re using this demon dog to try and mend our relationship.”

“Cal,” Juliette says desperately, “If you really don’t want to, I’m not going to make you. I’m trying to find a way that works the best for us. You don’t have to see me too much, you barely have to talk to me. I know you hate me and- and that’s okay. I’ve accepted that. Please, though, just work with me on this one front.”

Cal wavers. 

“Calliope,” She pleads, soft and gentle.

Cal falls. Her shoulders slump and she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She reminds Juliette a lot of Talia at this moment. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Cal says, “But yes. Sure. We’ll co-parent Buddy.”

Juliette smiles wide, unable to help herself. Cal gives her a disdainful look for it, but something in her eyes prevents the sting. 

“I’ll meet him in the evenings Monday, Thursday, and Friday and mornings on Tuesday, Saturday, and Sunday,” Juliette confirms, already conforming to the schedule that Buddy has put them in. “Wednesday, we’ll meet here in the morning.”

“Sure, whatever. That sounds fine,” Calliope’s walls throw up an air of indifference. But Juliette has spent what feels like lifetime after lifetime loving this girl, and can see straight through it. 

Juliette offers her hand. “It’s a deal.”

Cal stares at it, and for a moment Juliette is petrified that she won’t take her hand and leave her standing there like an idiot.

Then, she reaches forward and takes it, shaking it once, firmly. She drops Juliette’s hand immediately, as if she can’t stand to hold onto her any more than necessary. 

Still, the warmth of her skin seems to travel all the way up Juliette’s arm, haunting her.

“This is so stupid,” Cal says, leaning down and petting Buddy. The dog rubs up against Calliope, tail wagging in joy. “I hate that I’m doing this.”

Juliette opts not to mention that she can hear Cal’s heartbeat racing. 

------

The arrangement, like most things involving Juliette and Calliope, falls apart almost immediately. 

The following Wednesday, Juliette makes sure to arrive at dawn instead of the early morning in which she did before. Somehow, Cal has beaten her to the punch, sitting on her phone patiently in a patch of sunlight. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have said it seems like you’re waiting for me,” Juliette says. Buddy slips from under her guiding fingers and into Cal’s awaiting arms, dispersing the tense air that sat between the two of them.

“It’s a good thing you know better, then,” Cal says, standing. 

Buddy seems caught between the two of them, taking two steps towards Juliette before pausing and swiveling back to Calliope for attention. Cal keeps her hand on his head reassuringly and Juliette shifts her weight awkwardly. 

“So?” She asks, if only to fill the silence. 

Cal’s steady petting falters if only for a moment, but of course Juliette catches it. She’s smart enough to not mention it, though. 

“So what?” Cal asks instead. 

“Have you noticed anything particularly damning with Buddy? Anything that requires immediate attention?” Juliette asks. Her fingers flex slightly, wanting to feel the dog’s soft fur, or fidget with something, or do anything to help release this building tension that only she seems to be reacting to.

“...He could do with a bath,” Calliope says, a smile playing on her lips. 

Juliette laughs. “He could. How would that work, though?”

Calliope opens her mouth as if to say something, but seems to change her mind halfway through its course. “There’s a couple of old tins here. We just need to find a way to get water into them, and some other stuff to wash him with.”

“I can probably get dog shampoo and stuff. There’s a pet store I pass on my way here, anyways. I can get us any stuff we need,” Juliette offers immediately. 

Calliope nods. “Well, that still doesn't solve the water problem.”

Juliette moves to slide down against a wall in the shade, instinctively picking at the skin around her fingers. “We could ask one of the stores to fill it up and bring it back?”

At Juliette’s movement, Buddy stands up under Cal’s hand, before hesitantly sitting back down. His paws tap against the ground impatiently. 

“You expect me to lug a big tub of water around and through a dirty alley?” Calliope asks. Juliette immediately jumps to correct her, hyper aware of this fragile thing between them that twangs and could shatter at any turn of wind. But Calliope’s tone is light, and her smile grows. Juliette smiles back, and this time Calliope doesn’t even react. 

“You could ask one of them to bring a hose back and fill it from there?” Juliette tries again. 

“Ah, yes, ‘please good sir, fill this tub of water up for me. No need to ask what it is for, I promise you we are not bringing a stray dog around your establishment, no, no,’” Cal immediately latches on, smirking. 

Juliette laughs. “‘Sir, you don’t understand, it’s for a school project!’”

“‘Yes! A school project, my kind man, so won’t you spare some water on this wretched Savannah day?’”

Juliette turns her face down to hide her smile before looking up at Calliope, catching her gaze that seems all too fond. Cal looks away first, clearing her throat. 

