Tired… So tired… Lydia? Not mine. Beetlejuice? Not mine. Except in that way that nobody on earth, not even the legal owners of them, can take them away. Because in my head, in my heart, they're mine. Not legally, sure. But I'm not gonna forget them, so they can never be taken away from me… Oh, and the same goes for the neitherworld. That being said? Please don't sue.
--
This one? Much better I think, than the last. That being said, I hope I didn't give B too big a kick in the pants at the end, the last thing I want is him looking all emo. Dangerous, yes, psychotic, yes, but not emo. Oh well, either way, it had to be done… I guess it does answer a few questions though, doesn't it? At least this one flows with the series a little better. I hope.
--
Lydia swayed around her room to an utter lack of music, a dreamy look on her face, her feet clad in god-awful red tap-shoes that she'd picked up for a song at the local discount store. They made no sound on her thick carpet, but that was fine, she didn't know how to tap-dance anyway. It was more the idea that she liked.
She hadn't finished dressing yet, her long skirts, almost the same color red as the shoes, flaring around her hips, but her top still simply pressed against her chest as she danced with the long sleeves in either hand. Her eyes were lined with dark make-up, making them look sunken and hollow, while her lips, rather than red, were a startling shade of bright orange. Her black and white striped stockings made up the rest of the outfit, while her hair was pulled into a ponytail on top of her head, cascading the long tresses everywhere around her face randomly. Like looking out through a haze of black spider webs.
A soft hum fell from her lips as she swayed, her heart already fluttering like a captive bird inside her. Beating against the bars of her ribcage. Trembling with excitement. Valentine's Day… What better night to spend with her best friend? What better night to spend with the guy she loved?
Beetlejuice meanwhile, seemed markedly less interested, floating on his back some distance above, staring off into a corner of the ceiling with a thoughtful little twist to his lips. For once, he wasn't watching her dress, or dance. He actually seemed to be a ghost with a lot on his mind, and not the romantic kind of stuff going through hers. Holidays didn't often mean much to him though. Maybe not even Valentine's Day.
Lydia shot him a short, good-humored glance, before slipping the lacy, tight red blouse on. She stopped before her mirror, narrowing her eyes briefly, and checked herself for effect. It looked pretty damn good. She could almost be mistaken for one of the dead herself… One of the better preserved dead. Her pale skin looked like it hadn't seen sun in years… Which was also fine, and pretty near the truth. She wondered briefly what her parents thought of all the time she spent, just nowhere, then let it go with a shrug.
The only problem with her appearance was that her black bra was rather visible under the lacy red top. She squirmed a little, wondering if that would bother him. Wondering at the same time if maybe he'd object, then suggest staying in for the night. That was actually kind of a hope, and made little goosebumps raise on her arms… But he'd made no such suggestions yet, and she'd already done all she could bear to do, as far as baiting him was concerned. At this point she sometimes blushed, just looking at him…
Positively indecent thoughts, Lydia Deetz, she chastised herself, spinning on her toes, and facing the ghost, pointedly not facing her. "Do you think this is too exposed, B?" She asked him flatly, preferring to get it out of the way now, rather than when he was driving someone's head through a brick wall later, for looking at her funny.
"Whatever, babes." He muttered, not really paying attention. He had her nail file in his hands, scraping god only knew what kind of grunge from under his nails. "You look great, can we go now?"
A brief frown crossed her lips, as she wondered if she'd done something to annoy him. Valentine's night had been her idea after all, he'd just kind of gone along with it. Maybe he had something else he wanted to be doing? There was still a lot she didn't know about how the ghost spent his free time after all, and while this was probably for the best, she didn't want to end up being a burden to him, if he wanted to be somewhere else. "Is everything okay, B?" She asked softly.
"Fine, babes." He touched down to the carpet, before turning to look at her. For a moment, a cross look flitted across his features, as he finally took in how she was dressed, but he didn't say a word about it. Instead, all he asked her was, "Orange lipstick, Lyds? When you're all decked in red?"
