Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. I hope to blazing blue heavens that I've made this clear by now, because I'm a wimp in public. I'd shrivel on the witness stand, if I got sued. It's not really a nice way to repay someone for just loving what you've done with your movie… Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, and all that.

Regardless, this being said, this particular story isn't really even about Beetlejuice. It's about Lydia. So what I should be saying is… I don't own Lydia Deetz. Everyone knows that the only one with any kind of hold on her, is Beetlejuice. And since I don't own Beetlejuice… Well, we could pursue this circle of logic for hours.

Just take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this, and enjoy.

--

Lydia didn't see what the big deal was. All the other girls in her class were going crazy over some scary movie she hadn't been allowed to see, but from what she understood, it was just about ghosts. What in the world was so scary about ghosts? Her two best friends in the world were ghosts!

They were all talking amongst themselves anyway, they probably didn't even notice she was off to the side, listening. Not that she could hear much. The movie was a forbidden topic to someone their age, and they were only talking about it in hushed whispers, terrified of being overheard. Even more scared than they'd been of the movie itself, apparently.

Then she looked up, the girl with perfect blonde hair, perfect teeth, and perfect blue eyes. When she saw Lydia there, eavesdropping, the Deetz girl could have sworn she saw something evil cross that gaze. "Lydia…" She practically purred it, moving over to make a space beside her. "You saw the movie, right? I mean, you must love that kind of thing, you being a freak and all…"

Lydia had not, in fact, seen the movie. Nor was she about to admit to it. Instead she moved away from the small group, determined not to make eye contact. Rather, she regarded the pattern of tile on the floor with some intensity. She swore though, that she was followed by laughter.

The rest of the school day went pretty much like this, with Claire Brewster trying to lure her into some tangle of words or another, and dogging her heels at every turn. She had no appetite at all at lunch, and was doomed to regret it by the last hour, just before school got out. Her stomach felt like it was killing her…

I hope Barb has a snack for me, she reflected glumly. All this fuss over a stupid ghost movie… What was it called again? She honestly couldn't remember. Hauntings of something or other. What a stupid name. What kind of idiot would be scared of ghosts, anyway?

Her father was waiting as the last bell rang, and she headed out of the school with something like relief. Now she could go home. Where things made sense. Where they were normal…

"Oops!" A solid blow, hitting her in the middle of her back, sent Lydia face first into the ground. She skinned both her hands on the sidewalk, and bit her lip on a yell. She wouldn't give Claire Brewster the satisfaction of hearing her yell. "Sorry Deetz, didn't see you there! Could you be any more unnoticeable?" She continued on her way with a twisted little smile, clearly delighted.

Lydia supposed she must have hit her with her book bag. Only she could make that look like it had been an accident… When she looked up, her father still stood there at the side of the road, watching her. Not rushing to help her to her feet, but letting her preserve what little dignity she had left. She felt a rush of gratitude towards him. Her mother would have made the worst scene…

She stood, slowly, and instinctively went to wipe her hands off on her skirt. And instantly regretted it. That wasn't just dirt on her palms, after all… She managed a shaky smile, and continued on her way down the walk, trying not to limp. It felt like she'd twisted her ankle too. "Hey, dad." She greeted him smally, embarrassed that he'd seen that.

Her father had a thoughtful look on his face, and immediately reached for her hands, showing his concern now that she was no longer the center of everyone's attention. "That would be that Claire Brewster girl, you told Barbara about." He guessed softly. Lydia squirmed a little. "Well, put some peroxide on them when you get home, I think you'll be fine."

They did not drive home, as most of her fellow students did. Her father liked to walk, and had said many times that she would never regret walking an extra mile now, when she was older. Since it was just a couple of miles, which admittedly had been a lot when she was younger, she took it all in stride now. She could walk further than anyone she knew, and it made her proud.

His hand, gently on her shoulder, steering her to the inside of the curb, keeping himself beside the street, was a warm reminder that he protected her. She liked watching him when they walked together, because he always looked more relaxed out here, than he did at home. She didn't yet understand why, but she knew that it was sometimes hard for him, being at home.

"You could have told me, you were having problems." He interjected suddenly, sounding a little upset by this. "Barbara and Adam aren't the only ones you can turn to." He gave her a little glance. "I am your father. I care about what happens to you too."