“Uh, no,” She says, moving past the nice moment, “I think getting the water here will be the most difficult part.”

Buddy seems to run out of patience at this point, getting up from where he sits by Calliope’s feet and padding over to Juliette.

Cal frowns at the loss of the dog, but when Buddy lies down in the shade with his head in Juliette’s lap, he looks at Calliope expectantly.

With a sigh that seems far too big for her own body, Cal walks over and sits next to Juliette. Juliette is sitting ramrod straight, every inch of her body screaming at her to not mess this up somehow. Cal’s posture is lax, one leg splayed and one up, a hand on her knee. But Juliette knows her, knows that Calliope is timing her breathing and knows that her heart is racing. She knows that every muscle in her posture is tense and ready to spring, to fight or flee. Every brush of shoulder against Juliette’s is intentional, a silent message that Calliope was letting this happen. She was letting Juliette be this close, letting her touch her. Cal ceded some of that control and it’s driving Juliette slightly mad.

A long stretch of silence comes between the two, where Buddy readjusts himself to be touching both of the girls at once.

“There could be a kind store owner around,” Juliette ventures eventually, “We won’t know until we ask.”

Calliope’s hand finds Buddy’s fur again, burrowing within the layers. “But there’s unkind owners too. If they know there’s a stray hanging around, what’s stopping them from calling animal control? It’s too big of a chance.”

“Is it a risk you’re willing to take?” Juliette asks softly. The words hang in the air, and her fingers brush against Cal’s as they sweep across the dog’s spine. “There could be something good lying within all that risk. All you have to do is reach out and leap for it.”

Calliope is silent long enough for Juliette to turn to her, only to find her eyes staring her dead on. 

“Juliette…” Calliope says, and her tone is almost forlorn. 

“Calliope,” Juliette says, and her tone is almost expectant. The control had swung somehow, like a pendulum. In the span of a few words, it had all gone sliding into Juliette’s hands. Juliette fumbled with it while Cal scrambled for whatever shreds were left.

They sit, out of words to say. Juliette stares into Calliope’s eyes, wishing for the ability to take the girl in front of her apart. To figure out what she needed to say and do to fix what had been broken between them. Every single instinct of hers told her to lurch forward, kiss her, bite her, melt into her frame and become one with her. But Juliette does not. She forces her eyes to stay locked onto Calliope’s, not to wander down to her lips. She aches with the force of staying still.

But she will give Cal this. If nothing else, she will not wring her own salvation from Calliope’s hands. She will unwind herself fully and wholly, and put the choice into Calliope’s hands. Something ugly, barren, and true. She will not look away first. 

Calliope breaks the staring contest, looking down at her hands and then getting up. “Um, I should-”

“Yeah,” Juliette says, to save her from having to come up with an excuse. “I should go, too.”

“What if we met here on a different day? Before next Wednesday?” Cal blurts, suddenly all nervous energy. 

Juliette freezes. “That’s outside of the agreement.”

“So?”

“So…nothing! So, nothing,” Juliette says. “When?”

“Saturday?” Cal proposes.

“Yes,” Juliette agrees immediately. “I mean, yeah. That- I can make that work.”

“Cool,” Calliope says. Then again, as if repeating it will make it true, “Cool.”

“Nice,” Juliette says, giving Calliope finger guns. She immediately regrets it, turning on her heel and making her way out of the clearing. 

“Uh, Juliette!” Calliope calls after her. Juliette stops and turns around fully, because of course she does. 

Calliope pauses, out of her depth with the sudden lurch of the pendulum. Juliette doesn’t know who has its chain in their grasp now.

“I’ll- I’ll think about asking, okay?” Cal says.

It takes a moment for the statement to register, and then Juliette is nodding vigorously. “O-okay! Yes! Okay!”
Cal nods again, seeming as unmoored as Juliette in this moment. 

Before she can open her mouth and undo any progress that had somehow come from this interaction, Juliette turns and flees the scene. There’s a skip in her step all the way home. Ben is going to lose his mind.

---

Ben is losing his mind. 

Not only has Juliette brought this wonderful dog into his life, and then refused to let him name him, but she has given his rights to the dog to her ex-girlfriend. 

“You’re so cruel,” He laments, laying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Juliette gives him an unimpressed look, a facial expression she has managed to master in these years knowing him. “Ben,” She says, “It’s not like I’m banning you from seeing him. He still comes to this house often.”

“It’s not the same,” He throws a hand over his eyes.

The bed shifts, and he feels Juliette’s warmth next to him. “Ben,” She says. 

