A/N- I don't own any of these characters. The idea, however, is solely my own, although done at the suggestion of my beloved twin sister and my own twisted brain that never shuts off. So... yeah. Give credit where credit is due.

I dedicate this story to my sister Kira Kei Jinx.

This is my first attempt at this genre but I've watched some of the episodes and hope I get it right. If not, deal with it. Don't tell me the characters are OOC. I know. 'Kay? Good.

This story contains my favorite thing to do to boys. If you don't know what that is, check out my profile. I'm not saying it here cuz it'll ruin the surprise. You've been warned. No flames. Oh, and if my religious facts are a bit off, deal with it and don't comment, 'kay? I'm atheist and haven't been to church in four years. But if you would, message me privately with the accurate details. I do so love to learn about religion. (Ironic, no?)

Enough rambles. And if you like what you read, please comment. Encourages me to write faster.

Please enjoy. Lots of love, Sai-Chan.

He hadn't visited her in over five months. They had fought, yes, but to ignore her for so very long, it wasn't like him. She'd tried calling out his name, but she just received a shock as the door to his world didn't open. Somehow, it'd been turned off. It was as though their friendship had been turned off as well. A switch had been flipped. Instead of seeing his toothy smile when she sobbed his name, she saw her own reflection in the mirror that had served her effortlessly for so many years. For a while, she'd searched her entire house, looking for anything with black and white stripes, swearing up and down that he was merely messing with her and had appeared elsewhere to play hide and go seek. After turning over one of her mother's sculptures and finding nothing, she was forced to face that mirror and her image, not his.

To say she cried would of been the understatement of the year. She had sobbed endlessly, whispering his name over and over and over and over. All that came was nightfall again and again, leaving her lying there in a pool of black stained tears and her own misery. That darkness then consumed her. All she saw was black, the very picture of despair. Her best friend, her closest companion, her Beetlejuice had deserted her. Now she was alone, in her room, in her darkness, for all eternity, until she ultimately died and went on a never ending search of the Neitherworld for her friend. Whether she would find him there, she knew not. But all she knew was that life was no longer worth living. If she couldn't coax him out to her world, she would join him in his.

That's what was going through Lydia's mind as she stood on the rooftop of the highest point of her house, staring at the ground late one night.

But she wasn't going to jump. No. Beetlejuice had told her that those who committed suicide ended up working the desk for the new ghosts who came in looking for answers. She didn't want that. She wanted to go to the Roadhouse and curl up on his bed and await his return from where ever it was he was that was keeping him away from her. So, she wasn't going to jump. She was going to pace the railing and wait for it to break. She had no idea if it would, but she was banking that it would since the house was so very old. Then she would plummet to her death and die of a very tragic accident. She would be committing involuntary suicide, but that was enough to argue her way out of a desk job. After all, she had no real proof she knew the railing would break. It might not. It might. She might slip. She might fall into the attic and live. She might live through the fall. There were too many 'ifs' to be suicide.

She climbed up onto the railing, shaking violently from the cool winds. This was the only way, she knew. If she tried to eat contaminated food, it would be considered suicide or she'd only get very sick. If she tried driving recklessly, she could end up killing someone else and she didn't want that. If she tried messing with weapons, it would be suicide because one had to load the gun and pull a trigger or slit something deeply. If she walked in traffic, someone else could die. If she tried drowning, it would be suicide because the body won't let itself drown. The same with suffocation. If she tried overdosing, it would be suicide because she'd be trying to overdose. If she tried getting someone to kill her, someone else could get hurt or she wouldn't get killed at all and then they would be in trouble anyways. It could also take years.

Her death had to come swift, soon, and without causing anyone else death. It also had to be accidental and purposeful at the same time, with enough doubt that she could get out of that desk job. So, she took another step on the railing. It was iron, but rusty. Bolted to the roof, but loose. Able to support her weight, but hard to walk on. And it was the dead of night. Difficult to see, but not so much that she was walking in the dark. She was just pacing, she told herself, holding out her arms. She'd done this once before and fallen on accident. At the time, however, Beetlejuice had caught her from a very certain death. Thus, she kept repeating in her head that she was just trying to coax him out of hiding. If she wasn't thinking about dying, she wasn't trying to commit suicide. It was just a way to see her best friend and nothing more.

" And nothing more," she whispered to herself as she turned the side. The ground was straight down now, no house to stop her fall, " And nothing more," she repeated, fighting the urge to get down and hug herself. Instead, she just stood there for a moment, gripping at her sleeves, and cried silently.