Lydia nodded, fidgeting again. But if she told her father, and not her mother, she'd be playing favorites. And there was no way she was telling her mother. Adam and Barbara…? They were safe. They couldn't embarrass her in public. They couldn't even leave the house. She actually thought that was a little sad… "I know." She said aloud, finally realizing he was still watching her. "You're my dad." She grinned up at him. "You're crazy about me!"

And her dad smiled, one of those rare smiles that he seemed to save for her alone. "Don't you forget it." He reminded her sternly, before giving her shoulder a little extra squeeze. Then, looking ahead again, he said, almost off-handedly, "What was she bothering you about today?"

Oh. Right. Lydia scowled. "Some scary movie she saw. Mom says I can't see it." She shook her head, black locks bouncing around her face. "It sounds stupid anyway. It's supposed to have scary ghosts in it, or something." She fixed her father with a matter-of-fact look. "Ghosts aren't scary."

"Hmm." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his mouth set in a slight frown. "Well, there are scary ghosts, sweetheart. Just like there are scary people." Lydia continued to watch him dubiously, not believing it. "Not that I've ever met any scary ghosts, exactly… But your mom has."

This piqued Lydia's interest, and she stopped, staring up at him. "Really?" She was a little surprised her mom hadn't mentioned it. But then, her mom wasn't scared of anything… "Who?"

"Ah…" He cleared his throat, and found anywhere else to look. "I don't remember. You probably shouldn't mention it to her though. Kind of a sore point." Lydia was the one frowning now, watching him. He was lying. Only her father never lied…

It must be important. One of those things she was supposed to ask about when she was older. She hated those. "Okay." She allowed grudgingly, walking again. "But I mean, if there are scary ghosts, why can't I see the movie?"

"Because it's scary." He pointed out, a little more sternly now. "Just because your friends enjoyed it…"

Lydia shook her head quickly, scowling. "I don't have any friends." She muttered, kicking at a loose stone.

This caught her father's attention, and he looked at her in concern. "That can't be true," He protested, "You must have at least a couple friends…" She shook her head, not looking at him, wishing she could take back the words. "Well, who do you sit with at lunch?"

"Nobody." She admitted softly, before looking at him with a forced smile. "But Barb and Adam are my friends, so it's okay. Right? Ghosts are better than real people anyway…"

Her father continued to stare at her, something truly troubled passing his gaze. When he spoke though, he said nothing of it. Instead he just asked, "What was that movie you wanted to watch, honey?"

--

The movie, despite all Lydia's desires to believe otherwise, was scary. The popcorn sat to the side, utterly untouched since ten minutes into the movie, and she held onto her father's arm for dear life through the rest. She kept telling herself though, that everything would be all right in the end. Movies always had happy endings.

Only this one didn't. Lydia sat in her seat, frozen, wide eyes staring up at the words scrolling across the screen. She hadn't known things like that existed. People dying, so much blood… And those ghost things! They weren't ghosts, they were… She didn't have a word for them. The words continued to scroll up the screen. The popcorn remained untouched. Lydia wasn't sure she was breathing.

"Honey?" At her father's voice, his real world voice, Lydia flinched, and drew back from him like she'd been burned. Her eyes were wild as she turned to face him, still having trouble accepting that the movie was over, and everything was okay now. His face was grim, and he looked angry with something. Maybe because now, with the lights on, he could see how scared she really was. She hadn't made a sound through the whole thing. "Oh Lydia…"

When he reached for her though, she drew away, standing. "I want to go home now." She said softly. He hesitated, looking like he still wanted to comfort her, and was somehow angrier than she'd ever seen him. At himself. "I want to see Adam and Barb." Her voice sounded hollow. She almost didn't recognize it as her own.

Her father drew his fingers across his mouth, frowning, and finally nodded. She wanted to see Adam and Barb. Of course. Damn, Olivia was going to kill him… "Okay honey," He agreed, his tone somehow defeated, "We'll go see Adam and Barb."

What the hell had he been thinking? Damn it…

--

Barbara hugged the little girl to her chest, hard, absolutely furious with her father. Not that even she would have wished Olivia on him… She could hear the yelling all the way in the attic, and they were at least two floors before. Most of the actual words were lost on her, but she swore that at one point, she did hear Edmond's voice clearly.