It was an odd thing for him to focus on, she mused. Was he just trying not to comment on her semi-transparent blouse? "Pumpkin." She informed him easily, running her tongue across the gleaming sheen of her lips. "I found it left over from Halloween… I never got around to wearing it then. I figure, why not make every day Halloween?" She gave him the grin of one very aware they've made an irrefutable point…
Then made a small sound of surprise as he took her shoulders in either hand, dipped his head, and lightly ran his own long tongue across her still wet lips. It made her shiver… Then he lifted his head again, running his fingers across his mouth, and considered her with a grin. "Puuump-kiiin…" He whispered slowly, drawing it out like some particularly nasty word, and making her squirm, a little giggle caught in her throat.
"Pumpkin…" She echoed mechanically, her voice suddenly shy. He cackled, slipping his arm around her waist, even as, somehow, his striped jacket found itself hung around her shoulders. Damn, he did notice… Well hell, it matched her socks, right? Besides, she was still blown away by that… Could she even call it a kiss?
So she just shrugged into his embrace a little more, breathing in deeply of his familiar smell. He didn't smell like death, or even mildew, as much as he simply smelled… Old. Like stones that had stood in the same place for centuries, weathered by rain and wind, and somehow remaining unchanged, while the rest of the world crumbled around them. A little like moss, or sand, or yes, mold. But mostly, just ancient. It was his smell. It told her everything was right.
She was barely aware of whispering his name, only really drawing back out of her pleasant haze as she found herself before a gothic looking nightclub, complete with towers, turrets, and bars on most of the windows. Jagged looking gargoyles peered down from every corner, blinking every so often, or shifting their wings. And neitherworld music poured out long before they reached the huge double doors, making her skin tingle, and her blood race. God, what was with the drums of this world…?
Her tap shoes, which had seemed like such a good idea only a few minutes before, now rang, click, click, click, across the street, making her wince at the seeming loudness of them, even over the rest of the noise the night presented. When they got to the front door though, completely bypassing the rest of the denizens who stood in line obediently, it wasn't her, or her noisy shoes, that drew the bouncer's attention. No, he had eyes only for Beetlejuice… Though when the poltergeist met that gaze, the guy immediately looked anywhere else.
Beetlejuice just smiled, and without ceremony, or so much as a grumble of protest from the bouncer, drew her into the shifting mass of spirit flesh within. She stayed tucked close to him, not willing to get lost in the shuffle, as he drew her to a table in the back… Miraculously, the only one empty. Not only empty, but bereft of any clutter, suggesting that it had been so all evening. "Private table, B?" She murmured into his ear, only to have his grin broaden, and a low cackle escape his lips.
Sometimes she thought it was like being married into the mob… Don't ask too many questions about things you don't want to know anyway. Accept all the lovely little perks that come from people being terrified of the guy you're with. And realize that somewhere along the line, you're probably going to get caught in some pretty nasty crossfire. Hell if she'd known what she was getting into that night…
He pulled her chair out, playing the part of a gentleman, and she sat with a little smile in his direction, before he pushed her up to the table. Trapped, she giggled in some insane little part of her mind, oh no, now what do I do…?
Beetlejuice didn't immediately pull away, but dropped his lips almost to her ear, the cool flesh briefly caressing the sensitive hairs there. "What'll you have, babes?" He murmured, fingers tightening briefly on her shoulders.
"Something strong!" She teased right back, letting her fingertips tickle across his chin.
Her date made a little, amusement face. "Sure Lyds, and while I'm scraping your bubbling corpse off the floor, you can sit back and enjoy the music." He gave her a light clap to the back of the head, and added, in a slightly louder voice, "One virgin daq-scary it is. Fire-fruit or swamp-berry?"
