Beetlejuice… Will you be mine? May I possess you, heart, body and soul, rights and legalities? No? Well, it seems that I still don't own Beetlejuice… Too bad. Probably don't own Lydia either…

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The updates won't always be this prompt, so enjoy. And as usual, I'm my own worst critic. I hope.

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He sat, invisibly of course, outside Olivia's window. Still had the same damn room she'd had when she was a kid… He was currently watching her dress, unapologetically. Hell, if she wanted privacy, she should close the damn curtains! Her gown had slid past her shoulders without protest, revealing a woman whose shape had changed remarkably little over the years. Life was usually a bit harder on breathers… But hell, she looked good.

She wore black everything, from her black dress, to her black stockings, to her lacy black under things. The girl hadn't changed a bit. Except for, you know, filling out a bit more on top, and growing out her hair until it fell to the top of her sexy little butt… Sinuous, was the word he'd use to describe her. But she sure as hell wasn't a kid anymore.

Starting to get uncomfortable, physically, he shifted, still content with watching. Hadn't seen her face yet after all, she'd just about kept her back to him the entire time. Not that he minded the view. Then snap, there goes the bra… Creamy shoulders, pale skin… Ah, and she slipped her night thing over her head, without turning around. Damn.

Still no sign of her hubby… Maybe she'd been out all night partying. The kid's dad could be long since history by now, stuff like that happened all the time. Not that he was thinking he might still have a chance, or anything. Bitch had betrayed him, left him in that hellhole long enough for her to have a kid, and then some. Now he just wanted revenge. And the first part of it, was taking away any ideas she might have, of having him out of her life.

"Honey?" Her voice sent little shivers down his spine, like cold milk running down his skin. She was talking to someone… not him. Dad must still be around then. "Are you sure it's okay if you go into work late?"

Enter the competition, Beetlejuice thought darkly, as the bathroom door swung open, and out stepped a guy everything he wasn't. He wondered at himself briefly for thinking of the guy this way, competition, but mostly stewed over Mr. Chiseled Features, self assured and muscular, currently draping himself across the body of his former fiancé.

And Olivia of course, turned into the embrace with a sensual little shimmy, a bright smile, and endless dark eyes, adoring the fucking son-of-a-bitch… Beetlejuice found himself desiring, very strongly, to hit something. Anything. Especially him.

"Enough…" He muttered, as their cute little kissing session quickly proved to be escalating to something more, dropping away from the window in frustration. No way in hell he needed to see that…

He paused at the sight of the girl, Lyds, hopping onto her bicycle some length below, apparently utterly uninterested in whatever was currently keeping her mother and father busy. She was struggling with her helmet, which looked too big, and also with the bike itself, which looked designed for someone far younger. At least it wasn't pink.

Dropping down behind her, he considered greeting her with a small scare, when her head tilted to the side, and in a small voice, she whispered, "That you?" Well, this set him off his game a little. She wasn't expecting him, couldn't see him, and still somehow knew he was there?

She confirmed it a moment later, turning her head, to look directly at him. Her eyes squished up a little, as if in this way, she could see him better, then shrugged, and sighed. "I gotta get to school… Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone." And with this, she kicked off, and managed remarkably well to ride the small bicycle away.

Beetlejuice pursed his lips, made a bit curious by how easily she'd sensed him, and thought nothing of it, not even questioning her instincts. With his current options being hanging around here with the lovebirds, and maybe getting spotted by the Maitland's, or following the kid, the second seemed pretty reasonable.

But what the hell kind of fun would that be? She was just some damn kid… Even if she was Olivia's kid. No way, after waiting that long to get out of the Neitherworld… It was time for something fun. His lips curled into his familiar smirk, as he reflected that something fun for him, always seemed to involve passing a hell of a lot of paperwork, across his former boss's desk.

But of course, that was one of the best parts.

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Lydia hated school. This was due in no small part to the fact that she was well known as her mother's daughter… The woman who celebrated Halloween year round, and thought nothing of it. Now, normally, this was actually the one quality she could stand in the woman, but to everyone else? Her mom was a freak, and she was a little copycat freak. Forget that she had entirely her own style of creepy.

The bike was too small, but as always, she was determined not to say a word to her parents about it. She hated arguing with them, and they always failed to see her side of things. No matter how reasonable she was! Those two existed in their own little world, she'd decided long ago, and she was just along for the ride. No use bitching.