Ben removes his hand and looks at her. She doesn’t look like a vampire. She doesn’t look like a monster, or a devil, or even a particularly mean girl. She looks scared. Unsure. Something fierce and protective surges in Ben for his friend. Their relationship may have turned into rougher waters with reveals of life-changing secrets, but she was still his Juliette. He was always going to be her best friend. 

“Letty,” He says, for lack of anything better. 

“I’m scared,” She says. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Ben wishes he could tell her that she won’t. That Cal loves her, and he’s confident that this entire story will end in puppies and rainbows and family bonding. He doesn’t know what happened to make the fallout of them so nuclear, decimating everything holding them together. So he can’t tell her that. 

He reaches for her hand, threading their fingers together and placing the hands on his chest. “I know,” He says, “And I won’t bullshit you and say there are no stakes here. No pun intended. But you are a kind person, Letty. No matter what happens, I’m always going to be your friend.”

Her gaze softens slightly, and he takes it as a good sign to continue. He places his other hand atop of hers, enveloping her in the warmth of him, hoping to ground her. 

“And as much as I would like to promise that I will kick Calliope’s ass if she breaks your heart,” He continues, “She is scary and much stronger than me. So I will not do that. But I will be here with ice cream and Taylor Swift albums and anything else you need. I promise.”

Juliette laughs wetly, moving their hands so she can lean onto him. His shirt feels wet with tears, and he wishes this was easier on all of them. They deserved an easy love.

“What would I do without you?” She says.

Ben presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You would be significantly more miserable.”

She laughs again. “Yeah,” She agrees. 

They lay like that for a while longer, before Ben eventually asks, “Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Can we lay like this?” Juliette asks after a moment of consideration. “This is fine. I like this.”

Ben swallows and there’s something thick in his throat. He wants to say more, wants to assure her that they take care of each other, and wants to joke that when Calliope and Juliette get married that he gets to be this dog’s weird uncle figure.

“Of course, Letty,” He says instead, for lack of anything better, “Anything you want.”

---

Either Calliope is a grade A idiot or Juliette is some sort of manifestation of every love god to ever exist rolled into one. That’s the only plausible explanation for why Calliope keeps letting her get closer and closer despite all she’s done to destroy her and her family. 

Logically, Cal knows, yes, that Juliette’s actions were a mistake. Something she regretted deeply. A quiet voice that wrapped around Cal’s heart to prevent it from going as cold as it needed it to be cooed at her late at night that Juliette was just a victim, just acting out of some misplaced desire to be loved. But ultimately, Cal’s brother was still a vampire, loose and roaming. All of the hurt had to fall somewhere, and it was like all that was between Cal and Juliette made for a perfect landing. 

Even at the beginning, at the very beginning, Calliope had known that this would end badly. It was the only way it could end. There was no happy ending here for the two of them, and yet still Calliope took the leap. It could have been avoided, but Juliette was just so easy to love, so easy to trip and stumble and collide their universes together. The choice was put in her hands again and again, and she kept going to Juliette.

So who could blame her when she makes the choice to break whatever stalemate she had put them into, and love Juliette once more?

Her family was going to leave Savannah soon. Not for another handful of weeks. Cook’s death and Theo’s disappearance threw a wrench into all of their plans, and they couldn’t willingly flee without looking like suspects. The Guild could pull as many strings as they wanted to, but the townspeople knew the Burns. They were already convinced Calliope was a vampire, and running does nothing but amplify the guilt. She didn’t want to be chased by more hunters. 

She wanted to find Theo, but that was something else entirely.

Now, she stands in front of a store. It was one of the ones that created the small boxed area that Calliope was quickly beginning to think of as a haven. She had done enough research on these store owners, some borderline cyberstalking to make sure she was going into this as well prepared as she could be. She searched up the owners' media, past jobs, anything that could help her gauge what type of person the shopkeepers were. 

It led her here, to a nice flower shop. Promising enough, owned by a woman who had a history of donation to local animal shelters. Calliope braced herself, walking in. 

The woman gave her a passing glance as Cal entered, and Cal offered her a small wave to which the woman waved back with a smile. Calliope stalled for time, pretending to browse the rows of nice plants as if she could ever take care of one. Maybe Juliette could, with her gentle touch and soft hands.

This wasn’t about Juliette, though, and Cal had to keep reminding herself. This was about their dog. Her own mind was a fickle thing, trying to keep leading her back to Juliette. Years of training her mind to be razor sharp and quick to the punch seemed to fly out the window with anything where Juliette was concerned. 

Calliope couldn’t stall forever, though, and she would rather initiate the conversation than be caught in it. 