"Mm… Mixed." She leaned back in her chair, and gave him her best come hither look, only succeeding in making him laugh shortly, and retreat, shaking his head in amusement. Well damn, that could have a bad effect on a girl's ego, after a while… She sighed, propped her chin in her hand, and lidded her eyes at the rotating lights above. She was never sure if the gentle, round glows were artificial, or 'alive…'
It took longer than she'd expected, Beetlejuice usually being somewhat quick about fetching drinks and things, and five minutes later she was still sitting there, regarding those dancing around her with a fond twist to her lips. She'd love to get Beetlejuice to actually dance with her at one of these places… He'd dance with her whenever, sure, but never in public. And this despite spending a couple nights a week at places like this. And god, the music just got under her skin…
"Honey, what's a pretty thing like you, doing sitting alone on Valentine's Day?" A voice suddenly interrupted her brooding, making her look around in surprise, and then finding no one, look down. A large spider dressed in hot pink silks was regarding her with amazingly doe-like eyes, her wide lips stretched in a cherry pink smile, the utter picture of harmless innocence. "You ought to be with your fellah, a night like this!"
Wondering vaguely whether she was looking at an orb-weaver, or a very oddly colored black widow, Lydia gave her a small smile. "He's at the bar." She explained, a little loudly over the music. "I'm Lydia, nice to meet you. You should probably be going though…"
The warning slid off the spider's back like water. "Aw honey, my name's Ginger, and it's real nice to meet you too. Glad we're not both alone tonight, though that would give me someone to talk to… Oh, and I just love your shoes! You a tap-dancer too? I gotta tell you, there's not many around here into that sort of thing…"
"Ginger," Lydia pressed, a little more firmly, "B's kind of a jealous guy… You probably don't want to meet him." The spider, innocent that she was, giggled, and examined her shoes more, with a feather light touch. "Besides, I'm not a tap dancer, I just thought the shoes went well with the dress."
"Oh, they do hon…" Ginger assured her earnestly, now moving on to admire the length of red sheen that made up her dress. "Is this real spider silk? You know, I tried to sell some of my threads a while back, but they said it wasn't high quality… Well let me ask you, who knows more about high quality spider silk, than a spider, right? Oh, but this is real nice…"
Lydia had, by this point, spotted Beetlejuice moving amid the crowd, and turned kind of a frustrated, desperate eye, on the pink lady spider. "Looks like he's coming back." She noted with a forced lightness, and when this made no impact, just sighed as the spider pattered on pleasantly about this and that, and tried to think of a way to keep Beetlejuice from picking her apart, piece by piece.
"I can't wait to meet him, hon… I bet he's a real looker, right?" The spider winked at her, then turned her head to see for herself. "I tell you, all the good ones are taken…" Lydia was actually starting to really like her, and her incessant, but sweet chatter. She had to head this off…
She got to her feet, and moved forward, intercepting Beetlejuice, and leaving Ginger, surprised and alone, at the table. "What kept you?" She teased the poltergeist, only to make him smile thinly, and try to look past her. She took her drink with one hand, the fingers of her other pressing desperately into his arm. "Please, please, please be nice? Just for tonight?"
"Not a nice guy, Lyds." He rumbled under his breath, walking back with her to the table, but not making any immediate moves against the spider, who now had a puzzled look on her face. Like she knew him from somewhere, she just couldn't think where. He took a deep drink of a dark, foul looking ale, then leaned towards the spider, grim-faced, and informed her in no uncertain terms, "Leave me and Lyds alone, before I start picking your legs out of my teeth, bug."
Ginger suddenly grew very, very pale, and a barely audible squeak emerged from her soft mouth, before she began backing away, clearly terrified. "S-sure, Mr. Beetle- I mean, yes sir, right away, anything you say!"
Apparently satisfied with making her fall over her feet in an effort to get away, Beetlejuice smiled at Lydia across from him, a baring of teeth if there ever was one. "That nice enough for you, babes?" Lydia's smile, by contrast, was genuine, as she nodded in relief. This served to put him off his game a little, and his annoyed grimace/smile vanished. "All right then." He agreed, satisfied at this middle ground. "Enjoy your drink."
Lydia did in fact enjoy her drink, cold, spicy, and sweet, though it resembled something like thinned roofing tar. It in fact was a little sticky. But only in a good way. "Are we gonna dance tonight?" She teased him, figuring if she'd gotten away with this much, she might as well try for one step more.
Beetlejuice paused, the heavy glass mug pressed against his lips, one eyebrow raised. Slowly, he lowered his ale. "Babes," He said matter-of-factly, just as if it were true, "I don't dance."