Out of breath by the time the school came into sight, Lydia dropped her bike carelessly against the spotless brick wall, grimacing at the loud metallic sound of steel on stone. She no longer bothered locking it up, since everyone pretty much though it was a joke, and would only steal it on a gag. Heck, if someone stole it, maybe she could finally get a new one!

Her hair was sweaty, and stuck to her scalp by the loose fitting helmet, tossed into an even more careless version of messy than usual. Running her fingers through it, she enjoyed the brush of autumn breeze through the soft strands, then automatically made a quick check, for allies, or enemies.

Unfortunately, there were none of the former in sight, and one, just one, of the latter. Of course, she only really had one enemy. Gaudy lipstick, pressed perfect everything, not a thread out of place, Claire Brewster. Several years Lydia's elder, she had no idea why the girl had seemed to forge a personal grudge against her. But on more than one occasion, that grudge had produced nasty results.

Narrowing her eyes at hell's personal enforcer of the preppy all girl school, Lydia slunk back into the side of the building, hoping to go unnoticed. Not that she ever ran from a fight. Even if she never won. But she was already brewing enough trouble with that character she'd summoned the night before, and at least for now, avoiding her parents' notice seemed best. Which meant, for now, avoiding Claire's.

But slow-witted though the girl was, in Lydia's esteem, she attracted quite the gaggle of followers, and it was almost inevitable that one of them spot the younger goth girl. It was like watching a badly written play at a distance, imagining what they said as they giggled, pointed, and one by one, turned their gazes to her.

There had to be ten of them. Lydia bared her teeth in something like a smile, though she turned her head to conceal it. Maybe they'd walk past. Part of her hoped they wouldn't. The bitch had knocked one of her teeth loose last time, and she'd almost had to walk around for the rest of her life, with a missing front tooth. She itched to get back at her for that. Instead she inspected her bike, as if she hadn't even noticed them.

"Lydia!" A slight, unconscious flinch crossed her skin, having expected an attack, and only slowly did she relax, a true smile gracing her lips this time. That level of bubbly personality could only be Bertha. She lifted her head to confirm it. Yep, long legs, gangly, skinny, and with a smile that looked like it would hurt after a while. One of Lydia's only two friends among the living.

And there was the other, her shadow, bright orange hair, like something from a hair dye experiment gone wrong, glasses too big for her face, and despite her additional years, no taller than Lydia herself. Unlike Bertha, she wasn't smiling. She'd noticed Claire. "I think we should get out of here…" She murmured, in her often unheard little tone.

True to fashion, her taller friend didn't listen to a word she said. "I can't believe we caught you!" Bertha proclaimed, grabbing Lydia by both arms, and giving her a little squeeze. The girl did her best to bear it in good humor, considering they were the focus of so many stares. "We were about to leave… We thought you'd be late for class for sure!"

"Bertha? Lydia? Um, I think we should…" Prudence never actually finished that sentence, which was a habit of hers. She seemed to think many things went without being said, and so just didn't say them, but Lydia suspected that this wasn't the case this time.

"Looks like the gang's all here!" Came the falsely cheery voice of the private school's self appointed queen. "My god, could you be any more of a mess?" This was directed, as usual, at Lydia. "Did you stop to play in a garbage dump on your way to school?" A light, disgusted noise. "It's no wonder these two losers are drawn to you like bugs…"

Lydia made a very soft sound, under her breath, steeled herself, and lifted her head with a smile. As always, whatever her blond arch nemesis saw in the Goth's dark eyes, set her off her step. And as always, for reasons she never bothered to explain, this pissed her off to no end.

Her lip curled in a sneer, and something greedy sparked in her eyes, like an animal that's just seen something it wants to tear apart. "You pathetic little pimple," She hissed, seeming to grow more infuriated by the moment, as Lydia didn't break her gaze, or stop smiling, "Someone should have popped that smug look of yours a long time ago!"

Sensing victory, and also possibly a beating, Lydia lidded her gaze, tilted her head a little, and asked matter-of-factly, "Do you know, those stockings you're wearing are exactly the same shade as the puss sample that our science teacher made us look at under a microscope yesterday? Only at least on the slide, it was a lot easier to look away…"

"Run Lydia!" Bertha had each of her friends' arms in one hand before she got the last words out, and even as a slow eruption of fury went off behind them, they were already bolting across the freshly cut lawn. The sounds of many patent leather shoes followed, as Lydia celebrated her briefly won triumph, well aware she'd pay for it later. Despite the fear apparent in the older girl's face, she was laughing, which made it doubly hard for her not to trip over her own feet.