The woman was pouring over the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. Her hair was black, but there was gray beginning to show at her roots and temples. Her skin was a light brown but her dark eyes were clear when she glanced up. She looked up as Cal approached, smiling amicably. 

“How can I help you?” She asked.

“Hi,” Cal started. She bit the inside of her lip and wondered fleetingly if Juliette’s social awkwardness was contagious.

This isn’t about Juliette.  

“I was wondering if it would be possible if you had some sort of hose or some way to fill up a tub of water?” Cal continued. The woman’s gaze was confused, so she pressed on. “There’s this pet that I need to bathe, and the area behind the stores in this lot is a great place to do it. We- I just need the water to do it.”

“We?” The woman asks, and it startles Cal that out of everything she just said the woman latches onto the one collective pronouns. 

“Me and my…” Girlfriend? Ex? Vampire? Worst enemy? Target? “...Friend. The dog isn’t ours exactly, but she really wants to give him a bath and I just can’t say no to her.”

Some emotion flits through the woman’s eyes and Cal barrels forward, “If you want me to pay you, or something, we can do that. All it is just filling a tub of water, really. Only once, too. I’m leaving town in a few weeks and I want to do this for her, even though I really shouldn’t be, because we had a falling out. But I don’t want to leave her on bad terms and we’ve just ended up rekindling whatever we had with this dog as like a barrier and I don’t want to lose it so soon when it’s right there even though I shouldn’t even be giving her the time of day; she’s just so caring for this dog and I like this dog too, and it would mean a lot to the both of us if we were able to give him one bath and it would be a good opportunity for us to talk more even though I’m the one who keeps ending our conversations. It’s just that…”

The woman is staring at her entirely blankly. 

“It’s fine if you can’t,” Cal says, hoping at the very least that her disaster lesbian speech would invoke a sense of pity from the woman to not snitch on them. 

“This means a lot to you,” The woman says. 

“Kind of,” Cal deflects.

She smiles, and it isn’t a mocking grin but a fond thing. “How about this: you buy one spider plant, and you give it to this girlfriend of yours, and I’ll let you bathe this dog behind my store. Is he that black stray that wanders around sometimes?”

“Yes,” Cal says, opting not to mention that Juliette is not her girlfriend, and she doesn’t think that Juliette will even accept the plant. 

“I was wondering when someone was going to take care of him. I’m just glad it’s someone as kind enough as you and her,” The woman taps her pencil on the desk and straightens up. 

“Thank you so much for this,” Cal breathes. “You’re not going to tell a lot of people, are you?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” The store owner says, “And feel free to bathe him as much as you want. As long as you keep buying stuff from me as you do so.”

Calliope nods, and makes a mental note to pick up a few books about caring for houseplants.

---

Cal feels small sitting with a spider plant in a nice ceramic pot in her hands, next to a full metal tub, casted in a shadow that the sun was steadily eating away. 

She can count on one hand the amount of times she has let herself sit and feel this small, and all of the other situations had much dire stakes than this one. Especially considering that the outcome of this situation was set in stone already. There were few things that could go wrong here, to the point where her brain, already set to escalate every situation she can as much as she can, has run out of terrible situations to torture her with. 

She’s waiting for Juliette and Buddy, but they’re running late. Cal places the plant down near her, hugging her knees to her chest. If Juliette stood her up for some unknown reason, Cal would have no one to blame but herself. The other shoe dropped, finally, then. Calliope has been betrayed, experiencing the typical teen breakup made worse by supernatural baggage. Maybe she could convince her parents to flee from Savannah faster, make up a tie, bribe someone high up to wipe the Burns name from ever existing in this town with its fancy rich vampires who stole your heart and crushed it with such a gentle hand you couldn’t even be mad at them-

Her phone chimes. 

She picks it up, looking and praying that it isn’t her parents calling her home. It’s Juliette, though. 

Sorry! The message reads, Ben wanted to come along and I told him he couldn’t. And then I needed to figure out what shampoo to buy for Buddy and decided to pick up a few more things but didn’t want to get the wrong things for him so I was sucked into a conversation with a pet store employee but he kept asking questions about Buddy I couldn’t really answer and it was really awkward. I’m on my way now!

Cal could kick herself for being overdramatic.

“I think you gave me your anxiety,” She immediately accuses Juliette 10 minutes later, when the girl and dog come strutting into the alley 

Juliette laughs, and something in Cal flips like it always does. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I get so worried now, I’m like you. You’re a bad influence on me,” Cal says, standing up. 

Juliette laughs again, and it’s enough to warrant a smile from Cal. She can’t even find it within herself to be mad at it. 