A cold wind blew and leaves rushed past her, up towards the full moon. Lydia's eyes followed their journey to nowhere, her black make up running in streaks down her pale cheeks. They were lost, alone, being tossed around by elements out of their controls. Quite like herself. Lost without his guiding hand, alone without him, being forced to this by the mess of emotions he'd left inside her when he vanished. Watching them fumble around, she held out her arms, as though to grasp the hope for existence they seemed to have, the trust they had for the wind that took them from their homes. How she longed for that hope, that trust. How she longed to know where it was she was going, how long it would be before she reached it. How she desired to trust herself, trust that her will alone would lead her back to the man who'd loved her like no other, who she loved like no other. Watching the last leaves of the season disappear in the light of an unforgiving moon on that icy night, she felt her heart break and her body go numb. She frantically grabbed at that fleeting hope and trust they left behind.

And suddenly, there was no railing. She was flying, just like they were, swept up by the wind and the moon, being taken to her sanctuary, to her future. Her arms opened wide, her eyes turned up to the glowing moon and the tip of her old home as everything was consumed in the darkest of darknesses.

Death itself.

" Beetlejuice,"

Lydia was gone. She felt it, but didn't feel a thing. She was swallowed in a loving emptiness, still staring at her bare feet as she plummeted endlessly. Her head turned forward, looking back and down into the swirling red and black lights of this tunnel she was dropping through. Only, she wasn't dropping. She knew she was supported by unseen hands, she could feel them as she was taken through the worlds. Weightless and numb, all she could do was smile as a white light swam in front of her eyes and the tunnel began to vanish into that light. Her thoughts disappeared as she was thrown backwards into a pure white world on the other side of the Underworld and the hands let her drop. Her hands embraced the fall, her smile growing as the brightness did.

" Beetlejuice,"

Wind rushed by her as the brightness blinded her and she closed her eyes. When they opened again, she was falling past nothingness. There was no light, no darkness, nothing but the emotions that had consumed her throughout her life. She remembered things she'd never known she'd forgotten and knew all that she had been feeling when those things had happened. She was surrounded by this and cried out silently, her body tightening. But then it was gone and the nothingness pasted to everything. She was surrounded by all her memories, devoid of sound. They flashed by too quick to see, but she knew in her heart that she knew what she was seeing. Then she felt hands wrapping around her waist and she was pulled through a hole at the end of her memories. She hugged herself, drawing her legs close to her stomach, as what seemed to be water splashed all around and then fire dried it out as wind wrapped her up tight and then there was solid ground once more. Everything turned upside down, right side up, and her chest burst, her heart exploded, her head burned, and voices ran over her body like blood.

" Beetlejuice,"

The ground flipped, she was right side up again, and her eyes fluttered open. Lydia lay crumpled on the ground, but it was not outside her house. Instead, she saw dark wooden furniture and knew not where she was. Slowly, she sat up and drew her legs close. Bars were on the windows and doors, barely glowing blue. A clock with a countdown was mounted on the wall, marking three and a half months and so many hours, minutes, and seconds. A kitchen was to her right and a hallway was near it. A black couch was behind her, along with a wooden coffee table. To her left was someone with a shocked, but amused expression on his white face.

" Oh my God!! It worked!!" she exclaimed, hurrying to her feet. A wash of sickness ran over her, causing her to stumble and collapse in his outstretched arms. She smiled up at him, " I never thought I'd see you again, Beetlejuice..."

" What're you doing here, Lyds?" he demanded, steadying her. She looked confused, shaking her head, and standing on her own.

" I died... and I wished to be with you... aren't you happy to see me?" her voice shook uncontrollably, her hands grasping at her red gown. He drew back slightly, but didn't answer her question, " Why didn't you come when I called you? I didn't mean it when I said I never wanted to see you again! Surely you didn't think I was being se-"

" Babe! Are you kidding? I tried," Beetlejuice assured her, covering her mouth before she could say another word, " But... y'know... I was imprisoned and everything, so, uh, getting there was a bit of a problem,"

" Imprisoned?! For what!"

" Oh, this and that,"

" Beetlejuice," she hissed, hands on her hips. He tugged on the collar of his jacket, clearly considering whether or not to tell her. After not seeing him do something so, well, him for five months, however, her anger quickly vanished. Instead, she just hugged him tight, burying her face in his chest, and giggling when she heard no heart beat. Now she had none either and that meant she could be with him, imprisoned or otherwise.