Prudence too, was dissolved into giggles, and finally she was the one that didn't pay enough attention to her feet, falling helplessly before their pursuers. Lydia yanked her hand free, never one to abandon a friend, balled up both fists, and charged back into the fray with a mad glint to her eyes…

"What is going on here!" It was more a shout of fury than a question, and every girl there froze, turning their heads guiltily to look on one of the upper level teachers. Only Lydia never stopped grinning. Prudence pretended to be studying one of the books she'd dropped. Everyone else looked like a deer caught in headlights.

The teacher, Miss Shannon, she thought her name was, quickly took in the now rather familiar sight before her, and immediately singled Lydia out as the cause of the trouble. No doubt due to the fact that she seemed to be enjoying it the most. A slow, angry intake of breath, before, "Miss Deetz! I will not have this display at my school! This is not the first time this has happened!"

Lydia fixed her most innocent smile on her face, tilted her head in the manner she had, and did her best to play a part she was never meant to play. "We were just hurrying to class Miss Shannon." She lied with a straight face, her tone sweet as honey. "The bell's about to…" As if this were a cue, or perhaps as if she just had an extraordinary sense of timing, the bell chose that moment of ring.

Miss Shannon of course, was not fooled for a moment. "I will see you after school, Miss Deetz." She said softly, taking one step back, before turning around, and walking away. The desire to fight sang through every one of the girl's behind her, but at a pause, and a sharply cleared throat, they dissipated to a one, for class.

Lydia of course, was well aware she'd avoided nothing… Not for long anyway.

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He was haunting a goddamn yard. Winter River was more boring than he remembered, and what was worse, the few resident ghosts he'd ever been able to stomach had apparently crossed over in the time he'd been away. Not that a single one had bothered looking him up in the afterlife… And with Olivia being hovered over at all times by those idiots inside, Beetlejuice had finally produced a deck of cards, gone up on the roof, and proceeded to throw them out, one at a time, into the tops of the nearby trees.

This being out shit was worthless, if he couldn't get out enough to keep from getting called back. Olivia was married now, damn if he didn't regret it, as much as he still hated her. Still all swept up in creepy and dark, like when she'd been a kid. He supposed if he hung around a while, he could eventually marry her daughter. Girl might even have some of her mother's looks… He just had to play nice until she was old enough.

Snorting, Beetlejuice turned the ace of spades between his fingers a few times, reflecting that someone, somewhere, had to be better suited for the arrangement. He just couldn't see himself hanging out with a kid for three or four years, until she was 'old enough…'

Remembering the morbid fascination in her eyes the night before though, as she hung on his every trick, still made him smile. Apparently the Maitlands were still a couple of sticks-in-the-asses, if that impressed her. But that girl… She was just bursting with pent-up energy, humming with life like it poured out her fingertips. And like him, she was just looking for trouble.

If she were older, it would be a match made in heaven. Maybe hell. But as it was, she was just his ex's brat. He pursed his lips, flung the ace into empty air, and watched as it fluttered down…

Pausing at the sight of the very kid in question, now pushing her bike home, rather than riding. He narrowed his eyes, wondering why she was walking funny. Was she limping? What the hell kind of trouble could a kid her age get into, in that short amount of time?

She looked up as the ace landed at her feet, and he was startled to see a rather large bruise now neatly gracing much of her face, and dried blood that had come from god only knew where. When she turned to the side though, and spat, it was clear that much of it came from her mouth. She looked in a foul mood, but that didn't explain the soft laughter coming from her lips.

"My mom, is going to kill me." She said to him matter-of-factly, as if he were right there in front of her, and not on the roof. "She said that if I got in one more fight, she was going to paint my room pink." She spat again, tested a tooth with her finger, and even as he dropped down before her, frowning, asked lightly. "Think she'll believe I fell off my bike?"

Beetlejuice bent down, grabbed her by the chin with one hand, and tipped her face up sharply. She hissed, but otherwise didn't complain. "What the hell tried to kill you?" He asked bluntly, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't even visible yet. Not that it seemed to matter to the girl. "'Cause they did a piss poor job of it, if you're still breathing!"