“Well, I’m sorry for giving you my awkwardness and anxiety,” Juliette says, not sounding sorry at all. “What’s with the plant?”

Cal stoops down to pick up the item, sparing a few moments to give Buddy some pets. “Well,” Calliope says, “In exchange for the water the nice woman who owns the plant shop said I have to buy a spider plant and…” And give it to you, my girlfriend. “And so because I don’t want it, I’m giving it to you.”
Half of her expects Juliette to politely decline, not to light up and snatch the plant so fast it takes Cal a moment to process what happened. 

“Oh!” Juliette says, holding it like it is the most precious jewel. “You know, I’ve always kind of wanted a plant. If I wasn’t allowed pets, then plants were second best, but I didn’t know how to ask for one. I didn’t want to commit to one and also I was worried that my parents would see it as me trying to work my way up to a plant but now because I’m almost an adult I think they’ll let me keep this!”

Cal blinks and then nods slowly. “I’m glad you like it. You seem like a plant girl.”

Juliette points an accusatory finger. “If I end up as one of those plant moms with 50 different succulents I’m going to start blaming you for putting me down this path.”

Calliope holds up her hands defensively. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll be a great plant mom. You’ll probably name all 50 succulents.”

“Oh, I should think of a name for this!”

“You,” Cal says, placing her hands over Juliette’s and lowering the plant from where it sits between them, “should bathe our dog with me.”

Juliette blinks, and Cal takes back her hands. “Right,” Juliette says, immediately after, “yes, the reason we’re here.”

She laughs, nervously, and Cal bites her lip. 

“Okay,” She says, turning on her heel to Buddy in a way to break the tension. “I got us the water. All we need is for Buddy to be willing.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Juliette says, reaching down into the water and sprinkling some over the hound. He looks up, as if confused, but doesn’t try to get away when Juliette proceeds to do it again. 

“Help me get him in the tub?” Cal asks.

“Of course,” Juliette says.

The two both pick up the dog, hands overlapping each other and clinging to fur and skin as they slowly lower Buddy into the bin. To their mutual surprise, the dog immediately tries to jump out again, kicking a spray of water into Calliope’s face while Juliette cries out in surprise. The dog trots away into the sunlit areas to lay down, satisfied with himself. Calliope is left blinking water out of her eyes as it trickles down her face, giving Juliette an unimpressed stare as the vampire clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. 

Juliette composes herself enough to turn to where the pup had gone. “Buddy! You get back here!”

Buddy, loyal only to a certain point, pointedly stays laying there. 

Juliette gets up and walks over to the dog, but he doesn’t go quietly into that dark night. He leaps to his feet and immediately bounds away from her. Juliette squawks in surprise before running after, leading to a full bound chase around the small area. Cal would help if not for the fact she was too busy laughing at the scene. Juliette running around all in her preppy clothes, chasing after a half-wet stray. Their stray, their dog. 

Cal only laughs louder when Buddy pauses long enough to shake out his coat, flinging water all over Juliette’s lower body. She gasps in shock and sends a betrayed glance to Cal, who can’t find it in herself to pause her giggles. 

“Help me!” Juliette finally demands of her, and Cal pushes herself to her feet to join in on the chase.

Between a vampire and a monster hunter, it takes an embarrassingly long time to corral the dog again. He’s agile and smaller than the both of them, coating them with dust and water from where he skids to a stop, tail wagging and tongue lolling before rocketing off again. 

When they finally manage to get him into the tub again, Cal has to lean forward and hold onto him to make sure he won’t bolt once more. Juliette works with a quick and careful efficiency, but the two girls both keep laughing when they catch each other’s eye, remembering the frantic scramble for the dog. Buddy had kicked up a fuss when they finally got him into the water again, and continuously shook out his coat despite the water and soap clinging to it. 

Water and sweat trails down Juliette’s jawline from her temple, moving slowly and tantalizingly, like a lover’s finger. Calliope keeps looking at it, fascinated with how the rivulets will slide down her neck and face, down past her collar. 

She swallows heavily, looking at Juliette’s hair. It’s tied up, but the framing pieces are drying in the hot Savannah sun. They curl up more and form small ringlets, something that would fit well around Cal’s fingers.

Juliette’s gaze suddenly locks onto hers, freezing her in place. The moment seems to last a lifetime before Juliette’s mouth is moving, and suddenly Calliope is being spoken to. 

“I think that’s as good as he’ll get,” She’s saying, “Can you get the towel ready? If he just goes running like that while he’s all wet it’ll all be for nothing.”