"Because she's alive, goddamnit! She needs to be around living people…" This made little sense to the woman, but she could only assume he'd been trying to drive a wedge between his little girl and them, by giving her such a scare. A seed of something really hot burrowed into her chest at this. Did he really think he could scare her away from them?

Her attention turned abruptly to the eight-year-old in her arms, who was looking up with wide eyes, well aware that all the trouble centered around her, and deeply shaken. But for the moment, all she asked, was, "There aren't really ghosts like that… right? The movie was lying…"

Barbara's memory flashed to a certain bioexorcist, and she grimaced. But even Beetlejuice hadn't been that bad… exactly. "The movie was lying, honey." She agreed softly. Not that she really knew it was true, her experience with other ghosts still being pretty limited. "Besides, you know that Adam and I would never let anything hurt you…"

"Uh-huh." She sounded relieved, but there was something, different to her voice. Not quite relieved enough. Still scared. "Barb? If it's not ghosts that do that… Is it something else?"

She didn't exactly have an answer for that one. But for now, a lie would do. "Of course not," She swore softly, "It was just a story. A really, really stupid story. Your dad never should have taken you." And here she gave her an extra squeeze. The girl was going to have horrible nightmares tonight, she just knew it…

A long pause, and then softly, "I'm not scared of you and Adam, Barb." She pushed back a little, meeting her eyes at this. Her gaze had never been more serious. "You're my best friends. You'd never hurt me."

Barbara felt a mingling of grief that the girl would ever feel the need to say this, and gratitude that she had. "You," She informed her with a smile, stroking her hair, "Have to be the bravest girl I've ever known."

Despite herself, Lydia smiled at this. "Braver than mom?" She teased, certain that this couldn't be true.

"Much, much braver." Barbara agreed, straight-faced, before breaking out in a smile. "Now, stories are just stories, you know that, right?" Lydia nodded, settling her head back into the groove of Barbara's shoulder. "And there's no reason to be afraid of stories that someone just made up, right?"

"Right." Lydia echoed aloud, softly. She already felt better. How could she not? Barbara was better by a thousand times than any of those stupid girls at school… Better even than her mom, though she'd never admit it. She took a deep breath, breathing in the woman's smell. She swore she smelled like fresh air, and cookies. That reminded her. "I'm hungry…" She said suddenly, drawing back away.

Her friend smiled, looking relieved. That had to be a good sign… "I'll make some spaghetti," She offered, setting the girl down gently, "That's your favorite, right?" She wrinkled her nose at her. "I'll make the sauce from scratch!"

Lydia beamed up at her, delighted at this rare treat. She was already forgetting what had prompted this special dinner… For the moment, anyway.

--

Spaghetti… Lydia stared at the loops and curls, and the stains of red, and globs of meat, with a newfound sense of unease. It was her favorite food in the world, and Barb had made it especially for her. But now, looking at it, all she could think of was the movie. "What's wrong, sweetie?" Barbara smiled at her from across the table. "I thought you were hungry?"

I was hungry… Lydia poked her fork into the tangled mess, half expecting it to scream, move, something. But it just lay there. Still. Dead. She twirled it slowly around her fork, and lifted it to her mouth, trying to think of anything else.

But it was good. A grin broke across her face as her appetite returned in a rush. She attacked the meal with abandon, chewing and slurping and swallowing, and never quite banishing the image she'd had from the movie a moment before. Strangely though, now, it seemed kind of fun.

Staring at her empty plate, she wondered for a moment how she it had come to be this way so quickly, only belatedly realizing that approximately half of it had ended up on her face. She grimaced… Then grinned. She looked like something from the movie now, for real…

"Okay honey," Her mother interjected, something still very terse to her voice, "Go clean up now. Next time though, try to get it in your mouth without making a mess?" Her father said nothing at all, just staring at his own nearly untouched food.

Lydia jumped up, and raced up the stairs at all speeds, heading for the bathroom. Red soon stained the sink, as she gave her face a thorough washing, brushed her teeth, and then greeted herself with a broad smile in the mirror. A scene flashed across her mind briefly, of one of the people in the movie seeing someone other than themselves look back

She banished the thought with a frown. It was just a movie. It wasn't real.

Still somehow deflated, she walked a little more slowly to her room, pausing completely when she reached the door. She didn't remember the darkness being ever quite so… dark before. A little shudder traced her spine. I'm just imagining things… She flicked the light on, and instantly her room was bathed in a warm, soft glow. There. That was better.