" Babe?" he didn't push her off, even though he sounded a bit annoyed. Instead, he ran his red tipped fingers through her messy raven hair that spilled over her gown, " Eighteen and you're still a clingy thing,"

" I missed you so much," was all she whispered as she raised up and kissed him sweetly on the lips. She tasted death and found it such a satisfying taste that she drew his curvy body closer. Her hands gently touched the collar of the suit she'd seen him wear for so many years. That gentle touch soon died, though, as one of his hands touched her lower back. Her nails dug into the cloth, her eyes shutting slowly.

The two ghosts embraced fittingly for their separation. Lydia jerked his chest to hers, making her swell of breasts squish. Beetlejuice held her steady on her tippy-toes as he gripped her black hair around his fingers. She could taste old death, he could taste new death. Years divided their ages, life had divided their lives, but death brought them closer then any moment on Earth ever could. Thus, in that barred, foreign prison, the two kissed as deeply and passionately as any two could. There was nothing that could put a stop to the love that flowed out of that moment as she tried to draw him closer then was physically possible. He allowed her to try, tilting her head to one side.

As Lydia slipped her tongue into his mouth, her hands drifted south. He ran fingers over the small of her back and she gasped into the kiss, mouth wide open. His snakelike tongue curled around hers playfully as her fingers began to unbutton the jacket he always wore. She felt the soft flesh of his stomach and felt herself giggling, her cheeks flushing red. His hands caressed her neck while she eased her arms under the jacket. She squeezed hard, their waists pushed together, and the jacket ran over her bare shoulders, forcing him to lean down into the kiss. Her back arched, her nails dug into his back, and his hands held her like that by one pushing hard into the small of her back, the other at the back of her neck.

That's when she felt it. Movement. Against her stomach. From inside Beetlejuice. That felt almost like kicking.

Her eyes snapped opened right before he jerked away from her. For a moment, she just stared as he cringed and buttoned his jacket over his curved middle, which, she noticed at that moment, was bigger then the last time she'd seen him those many months ago. The way he smoothed out his clothes was different as well, much more cautious then normal. Usually, if he straightened his clothes at all, he just roughly adjusted it. Now he ran his fingers over the fabric with the upmost care. That alone made her eyes narrow in suspicion, not to mention how big he'd gotten and the fact that she'd felt movement only seconds beforehand. It didn't seem possible, but there was only one logical explanation for such a dramatic change in his attitude.

" Beetlejuice... what was your punishment for whatever it was that you did when we fought?" her voice was steady, her composure calm. The fact that she managed to pull that off frightened herself more then it did the ghost in front of her.

" Uh... that judge said 'You shall suffer the greatest wrath of God', right before he locked me up in here," he said, avoiding looking at her magnificently well considering she wasn't even a foot away. Lydia covered her mouth in shock, her eyes widening as her brain rushed into overdrive.

'The greatest wrath of God' could mean only one thing. The punishment He'd given to Eve for corrupting Adam and eating the fruit for the tree in the garden of Eden. To be banished and given the agony of child birth. If her assumption was correct, and she was sure it was, then Beetlejuice had been banished from the Neitherworld and impregnated for whatever it was he had done. What he had done remained to be seen and how he had been impregnated alluded her, but she was certain this was the greatest wrath of God.

" What did you do?!"

" Uh... accidently destroyed half the Neitherworld with information I stole on accident while trying to um... destroy Mayor Maynot for giving me that punishment that prevented me from seeing you for so long that it started a fight between us?" he laughed a little, waving it off. When he saw her face, on the other hand, he got an annoyed look on his face, " What?!"

" And... and... y-you're... p-p-pregnant?" she stuttered out, pointing at his stomach. He coughed, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

" Yup,"

" How?!"

" Lots of weird shit happens in the Neitherworld, Babe. It's neither here nor there and I can either be male or female... or both..." he shrugged finally, " Crazier things have happened. Like yer being here,"

" I died. It's only normal I'd end up in the Neitherworld. B-but... you... you're... oh, Beetlejuice! You've certainly outdone yourself!" she gasped, turning away. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she stumbled back into him. He caught her as she put a hand to her head, " I can't believe I died for t-this..."

With that, Lydia's world went black once more. The last thing she heard was Beetlejuice shouting her name. Then there was nothing and she wasn't sure if she felt better that way or not. All she knew was that she was dead, trapped in a banished home somewhere in the depths of hell, and the man of her morbid dreams was imprisoned and pregnant. And all because she'd gone and gotten mad about not seeing him for a week. Even in death, she gave herself a headache.

Bwhahahaha. I'm so bad. But, I couldn't help myself. Sorry. No flames. You were warned.

Reviews are highly welcomed.

That's all.