Disclaimer: The characters of Beetlejuice and Lydia are owned by Geffen. Oops, no, make that Warner. As if anyone could actually 'own' BJ. Although Juno tries, on occasion, to make him behave. But truly, cultural icons live in the hearts and minds of the loving public, and occasionally take on a life of their own. Which i am by no means taking advantage of. Oh no. Not me.

AN: A story for Halloween, my favorite time of year. This is a mix of truth and fiction, as in, 'truth is sometimes stranger than…' Different- maybe not even a romance! I know, wierd, huh?

Update: There is a beautiful comic based on this first chapter, drawn by Samsally over at DeviantArt. Check it out please!

Soundtrack: Written to 'Rain Dogs' by Tom Waits, and 'Delirium Cordia' by Fantomas.

Chapter One: A Worthy Opponent

A candle to the right and to the left inside her circle, white and black. She thought one of them should be striped, in honor of his pants. She had used graveyard dirt for the circle itself, dug from under a yew tree for its power, but it still made her a little nervous. And this was no time to be nervous. . And she didn't have a photograph of him, so she had sketched a picture. It was a good likeness. He was hard to forget. But she would not have dared do this without the ring.

Right. As Eliot said, it was time.

She lit the black candle first. "This candle burns for my intent. Protect from harm and hurt prevent. He who is called; no harm to me. I say his name, so mote it be." And then the white: dark to light. A cold wind stirred beyond the inner circle where she sat, but didn't ruffle the papers outside of the outer. And in front of her, the paper where she had drawn his face sat in a circle all its own. "This candle burns, his name is spoken. This ring binds a promise which cannot be broken. For duration here he is of me. I say his name; so mote it be."

There. The spell was cast. She prayed that it would hold. "Here goes…" she muttered, and took a deep breath.

"Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice." This was not a good idea. But it was the best she had. She braced herself, mentally. Here goes, indeed. "Beetlejuice."

A tiny storm swirled furiously inside the circle, thunder and lightening. And her room erupted into fire. She steadied herself. It was a trick. Her apartment was not burning down around her, even though she could feel the heat of it. Her bed burst into flames, and the smoke swirled through the room, though not past the line of the greater circle. He was playing with her, testing her nerve. It was a trick. Gods, she hoped it was a trick. Her landlady would be furious if she came back from Tahiti to a smoking ruin.

She swallowed, the scent of brimstone strong in her nostrils. "Show yourself." Good. Her voice was firm, at least, if not her pulse.

Like a wraith, he appeared in the middle of the storm. His striped suit was rumpled and filthy, and his face… blackened eyes, encrusted with grave dirt, and his green eyes feverish. "Well, well…if it isn't my favorite little liar." His voice was weighty with resentment. He stepped towards her, but was brought up short at the edge of the circle. He traced his hands lightly over the surface of the wall of air that blocked his path. "I spy somethin' with my little eye… 'cept there's nothin' to see, is there?" He dropped his gaze to ponder her. "Another betrayal, Lyds?"

"Binding spell." She didn't trust her voice very far. He had gotten her right in her honor, and it stung. Instead, she held up her right hand, the gold ring gleaming on her ring finger.

"Wrong hand." His voice betrayed more irritation than his expression, which remained calm, but the air around him vibrated dizzily. She had to look away.

"If I wanted to marry you, you'd be right." He scowled darkly, and pushed against the circle. A flash of bright pain sparked behind her eye, and she winced. And he smiled a fierce smile.

"Wrong time to show weakness, little girl." He began to press steadily against the barrier of the circle, and the pain exploded in her head.

"Please just let me speak…" But her nose erupted in a rush of blood, and she pressed her sleeve to her face to staunch the flow. This wasn't supposed to be how it worked. The migraine pain bowed her to the floor.

"You can't use this particular spell without my true name, Lydia." His voice was sensual now, a lover's voice. "Didn't your little library book tell you that?" She nodded at him, blood dripping off her lip, fighting the urge to vomit. He shook his head in mock pity. "You ain't strong enough to hold me, little girl. Bad choice with the spell, tyin' it to your own strength. You'll pass out within two minutes. And then we'll see who's pullin' the strings."

Then, for a moment he paused, and the pain let up. His eyes focused on her intently, and she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, blood dripping from her chin. "How come you did this, knowin' you'd fail?" He sounded both curious and disappointed, almost, as if he had expected her to be more resourceful, or stronger. A worthy opponent. She spit blood out of her mouth.

"I need your help…"

"No." Sharp finality, and a tense anger sharpened his voice to a knife's edge. "You tricked me. You broke your promise. And then you thought you could have me at your mercy, like a friggin' genie in a bottle? Think again." He began to press, harder this time, until she felt like her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. But she had to speak… just one more time. It took all the strength she had left.

"Gabriel."

The pain and the fiery illusion ceased at once. He stared at her, his tawny, wild head pulling away and his mouth slowly unhinging open in stunned disbelief. She squinted up at him, dizzy, wiping the blood from her nose with her hand. And in that moment, all the ferocity left his expression, and was replaced by a quaver that made him appear as though he might cry. "What did you say?" His voice trembled very slightly.

She was shaking so hard she could barely speak. A few gulps of air, and her heart rate began to slow back down. "Your name. Your real name. Gabriel."

"But… how?" Everything was forgotten in that moment—anger, fear, pain, and they were speaking across the chasm of the binding as if whispering in each other's ear.

She weakly held up her right hand to show him the ring. "Inscribed, Beetlejuice. It's inscribed on the inside of the ring."

"Well, fuck me." He shook his head, looking a bit lost. And, anger spent, his hands dropped slowly to his sides.

She grinned hesitantly, relief evident in her exhausted features "No thanks. I have way too much self-respect for that." He sneered at her, but without much heat, and even that was soon replaced by curiosity, as he studied her thoughtfully. Lydia shook her head to clear it and wiped her face off with a damp towel she had set within the binding circle. "That was much harder than I thought it would be."

He grinned obnoxiously, lips curled back in a mocking leer. "I'm a bit harder than I thought I would be, too." She grimaced in disgust.

"Yuck. Not a chance." The urge to vomit rose again, but she quelled it forcefully.

"You'll pay me somehow, little girl. One way…" His emerald green eyes trailed meaningfully across her blood-spattered, sweat-soaked shirt. "…or another."