The closet however, was a place of new, fresh horror, as there was no light to soften its depths, and she hesitated just a breath shy of it before diving in, and grabbing the first pajamas her hand came in contact with. Feety pajamas. She hadn't worn those in about a year. She could honestly care less.

She shut the door to her closet firmly, and retreated, keeping her eye on it the whole time. Not that there was anything in there. Not that she was scared. She just didn't want to be surprised.

Lydia cast a long glance around her room, which suddenly felt devastatingly empty, before getting dressed, and climbing in bed. She didn't turn off the light first. She wasn't ready to be in the dark just yet. But likewise, after lying there only a few minutes, she found she wasn't ready to go to sleep yet either.

Rising again, she went to her dresser for some paper, which she always kept in the corner of the top drawer. Maybe she'd draw awhile… Her pen hovered, a breath from the page, as her lips drew down in a frown. Now, what did she want to draw…?

Barb came in roughly an hour later, to see the girl tucked neatly among a dozen or so sheaves of paper, her eyes closed, her sides rising in the gentle breaths of a sleeper. She smiled, relieved that the girl didn't seem to be having bad dreams yet, but resigned to getting up with her, when she did. Adam peeked over her shoulder, and she swore she heard him sigh in relief. "Drawing." He said aloud, obviously pleased.

"She has her mother's talent." Barb agreed, as he moved past her, to lift her into bed. Still she didn't stir. Barbara went to gather up her pictures, figuring the girl would probably want to save them… And froze, her hands not quite touching the first page, as she saw what was depicted within. It was far too tame to be anything she'd seen in the movie… But it was dark too, in a way the little girl had never drawn before.

Gathering them up slowly, Barbara went through them, one by one. Such savage strokes to her drawing, intermittent with gentle, delicate loops, and fine traces. The contrast alone made them odd, but… "Adam?" She whispered aloud, drawing his attention to her. "Is this…?"

Adam walked over, and seeing the first picture she was holding, smiled. "Spiders…" He murmured aloud. "She draws them very well." His smile died however, as she turned to the next page. His face in fact, grew very grim. He took the sheaf of paper between his thumb and forefinger, as if he were loath to touch it. "A demon." He said, very softly. There was something more frantic in the way this one had been drawn. "Damn. I'm going to kill him."

She came up behind her husband, tucking her arms around his waist, and resting her head just below his shoulder. "Get rid of it, Adam." She whispered, shakily. "Get rid of them all. I just want her to forget."

Slowly he removed the drawing of spiders that he'd admired, and set it on her dresser, crushing the rest with a slow, methodical squeeze of his hand. "I want her to forget too." He agreed softly. There was a silence between them after that, as they stood watching their adopted daughter sleep, looking so peaceful. Looking like no one who could have drawn such terrible things.

Adam was very grim as he put a gentle hand on her shoulder, before finally drawing away. "He was trying to take her away from us, you know." He said softly. There was no appropriate answer to this. "God, Barbara, what if we'd lost her today…?"

Barbara shook her head slowly, denying it to herself, as well as him. "No one's going to tell Lydia what she should be afraid of," She said softly, "Least of all when it comes to us. Come on. Let her sleep."

As they left the room, Adam switched off the light, on reflex. Barbara turned, about to chide him, when she saw into the girl's room, and her words died on her tongue. It looked, so dark… Darker than she ever remembered it being. "Turn the light back on, Adam." She whispered, her throat tight. When he looked at her oddly, she added, "For Lydia. In case she has a nightmare."

Nodding, Adam flipped the switch back on, bathing their daughter in the safety that only the presence of light ever seemed to bring, and Barbara felt an overwhelming surge of relief. Followed by a pang of foolishness. She wasn't helping anything here… "She can't sleep with it on every night." Adam reminded her softly, starting to draw her away.

Barbara looked back, already feeling foolish for her brief fear… But not enough to flip the switch back off. "I know…" She said slowly, "Just for tonight. Then I'm sure she'll be fine." She leaned into Adam's arm, adding softly, "You know, she's not going to be a little girl forever…"

"Yes, she is." Adam countered, matter-of-factly. "The hell if I'm letting her grow up." But he was smiling, as he said it. Barbara finally relaxed, closing her eyes briefly. Now, now the worst was over…

If they could survive this, they could survive anything.

--