"Yes you do." Lydia countered easily, not missing a step. "We dance together all the time… You just never want to dance when it's someone else playing the music!" And god bless him, she loved what he played when they danced together, but this stuff got into her head, and burned through her blood, and damn if she didn't want to dance!
"Exactly." He agreed, a smile curling his lips. "Like you just said babes, I dance to my own beat. Just sit back, enjoy the drinks," He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, "Enjoy the music. Enjoy the sight of people making idiots of themselves. It's why we come to these places."
Lydia frowned, not ready to back down just yet, but after a moment, a sigh escaped her lips, and the only further protest she made was a soft, "The only reason I come to these places B, is to be with you."
He'd been about to take another swig of his drink, but her words, and the deep emotion that accompanied them, made him pause, and consider her at length. She didn't look like she was having a good time. Why the hell not? The drinks were good, the music was good… Hell, it was Valentine's Day, which seemed to be such a big frigging deal to her, and she was spending it with him, just like she'd wanted. She should be fucking thrilled!
There really was no understanding this girl. Dressing in skin tight shit that showed off every flash of skin she could, getting into bizarre mood swings, sulking when she should be having a good time… Huh. Teenagers.
He didn't pay much attention after that, which was really the problem. Lydia enjoyed his company, especially the quiet, companionable times they spent together, but sometimes that quiet just got to be a little much. She fidgeted in her chair, milking her drink out as long as she could, though she knew full well he'd get her another, if she asked. Her foot tapped to the beat, her eyes lidded, her face flushed with pleasure from the maddening strains, demanding to be danced to.
She considered Beetlejuice across the table, gazing with a smirk at the dancers around them, making public spectacles of themselves. God, she wanted him to make a spectacle with her, just once! She examined her glass, a growing restlessness inside her, and finally turned the empty mug on its head, with a sound of finality. "Well, damn it!" She snapped, making the poltergeist look at her in surprise. "I wanna dance, B, and if you won't dance with me, then I'll just dance by myself!"
To be honest, she wasn't thinking clearly, swept up in a sense of rejection and frustration, and threw his jacket off of her, getting up in the midst of twisting bodies without a backwards glance. Beetlejuice stared after her, utterly shocked that she'd just get up without him, then reached for her glass with a frown on his face, sniffing what remained. Dammit, he'd told them a virgin… Fuck!
Lydia was moving through the crowd like a force of nature, a defiant look on her face as she found a spot she liked, and started dancing. Her hips rocked with a slow, steady beat as her skirts flared around her. Her feet hit the floor with a beat of their own, her hair blinding her half the time as she dipped and threw her head. Her hands wove a pattern in the air in front of her, and a happy little hum fell from her lips, as she mouthed the words to the wordless tune.
Clickety, clickety, clickety, she stomped harder as the music swallowed her up, paying no mind as one after another, various ghosts tried to join her in her dance, only to be dismissed without so much as a smile as she turned off in another direction. Every eye was soon on her, male and female alike, she danced as if hypnotized, flares of red and a blur of black and white, a smile stretched across her face as she danced for herself, and no one else.
The music changed, and with it, her movements, becoming slow, tantalizing, a rocking sort of sway that drew attention to her like a flame. And she was aware of none of it. Every lonely ghoul in the place was watching her now, some with hungry eyes, others with a distinct sense of longing to their features, as if she were something they wanted, but would never dare try to claim. Drumbeats, with the rocking of her hips. Strumming, to be answered by her feet. The lights in the place were circling her, and she still didn't open her eyes to see.
Truthfully, as deep into the music as she was, she just knew that at any moment, Beetlejuice was going to make her pay for it. She wanted to enjoy it while she could. She really had no idea how much trouble a girl so flawless and brimming with life could cause, in the distorted, dead neitherworld. It was a lesson she should have learned long before…
When someone's hands caught her shoulder, her waist, she opened her eyes, expecting it to be Beetlejuice, there to spoil her game. When she saw that it was in fact, not, she recoiled as if she'd been burned, stopping her dance abruptly, and looking at the strange ghost who'd tried to claim her for his own. Suddenly it wasn't fun anymore. Her euphoria was wearing off, replaced by uncertainty, unfamiliarity.