Cal nods, snapping out of her reverie. She brings up the fluffy towel that Juliette also brought, insisting that Buddy only deserved the best to be swaddled in. 

The pair coax him out onto a different towel laid out, and Cal pounces, wrapping the furry dog in his soft prison. He doesn’t even struggle, but lets Cal rub him dry. His fur sticks up wildly, much to Juliette’s frustration it seems from all her tsk-ing and trying to comb the tufts down with her fingers. 

When Cal finally lets up, satisfied, Buddy shakes anyway. The damage is much less catastrophic than it was, but Calliope still finds herself wiping away dog bath water from her face. Free, Buddy zooms around the area again. After a few minutes he lays down in the sun, ultimately disappointed that the two girls weren’t giving chase again. 

“Well,” Juliette says, “We tried, at least.”

Cal nods, moving over to the wall to sit against. Her clothes stuck to her skin in places, and she kept having to move her hair out of her face. Juliette makes her way over, sinking down close enough to Calliope that their shoulder’s touch. 

“I think he’s better off now, at least,” Cal says. “Seems happier.”

“He did not like being bathed,” Juliette comments. 

“At least we know now. We’re more prepared.”

“We’ll have to bring a cavalry next time.”

Calliope laughs at that, giving Juliette a look and receiving a soft smile.

“So, was it worth the risk?” Juliette says, eyebrows raising expectantly.

Part of Calliope wants to fight, to argue just for argument's sake. To drag up dozens of different contrasts between the situations that Juliette is trying to parallel. 

She shrugs, instead. “I suppose it was.”

Juliette is close now, leaning into Calliope like she was molded to be there. Cal could just bring up one arm and wrap it around the vampire, pulling her flush against her. Give her ample opportunity to hurt her again and again and trust that she won’t. 

“I meant it,” Juliette whispers, because it seems she cannot let sleeping dogs lie. “I mean it. I will never hurt you, I swear.”

There’s a sliver of a second that feels like Cal’s entire world is collapsing in on itself for the millionth time. Every time she expects it to hurt less, it doesn’t. She leans back, her side cold from where it was pressed against Juliette. 

“You have, though,” Calliope says. It’s physical, the way she revokes the right to her heart. The way she brings her knees to her chest and her hand drifts down to her belt where she can have whatever weapon of defense she wants. 

“It was an accident-” Juliette starts, desperate, pleading with Calliope to believe her.

That isn’t the problem, though. “I know,” Cal says, watching Juliette flinch with it, “I know it was an accident. That’s not the point, Juliette. The point is that it hurts anyway. The point was that we could never keep those promises we made. We’re two scorpions, and it’s in our nature. That’s the whole point.”

“That’s not the point,” Juliette argues. “The point was never to love with tragedy in mind. It was to love- it was to love! Just love, isn’t that enough? Doesn’t it all come back to that? Doesn’t it all come back to us? Everything I have done, realizing it or not, in my life, was done around you and your absence. Everything before and everything after and everything during, all of it will be for you whether I want it to or not. All of it, for you, for my parents, for Elinor, and for Oliver. Don’t sit there and tell me that you don’t love me, don’t sit there and tell me that everything you do isn’t for those you love.”

Cal stares on at her, apathetic while Juliette is close to tears. 

A pale hand is placed over hers, Juliette’s jaw working as she looks for something to say. 

“Please,” She whispers like a prayer, “Tell me how to fix it.”

Calliope’s hand comes up and tucks a damp piece of hair behind Juliette’s ear. Her hand sweeps down, stilling on Juliette’s neck. She leans in, brushing her lips against Juliette’s for only a split second. They taste of salt and - only if she makes herself believe it - copper.

“There’s nothing,” Calliope whispers as she pulls back. 

She doesn’t let herself leave until she can see Juliette’s heart break in her eyes. She doesn’t deserve that mercy on herself.

---

They go back to the schedule. For the next two weeks, at least. It’s like Juliette’s own personal hell. 

Their interactions are stiff, stilted, and kept short. Juliette has learned, finally, to back off. Maybe this entire thing could have been avoided if she had learned to back off before. It’s something Elinor was right about, in the end. If she had just been a normal vampire then she never would have grown so attached to Calliope, never so cloying and suffocating. So wrapped up in what she didn’t want to be or do, she never considered the fact that she was smothering with love. All of her paths led to blood.

Worst of all were the dreams, every night. She trekked home, lying through her teeth to her parents, to Ben, to everyone. In a sense, it was her who backed herself into this corner. She did it to her. Collapsing into her bed nightly led to a recurring nightmare, where she was sitting on a beach. The sea is a dark red, and bodies float through the water. A fitting monster’s lair.

