Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the Beetlejuice franchise. Only that character of Scarlett is mine.

What was Left to Me

By NightWatcher666

My name is Scarlett Howard and my great grandmother recently died. Why should you care? Well unless you were close to her I don't really have an answer for you. She was a wonderful woman, full of kindness and willing to help anybody she could. She was there for me when my grandmother, her daughter died from a stroke. She took me in when my parents were killed in a car accident. She gave me anything I could ever dream of, but the most special gift she ever gave me was right before she died.

Before I go into that though, maybe I should tell you a bit about her. Her name was Lydia Deetz. To the rest of the world she was a great photographer, and a bit of an eccentric. She was praised for capturing photos the likes of which most people couldn't even imagine, but she was also known for talking to herself behind closed doors. My grandmother told me that her grandparents often heard her talking to her imaginary friend BJ and as the years went by this friend never seemed to "go away." They chalked it up to a lonely childhood. I now know better. Whenever we would go visit her she would spend hours in her room talking. Everyone else assumed that she was going senile, but on several occasions I could have sworn that I had heard a male voice in the room talking back to her.

After my parents died she was my only known living relative so I went to live with her. Her house was very old and she had lived in it since she was a little girl. Needless to say, I was an emotional wreck completely wrought with grief. She did her best to try and consol me, but I was too stubborn. After a while I came out of my shell, and we grew to be very close. Every morning we would have breakfast and talk while she looked over the photographs that I had gotten developed, and once my homework was done for the day we would watch old horror movies. Weekends though were really special. We would spend the day out taking pictures and go into town for an ice cream.

But like everyone else I grew up eventually and left for college. Even though I loved photography, I majored in psychology. She was so proud to watch me grow into a fine young woman as she would say. Of course we still spent as much time together as we could, until I left for New York to go to grad school. I was worried about leaving her on her own, but she always seemed to do fine and at the ripe old age of one hundred and two she release a new set of photographs into the world. When I called and asked her why she would put herself through so much strain, she simply responded, "It was time to finish one last work." It would take me another year to figure out what she meant.

I was on spring break from my final year of grad school when it happened. While most other students were hitting the beaches, I went home to see her even though she urged me to go have a social life. We were walking through the park looking for things to take pictures of when she collapsed. I rushed her to the hospital in a blind panic and sat nervously in the waiting room as the doctors ran their tests on her. They told me that her age was finally catching up to here and that she didn't have long to live. I cried all night from the news while she held me in her arms and told me that everything was going to be ok.

Over the next few months her health grew worse and worse, but despite the doctor's advice she refused to go into a home. She told them that if she was going to die then she would do it in her own home. She tried to stay active, but it soon became difficult for her to do the most menial of tasks, but somehow she made it to my graduation. That was the last time she ever left her house.

I came home after school to look after her, and when that fateful day came she called me into her room.

"I have something special to show you", she said as she forced herself out of bed and over to an old table with a spider print cover and an old oil lamp on it. Carefully she lit the lamp and looked at me. "Don't get scared", she said as she looked into the flame.

"Though I know I should be wary. Still I venture someplace scary. Ghostly haunting I turn loose. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

My heart began to race in my chest as the wind in the room picked up sharply, and a maniacal laughter entered my ears. A few seconds later a figure that can only be described as a living corpse appeared in the room with us.

"Holy shit!" I yelled as I nearly hit the ceiling.

"Who's the kid?" he asked in a raspy and sarcastic voice.

"BJ", my grandmother answered, "This is my great granddaughter Scarlett. Scarlett, this is Beetlejuice."

In that instant I knew that she wasn't crazy, and that her long fabled imaginary friend was extremely real.

"Hi", I answered in a small voice.

"Quite the talker this one is Babes", he sneered.

"Chill out BJ, you just turned her world upside down. Give her time to adjust", she told him.

For some reason I couldn't understand he instantly became encased in a block of ice.

"Not fair babes", he said with a muffled and chattering voice.

My grandmother, being the sensitive person that she was simply chuckled at the plight of her undead friend as he popped out of the block, "Look on the bright side Beej, you've just come closer to taking a bath than you have in decades."

Beetlejuice's eye's popped out of his head literally as he grabbed his hair and started screaming, "Do you have any idea how long it takes to cultivate mold spores as perfect as these?" he asked in a sharp tone as he showed off his arm pit.

I had seen many things in my life and been just fine, but the sight of this things mold covered arm pit was almost enough to make me lose it. My grandma however laughed as she lied back down in her bed. It was nice to once again see the twinkle of happiness in her eye that had been missing for months.

"You always could make me feel like I was still a kid BJ", she said with a smile, "But I didn't call you here to play."

Beetlejuice seemed to understand the seriousness of the statement because he quietly went and sat on the bed next to her. I sat on the other side and we each took one of her hands.

"I'm dying", she said, "And I have two requests to make of you."

"Aw gee babes, you know you don't have to go and do that just to get me to do you a favor", he replied with a small smile.

"I don't think that I'm getting a choice Beej", she answered, "I want you to see me off, and I want you to be as good a friend to Scarlett as you were to me."

He smiled at her, but I could have sworn that I saw a tear roll down his face, "You got it Babes."

We sat with her silently as the life slowly drained from her. Once I knew that she was gone I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. That was when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a much younger version of her comforting me. She always knew how to make me feel better in the worst of circumstances. She really was beautiful and for a moment I was jealous of where she was going. She took Beetlejuice's hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek before stepping in a doorway and walking into a bright light.

When the light faded we were left alone in her room. I of course called the hospital and let them know that she had passed, but I was here and alone with this ghoul that I had only met a few minutes ago.

"So, you're a ghost", I said trying to spark up some kind of communication.

He looked at me and smiled showing off his crooked and decayed teeth, "Ghost with the most toots", he replied.

"Will you see her when you go home?" I asked.

"Nah", he replied, "Everyone always said that she was too good for me. She went to a better place than the neitherworld."

I chuckled slightly, "I don't mean to be rude, but I would like some time alone."

He nodded slightly before vanishing and appearing in the mirror of my grandmother's old dresser, "Just remember, if you need me just call toots", he said as he vanished.

A few days later I sat in the cemetery looking into her open grave. It had really been a lovely funeral; in fact she would have loved to have been there. I sat there with my legs dangling into the grave. I couldn't help, but let a few tears loose at the thought of her gone. Once everyone had left I whispered those words for the first time, "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice", and he appeared right beside me holding a piece of red fabric.

He laid the fabric across the casket and I saw that it was a red poncho with a black spider web print on it. I couldn't help but think how pretty it was.

"It was hers when she was a child", he said as if reading my mind, "She always liked to wear it when she visited the neitherworld."

He ran his hand down the length of the casket, "I'm sure gunna miss ya Babes."

I couldn't help but feel a kinship building with this ghost as we sat at her grave and he told me stories of days gone by. I loved her, and he loved her; that was one thing we would always have in common. She was always there for me, and now that she couldn't be she made sure that I always had someone who could. That was the most special gift she ever gave me.

A/N: This is my first attempt at doing a story in a first person view so please be kind. As always I love reviews so please leave them.