And then it was ripped away as Beetlejuice, tired of watching her be ogled from the sidelines, stepped up to the guy once more advancing on her, picked him up with one hand, and flung him like a bowling ball through a crowd of very startled pins.
Lydia's eyes turned to him gratefully, worshipfully, but his lips were set into a thin, displeased line, as he caught her by the arm, hard, and drew her against him. "You wanna dance?" He whispered, for her alone to hear. "Fine. But I don't care how many people here think you're dancing for them, you don't dance for anyone but me. Understood?"
It was a frighteningly possessive thing for him to say, as if he was ready to turn on her next, if she didn't agree. She just nodded with wide eyes, for the first time in a long time, wondering if the ghost would ever turn against her. Instead though, he just put a hand on her hip, wrapped his fingers through the grasp of her own, and pulled her out savagely, into a new, desperately beating song and dance.
His grip on her was hard, and his eyes, as they locked on hers, hungry and demanding, as their feet flew across the dance floor, anyone with sense giving way before them. He dipped her, he spun her, he showed more skill than she'd ever known he possessed, and the whole time, she twisted to his every whim without thinking. He held her breath in the palm of his hand, bending her and reaching for her, pulling her tight against him, before tossing her away, only to be caught by the end of his reach.
Lydia couldn't breathe, except in gasps, as his hands devoured her on the dance floor, letting everyone there see that she belonged to him. He'd never been so daring with her before, not even in the privacy of her own room, and her face was quickly flushed with excitement and confusion, not certain herself what had possessed her best friend, who had never behaved this way before.
And so caught up in the intensity of it, that at first, she didn't hear the whispers surrounding them. 'Is that Beetlejuice?' 'She can't know who it is, no way she'd be dancing with him…' 'They came in together, I think.' 'My god, she's perfect…' 'Is she even dead? She still looks alive to me…' 'What would a living girl be doing here?'
And then things turned nasty, even as her mind tried desperately to keep up with the movements of her date, even as her head began to haze with everything happening. The lights seemed to blur around her, the whispers seemed to become a roar… 'I heard a rumor that he's been hanging around a living girl for years…' 'You can't be serious!' 'She would have had to be a child…' 'There's no way he wouldn't have killed her yet!' 'There's no way he's not killing her tonight, the way they're dancing out there…' And somewhere, what sounded like Ginger's voice, 'Leave her alone! She's a nice girl!'
"How fucked up would that girl have to be, wanting to be anywhere near something like him? I think-" And this last was all the ghoul said, before she grabbed at her throat, choking, scrabbling, trying to let out a frenzied scream. Beetlejuice had heard her, Lydia suddenly knew. This dance had suddenly taken a decidedly dangerous turn for anyone who said anything the poltergeist didn't like.
Suddenly no one spoke, and her head spun more and more, both with music, and with dancing. Her stomach was turning, her vision going funny with all the spinning, and at last she just couldn't take it anymore, collapsing into Beetlejuice's arms. "I wanna go…" She whimpered, not certain herself why she suddenly felt so sick.
Beetlejuice made no more attempt to draw her into any further dancing, putting his arm around her, and supporting her as they staggered towards the door. She'd stopped spinning, and she didn't feel any better. Her stomach hurt. The giddiness had long since worn off. She felt like she was going to…
The next thing she knew, Beetlejuice was holding her around the middle, keeping her from falling, light fingers keeping her hair back from her face, as her earlier drink made itself known again. Burning with humiliation, still sick, and wanting to cry, she made no sound as he scooped her up, her sickness passed, and carried her out into the cool night air.
"You had to get that stuff out of you, babes…" He murmured into her neck, sounding distinctly more gentle, more like the ghost she knew, loved, and trusted. "Neitherworld liquor ain't meant for the living. Didn't mean to make it worse than it had to be…" At a muffled sob into his shoulder, something inside him twisted, hard, and he gave an audible grunt of pain. He'd gotten carried away, damn it. Trying to make a point. Trying to make her sick…
He found a place to sit down, and held the girl lightly in his lap, her head tucked against his shoulder, his jacket tucked around her little frame. Damn it. His breath hissed out in a long, low sigh of frustration. Who else could do this to him? Only Lyds. "Had to make you sick, Lyds." He said again, hoping she understood him this time. "They slipped some shit into your drink that- Hell, I'm gonna kill them. Again."