"Eh, they'll keep trying until they get it right." She brushed him aside, straightened slowly, and looked up at the house with a frown. "Give them some pointers, it'll take less time." He snorted, still considering her dubiously, as she wiped a thick smear of red from her face with a torn sleeve. "Now they, on the other hand," She gestured vaguely behind him, "They are going to kill me."

For reasons he didn't quite comprehend, it annoyed him to see her beat up like this. She was just a damn kid, what the hell could she have done to deserve it? Looked like a few people had helped too… As he watched, she bent over, picked up the card he'd dropped, and looked at it with a little frown. "This is supposed to be bad luck, right?" She reflected, handing it to him. "Not sure about the rest of them, but the ace of spades… that's like the death card, right?"

"Forget the damn card!" It was surprisingly close to anger, and immediately he quieted his voice, wondering irritably where that had come from. "You're a breather, kid. You take too many beatings like this one though, that's not going to last. You in that big a hurry to be on this side?"

Lydia looked up at him, her eyes like darkness swept up into deep little pools, and shook her head with a frown. "I don't like, Claire." She said simply, as if that explained why she apparently didn't care that she'd just gotten her ass kicked. "The girl needs to be buried up to her neck… Upside down. Under water." A pause, then as an afterthought, "In cement."

His eyebrows swept up. "A chick did this to you?" He asked, though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Women did fight dirty…

"About ten 'chicks.'" She corrected bluntly, pulling what looked like a broken sucker out of her pocket. She twisted the stick off, popped it in her mouth, and made a face. "Thing tastes like blood…" She muttered aloud, as if this were strange.

"So, anyway," She went on, her words garbled by the mouthful of sweet, "I have to go get reamed by the living and the dead… Nothing strange about that." A pause then, and a slow look of satisfaction. "Gotta tell you though… Claire? She's gonna need a lot of make-up tomorrow."

Beetlejuice turned this too, over in his mind. "Look, kid…" He started, irritated with her for getting beat up, which would only make her mother readier than usual to send his own name up his ass. "I gotta figure this is something you do a lot, right? So try not to drag me into it, and you can do whatever the hell you want." With that, he shoved his hands in his pockets, and returned to the roof. This was her problem. Let her deal with it.

"I appreciate your concern!" She yelled to the world at large, before throwing her bike, which looked broken, in the direction of the garage, and leaving it there. And as she limped into the house, Beetlejuice just watched, wondering if the whole damn family really was just crazy…

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Lydia walked up the stairs to her room, her ears still ringing, and her various cuts raw with the stuff Barb had smeared on them. Through the whole thing, she'd been as distant as usual, until the group of adults pretty much gave up yelling at the girl, whose sole interest seemed to be the card she was turning over between her fingers, like it was some oddity.

As her hand rested on the doorknob though, she hesitated. Not because she was having second thoughts, her instructions to 'go there and stay there' had been pretty specific, but because she used that moment to hope that something entertaining lay on the other side of the door. He'd seemed pretty upset with her, not that she knew why.

Cracking the door, she peeked through, and found him reclining on her bed, looking up with a twisted little expression at her canopy, covered in odd symbols she'd drawn with a permanent marker. For a minute she just stared, before her cheeks flushed, hot and embarrassed. What was he doing on her bed? She'd never had a guy on her bed before… Well, Adam and her dad, but they didn't count.

Remembering how angry he'd been, she decided to blow off a little steam herself, and slammed the door behind her, not even making him sit up. "You know what all that shit you drew up there means?" He prompted, correctly assuming that she'd been the one to do the drawing. "'Cause if you're trying to summon what I think you're trying to summon, you made a few mistakes. Want some tips?"

"Not really." Her mouth drawn up, painfully she might add, she regarded him in her spot, and decided to take his instead. Not that pulling herself up on her dresser, in her current condition, was easy. She was still trying to do it, when she felt something grab her by the back of the shirt, heave her up, and drop her, rather carelessly. She turned with a glare to find him precisely where she'd left him.

"So here's the deal, kid." He began absently, as if this had been troubling him for a while now, "I tried to marry your moms back then, because she was my best way out."

"Out?" Lydia echoed slowly. "Out of where?"

He dismissed this with a flick of his fingers. "Don't interrupt, babes. So anyway, those Maitland yahoos had gotten themselves in a pretty nasty spot, and I agreed to save their sorry asses, if your moms would get hitched with me. Business arrangement. Nothing personal, no strings… So she says yes." And here he sat up, slowly, looking pissed. "And I save them, and they feed me to a goddamn sandworm!"