What’s most concerning is that Juliette is sure that somewhere Calliope is here. It is the only way to describe how she’s been having the same dream for two weeks straight. It has to mean more than just a dream, but she’s too scared to look at the bodies. Too afraid of what she would find; so, she stares at her reflection in the bloody water until she cannot recognize herself. 

Tonight, though, the dream drags on. The red water laps at her gently, as if coaxing. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, forehead resting on them. Her eyes are squeezed shut, wondering if it was possible to disappear within her own dream. Walk into the ocean and see what will happen. Was that the only way to stop this? To not be a monster anymore?

Maybe Juliette was wicked to the core. Maybe it wasn't vampirism. It was just her.

“It took me forever to find you,” A familiar voice rings out. 

Juliette pauses, entire body coiling up defensively before she lifts her head to look at the girl. 

Calliope is walking along the shoreline, not even bothered by the blood-slash-water hitting her bare feet. 

“Why did you come?” Juliette calls over the sound of the waves.

Cal gives her a weird look. “Of course I was going to come.”

“You shouldn’t have!” Juliette says.

A frown tugs at Calliope’s lips. “Of course I was going to come,” She repeats. “What is this place?

Juliette looks over the sea of bodies and blood. “I don’t know. I think it has to do with me.”

“You? You did this?” Calliope says, finally stilling as she stands next to Juliette’s crouched figure. 

“I- no. Yes. I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure,” Cal says disbelievingly.

“I’m not,” Juliette says, resting her chin on her knees again.

“Okay,” She says, shockingly calm. “You tell me why you think you did this.”

“I- what?”

“Why do you think this is because of you?” Cal’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder.

Juliette peers up at her. “Is this real?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does to me.” She almost reaches up to touch Calliope’s hand, but aborts the movement before she can carry it through. It is almost like she does not have the right here, in this space, to touch her. 

Cal’s thumb sweeps against her neck. “Then, yes. It is real. Juliette, I…”

Juliette waits for the end of the sentence, but it doesn’t come. Calliope stares off into the distance, and Juliette has the urge to ask her a million different questions. Do you see it, Calliope Burns? Can you see what I’ve become and always have been? Do you see how I cannot blame you anymore?

“Tell me why you think you did this,” Cal repeats.

Juliette turns her gaze back to the horizon. “Of course I did this. I’m a…” Monster. Terrible person. I can’t seem to stop hurting people. “...vampire. It’s blood. It’s bodies.”

“You don’t seem like the person who would do this.”

“You don’t think?”

“No, Juliette,” Cal’s hand squeezes her shoulders. “Because I know you. You make a lot of mistakes, but you wouldn’t do this .”

“I’m sorry,” Juliette whispers for the millionth time.

“I know you are,” Cal says. There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry, too.”

“What?”

“For not knowing how to make it better. I wish I could tell you. I wish we could fix this.”

It’s enough to floor Juliette. Enough for her to feel like she’s just been pulled under the crimson water, filling her mouth with its watered down taste. It isn’t as unpleasant as it should be.

When Juliette doesn’t respond, Cal kneels down next to her. Her eyes bore into the side of Juliette’s face, but Juliette refuses to look at her.

“Juliette,” Cal says, “You’ve hurt people. You’ve hurt me . But you aren’t this wretched thing you’ve painted in your head. You’re kind, and you’re easy to love. You’re naive, and quick to snap and act impulsively. You’re not all those horrible things you think about yourself. You’re Juliette, okay? You’re just Juliette.”

Juliette finally tears her gaze away from the gruesome scene, settling into Cal like she always does. “I wanna fix it,” She says softly.

Calliope brushes her hair behind her ears. “I know you do. But you can’t. And we’re both sorry about it. I don’t know if I can love someone I can’t forgive.”

“...But?” Juliette asks, almost hopeful.

“But I am going to try,” Cal says. She leans in, kissing Juliette’s forehead. In that moment, it is the most intimate thing that Juliette has ever experienced. More than messy makeouts in a bedroom or pantry, more than cuddling, arguing, and crying out against a tree. The entire world could end here, and Juliette would still be loved.

“Find me and Buddy when you wake up,” Cal says, a quick promise. Then she is gone, and Juliette’s alone at the beach once more. 

---

“Was that real?” Juliette says, a little over an hour later as she barges into the clearing. 

Calliope is sitting there, cool as a cucumber in the shade. “You mean the dream where I explicitly told you it was real?” She asks, drinking from a water bottle with zero of the haste and anxiety Juliette seems to carry in her bones. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Buddy lets out an indignant noise as he nudges Juliette’s hand, and Juliette finally snaps into action to give him the attention he deserves. “Did you mean it?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Jules,” Cal says, walking up and grabbing one of Juliette’s hands. 