Lydia moaned against his shoulder, but finally lifted her head, a little smile on her face. "You're a hella good dancer, B." She whispered, running her fingers across her lips, wiping away any stickiness that remained. "Why didn't you ever dance like that with me before?"
Beetlejuice made a face. "Waiting for the right time, kid." He grunted dismissively, pleased that she wasn't as bad off as she'd seemed. "But hell babes, you really got under my skin back there, dancing with every asshole in the place eyeing you like a piece of meat."
"Except you." She whispered, wondering at the same time if that was really as true as it usually was. His hands, back there, had been so demanding… So daring and, hungry! Like he wanted to take her further than she'd ever been, right there on the dance floor, damn whoever was watching! She shivered, and avoided his eyes. She didn't know what to think about that. Not yet.
He made a small sound of humor, muffled by her hair. "You, babes? You know you're more than a piece of meat to this dead guy. You're my whole fucking world." And to prove this, he held up a glowing blue and green globe, spinning on his fingertips, with light-up letters that spelled Lydia across its face. Then it sprung open, as if on hinges, and in the hollow center, hung suspended a picture of her, in black and white.
Lydia made a soft sound, remarkably like a coo, lifting the picture from its resting place. It caught her perfectly, made her look more beautiful, with the way she stood, and the way the light fell across her, than she knew she could be. "I don't remember this…" She whispered, feeling suddenly soft inside, as she wondered if this was how Beetlejuice saw her all the time. "Where'd you get the camera?"
"Borrowed yours." He informed her matter-of-factly, snagging the picture back, and tucking it into the depths of his person, remarkably near what looked like internal organs. "Keep it right here, next to my heart. And you should know babes, just because you don't see me anywhere, don't mean I ain't still somewhere close by…"
Her eyes flicked up to him, a small smile forming on her soft lips. "You're stalking me, B?" She asked, wanting to giggle, but utterly too exhausted.
"From time to time." He answered nonchalantly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Gotta keep you safe, Lyds. How am I supposed to do that, if I ain't watching you?" She made a noncommittal sound, snuggling closer into his chest. She was perfectly content to stay there for the rest of the night… "That being said, babes…"
He stood suddenly, dropping her feet to the ground, and advanced on her a strong step, making her back up in surprise, until she was pressed against the alley wall. She looked at him in confusion as he stopped, just a breath away, reaching his arm out to brace himself against the brick. "There's something I need to talk to you about, Lyds."
Lydia blinked, unafraid, if a little intimidated… And a little flushed, from his nearness. She could smell him from this close… Feel the waves of coolness, rolling off his body. She'd give just about anything if he didn't say anymore, but just kissed her, then and there…
"Babes." His voice was a little terse, and her eyes snapped up, from where they'd been focused on his lips. "You've been doing your best to play with my mind, Lyds. And don't say you haven't," He added, interrupting her as she was about to protest, "I'm talking about these things you wear… The way you pretend you don't notice I'm there when you're stripping down." His voice was rough, his eyes very intense. "I put up with it as long as I could, and I can't say it hasn't been fun, but I want you to promise me you're gonna fucking stop it, Lyds."
His words shocked her into silence, and she just stood there, dumbfounded, staring into his dark, dilated eyes. "Why?" She whispered at last, a little hurt. "Don't you want…?"
"I want!" He hissed, forcibly withdrawing from her now, as if he wanted to do anything but. "After that dance in there? Hell, I got carried away babes, and I gotta tell you, I want a lot. But there's no fucking way I'm ever gonna hurt you kid, you understand me? You're the only one I give a damn about, in any world, and I'm not gonna fucking hurt you!" This last was almost a shout, as he drew away , flinching as she reached out to him, eyes blazing.