Lydia frowned. "Bum deal." She said slowly, not certain what a sandworm was, but pretty sure getting eaten by one wasn't much fun.

The poltergeist tilted his head, gave her a hiss through his teeth, and muttered, "You think? Anyway." He started digging through his pockets, continuing his story, while to all appearances ignoring her. "I get sent to sit in this shitty little waiting room, listening to elevator music, for… what, years? Only to get reamed out by Juno, for what she called," And here he bared his teeth again, "Unethical practices. I mean, what the hell?"

He trailed off after this, for about a full minute, not even rummaging in his pockets anymore. Then abruptly, he pulled the ring out, the one she'd found with that bizarre and otherworldly dress, and considered it there, between thumb and forefinger. "Do you know how long, I'd been saving this damn ring for? I mean, sure, I got a couple broads to wear it, but it always went to shit before anything went through."

Lydia just stared at him, wondering where he was going with this. This had apparently been eating him up inside for a while, maybe since he'd gotten eaten by that worm thing. She had the sense that he just wanted to get it off his chest, and she was just the best available.

Strangely though, she didn't mind. She had a feeling he wouldn't have told her this stuff if she'd asked, and here he was, pouring it all out without her saying a word.

Now he made a rude noise, flipped the ring up in the air, and caught it in the palm of his hand. "You know what? I don't want the damn thing anymore. Too many bad memories. You keep it." And he flicked the bit of shining metal towards her, already lying back down.

Making a move to catch it, she paused in bafflement as it faded from midair. Her hand still outstretched, she was about to question it, when she felt something cold hit her palm. There it was, she hadn't even had to catch it. She turned it over in her palm, like some bug she thought might bite her, then looked up at Beetlejuice with a frown. "Okay, my mom messed you over pretty good, but don't you think I'm a little young for you?"

A short, sharp laugh. "You still going on about that crap? Forget it. I wouldn't marry you if you were old enough. You're probably just as big a bitch as your mother." He quickly followed this with a heavy grunt as something hit him in the stomach, apparently not expecting her to retaliate.

He lifted the lamp, looked at her dubiously, and then gave her his most feral expression. "You really want to start something with me, kid?" He prompted softly.

"You really think I care how strong you are?" She retorted, matching his look with one as dangerous of her own. "Do I look like I care if someone can beat the crap out of me?" Her fingers swept past her lip, which had started bleeding again, and wiped the smudge away on her dirty blouse.

Beetlejuice frowned, annoyed with her, but getting the idea that bluffs wouldn't work on this one. And he wasn't the kind of guy who'd actually hurt a kid… "You are a bitch." He said matter-of-factly, tossing the lamp to the side, hoping it would break. It didn't.

"Yeah, okay." She seemed to have no problem with this, sitting back a little, and still considering him with a frown. "And so is she, I don't deny it for a minute. But she's my mom, so watch it, or…"

He lifted one eyebrow slowly, drawing up into a sitting position. His arms hooked carelessly around his knees. "Or what?" He prompted softly, doing his best not to smile, well aware that she was the one bluffing now.

Indeed, a moment later, she sighed, and looked annoyed. "I don't know. You're the most interesting thing around here, I don't really want to send you back." She toyed with a scab on her knee until it started bleeding again, looking anywhere but at him. "Why are you still hanging out around here, anyway? This place is boring."

She should never have admitted she didn't want to send him away, and he was pretty sure she knew it, too. "Maybe I still got the hots for your mom." He challenged flippantly, seeing if she'd rise to this. When she just smiled, he added, "Think I got a chance?"

"Not even." She denied, not even pausing to think it over. "My dad treats her like some kind of goddess come to earth, or something. I've even heard him call her that." She smirked. "'My sexy little goddess.' And mom just eats it up." A pause, then, "I thought you said it was just business, anyway?"

"It was, just business." He corrected, chuckling slowly. "But that woman has gone from dark and morbid, to dark and damn sexy. No way I'm just leaving her without at least catching up on old times." He bared his teeth, both with anger and amusement, and wondered what that meeting would be like.

Then, pausing as an idea came to him, he lifted his head slowly, a positively devilish smile growing across his pale features. "Lyds, babes… Think you could do a little favor for me?"

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