“...Is this a good idea?” Juliette asks, softly. 

Cal’s hand is warm in hers. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” Juliette says, looking up desperately. “Of course I want this, Cal. I want it almost more than anything. But not more than how much I want to not hurt anyone.”

“Juliette,” Cal says, soft and sympathetic. Someone else may have been offended by the pity, but Juliette soaked it up like a sponge. She will eat anything sickly sweet that Calliope hand-feeds her. “I don’t know how to tell you that you are always going to hurt people. It’s trying to be better that makes you forgivable.”

“I just don’t know if I’m…” She bites her lips, stops the sentence. It’s too heavy, like if she speaks the words then suddenly they will be real and true and there will be no more to hide behind. 

“Juliette,” Her voice is calm, commanding. Juliette feels like she is about to shake apart in her steady grip, but is also sure that Cal will pick up the pieces. “Tell me.”

“Was I worth it? The pain I caused?”

“Of course,” Cal’s hands move to cup her face, eyes boring into her own. “Juliette, you have always been worth the things it takes to love you. That’s what the love is, and you are easy to love. You are Juliette, and every good and bad thing that comes with it. And I am choosing to love you.”

Juliette has no words, except for “I love you.”

And so Calliope kisses her, gentle and loving. It is like every other kiss and no other kiss and Juliette does not know what to do with all of this love or her hands. So she places them on Calliope’s waste, and places the love onto Calliope where it always seems to fit. 

A warm body worming its way between the two of them is enough for the two girls to pull back, laughing gently as they realize that Buddy had gotten frustrated at the lack of attention. 

“I think our son is hungry,” Juliette says.

“Our son? ” Cal questions, taking steps back from Juliette. 

“What?” Juliette says, indignantly crossing her arms and laughing. “You were fine with saying we were ‘co-parenting’ him.”

“I cannot handle calling him our son, he’s our dog,” Cal says, laughing as well. “Moment over. Ruined.”

“I can’t believe our son ruined it.”

“Stop it!” Cal playfully cries, moving over to scratch Buddy’s ears. “I want another divorce.”

“No, I refuse to divorce twice,” Juliette says, “Besides, I got Buddy some stuff.”

“Should I be worried?” Calliope asks, raising an eyebrow. She sits down in the shade and Buddy immediately tries to sit in her lap despite his size and Cal’s protests. 

“Relax,” Juliette says, pulling out said stuff, “It’s just some dog toys and dog bowls. Just so we aren’t constantly hand feeding him.”

She puts down the bowls and immediately fills one with water from a water bottle she brought, and Buddy is more than happy to trot over and drink his fill. When he finishes, he shakes out again, flinging water and dog slobber all over Juliette’s legs. 

“Well,” She says, as Cal starts laughing again. 

“Why is it always me?” Juliette says, brushing herself off. 

“You’re the only one who will come close to him with water,” Calliope supplies. And Juliette can’t argue with that. 

The trio settles down after a while, Juliette sitting in the shade with a book while Cal runs around the small area with a dog toy, playing chase with Buddy. It’s sickeningly domestic, and Juliette’s heart swells with it. She wishes, though, that things were better for them. In another universe or another life, maybe they were. In another life, she’s sitting in a backyard, shaded from the Savannah heat and reading this same book. Calliope is running around with the dog in a space large enough for the two of them to run and release the constant energy they both seem to have. Her parents and Cal’s parents would be talking, laughing, cooking. They’d be normal, or at least allowed to exist in the same proximity to one another. Ben would be there, of course, annoying her while she read or complaining about how fast Calliope is as she outruns both him and the dog. 

And it hurts, is the thing, to imagine a life so close but just past her fingertips. If things were just slightly different, they’d be better. But they were good, now, at least. She sits still and safe with the knowledge that there will be times she messes up. When she destroys something again, she will want to be destroyed; she is not absolved of all future crime or sin. But then, Cal will choose to love her. Again, and again, and again. Not helplessly, not bitterly, or coerced. Of course Cal’s love can’t immediately handwave away all of her other problems. There is still the problem of Oliver, of Elinor, of Theo, of their parents, even of trying to keep her plant alive. But she will be loved throughout it, one way or another.

She gave Cal this. Juliette’s salvation was not forced from her hand, was not given to her at all; she was guided to it. Unwound fully and wholly, Calliope gently took the consequences of love from Juliette’s palms and cradled it. Something ugly, barren, and true. And she was chosen anyway.