"B, if this is because it'll be my first time…" She began, hesitant, touched and a little scared.
"Fuck your first time." He denied flatly, making her wince. "You're living babes, I'm not. If I tried to do what I wanted to you…" And here his voice fell, his eyes becoming dull. "You've got a living body, it couldn't take me losing control of my powers, not for a second. And I know I'd lose control… I know. Don't ask me how." At this, Lydia just nodded, wide eyed. "If you were dead, it'd be different. But if I tried…"
Here he stopped, just stopped, staring at her like he wanted to grab her, and push her away, all at once. "It's a dangerous game." He said at last, coldly. "I could end up ripping you apart, piece by piece, if I ever lost control of my powers like that. It'd hurt like hell, and be the worst way I can think of for you to die. So since I can't have you, stop fucking teasing me."
Lydia felt like she'd been struck, and slowly, before Beetlejuice's eyes, she wilted, looking absolutely devastated. "Then why," She whispered, lifting her hand, the one with his ring, "Why did you-?"
"Because you're not gonna live forever, babes." He informed her, with a grim smile, and some sense of satisfaction. "You're barely part of that world now… I'm just waiting for you to get a little older." His words gave her a chill, one that ate to her bones. "I wouldn't do it without asking," He added, seeing the flare of fear in her eyes, "But…"
"But you'd kill me." She whispered, her mind flashing back to that night, many years before, when she'd fully expected to die by his hand. When she'd been ready to. The fact was, as horrified as she was by the idea now, she was as curious as much as anything else. "That's what you've been planning all along?" A small pause, as she took this in, and he offered no denial. "How?" Was finally all she said, the word a whisper.
His fingers flicked, and she saw in them a gleam of steel, no longer than five inches, with a blade less than two. "Right here, babes." He said softly, reaching out with the weapon to caress the inside part of her arm, just a little below her shoulder. "There's an artery that'll empty that body of yours in seconds… I know the spot exactly, not a breath either way. You'll barely feel it. And I'll heal it up, just before it kills you… You'll be perfect. Just like you are now." A small pause. "Just dead."
Lydia felt cold, in a way she never had before, making no protest as he found the place he'd cut with the little blade, saying it again. "Here. But not until you're ready." He drew his hand away, and the glint of steel disappeared, back wherever it had come from. "And if you told me not to, then I wouldn't. That's how it works, babes. But if you wanna marry me… You gotta be dead."
His eyes were strange, somehow more human, talking about killing her, than she'd ever seen them before. "And if you want me to wait until you're an old biddy, and croak on your own, I will. I don't give a damn. We got all the time in the world." His fingertips tipped her chin up, though she hadn't tried to look away yet, and met her gaze with a soft of strange, savage gentleness. "It's up to you. But kid… Don't fucking tease me anymore."
Slowly Lydia nodded, her mind swimming again, this time not with drink, but with choice. She would have never thought he'd say something like this to her, ask her to die, by his hand no less. Not the way he protected her from every little thing. Not the way he'd saved her life, more than once. It was all just a little more than she could take in.
"I think I wanna go home." She whispered, not wanting to leave him, so much as give herself time to think this over, when her first impulse was to tell him to do it now. To just never leave the neitherworld again. To stay with him forever… But that wasn't what he wanted her to do, not like that, and she knew she shouldn't too. She needed to think. And she needed to think without him. She still never thought for a minute that he'd hurt her. Even though he'd never said it, she was suddenly certain he loved her. This had to be tearing him apart too…
"Go on." He said softly, backing up, surrendering his right to keep her there with him. "Anytime you wanna talk about it, babes… You know my number." He gave her a twisted little grin, and she couldn't be certain it wasn't genuine. He'd gotten a load off his chest after all. He didn't seem to worry for a minute that she might run the other way, because of what he'd said. And truthfully, she had no intention to.
But Beetlejuice didn't really know that, and after she was gone, he stared into the darkness, silently, for upwards of ten minutes. Damn she made him soft, vulnerable… Even scared. Yeah, losing her was the one thing that scared him. Screw sandworms. All they could do was kill him.
He closed his eyes, cursing himself for his stupidity, confessing the truth to her like that. He'd put it off for a reason. Now she was gone, and anything else he could think of to say, was too late. He didn't like feeling helpless. He preferred killing things. So hell if that wasn't just what he was going to do.
When the bouncer saw him coming this time, eyes lit up like the devils, both hands clenched into fists, the pavement cracking under his feet with the force of energy currently ripping from him, he didn't bother to stay to see what happened next. He took off. The crowd waiting to get in, too, took one look at him, and scattered. He ripped the door open, and clean off its hinges, and stared down the suddenly very still crowd inside.
A slow smile crossed his face, every tooth bared in a far too wide grin, edged and slightly gleaming, as his eyes burned with unnatural glee. Hell with fear. Hell with uncertainty. He was going to rip every fucking one of them apart, until he felt better.
As he started to move into the room, one of the first things his eyes lit on was the spider Lyds had been talking to earlier. His hand whipped out, stretching through the crowd, and he snagged her by two of her back legs, yanking her up to eye level with him. "I'm gonna save you for last." He growled evenly, tossing her into a broom cupboard behind the bar, the door slamming heavily behind her.
Ginger cowered there, shaking, trying the door again and again to no avail. Screamed echoed through the club beyond the heavy wood, and a terrible, maddened laugh. The sounds of flesh being torn, wood being smashed… Chaos, panic, and fear. She fell to her knees, all eight of them, and hugged the nearest two to her chest.
The terrible din seemed to last forever… In was in fact, when things began to become more quiet, when the interspaced screams were easier to pick out, and lingered longer in the still air, that she started to really lose it. She scrabbled at the door until long grooves were cut into it, and only then fell still, silent, hoping he'd forgotten her.
There was no longer any sound outside the broom cupboard. Maybe he'd left? Why had she come here tonight…? Why not stay home, with Jacques, and eat eye-scream, and complain about being dateless on Valentines, like any normal girl? And now she'd pay for it with-
The door chose that moment to swing open, and the green eyed madman stared at her from the other side, his face streaked with various colored of blood, his clothes soaked in it. He was regarding her without expression, adjusting his sleeves, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Almost forgot about you…" He muttered to himself, sounding more annoyed than anything, like he'd thought he was done with a chore, and well damn, now he had to kill her too.
Ginger didn't say a word, didn't utter a sound, just looked up at him in terror as he regarded her evenly, without remorse, without any real trace of madness to his eyes. As if he were perfectly sane, he'd simply been bored, and gone on a killing spree for the hell of it. Slowly his lips twisted into a frown. Even more slowly, he took a step to the side, and made a careless gesture, as if she should move past him. She continued to stare, not understanding.
"What are you, fucking stupid?" He snapped, his eyes flashing with impatience. "Look, I was gonna string you up by your insides and play piñata with you with a two by four, but I'm remembering now… Lyds asked me to be nice. Just this once. So get the hell out of here, and happy goddamn Valentine's Day!"
He wasn't sure himself why he was doing it, he sure the hell wasn't done venting yet, but he watched as the pale, terrified spider slunk past him, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked at the scene of the massacre around him. Damn it, damn it, damn it… Wasn't a one of them that meant a fucking thing to him, he'd butcher them all and more, and yet despite his words, he still didn't know if he'd be able to kill that one little goth girl, when the time came. Even if it was to be with her forever. Even if she fucking asked him to!
Beetlejuice stalked from the ravaged nightclub, out into the dark, eyes fixed randomly on the heavens. He couldn't help but remember how fascinated Lyds had been by these very stars, just before the last time she'd almost gotten killed. It hadn't been a 'thank god, now I don't have to do it,' sort of thing either. He'd been terrified. Terri-fucking-fied. It made no damn sense, whatsoever.
In the end, he didn't know if she was forcing him to be sane, or driving him even crazier than he'd been before he met her. The only thing he knew for sure at the moment, was that he really wanted to get some damn sleep. And probably wouldn't be able to. He sighed, and shook his head, his anger ebbing. This was crazy.
You're gonna be the death of me, babes… But hell, what a way to go…
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