AN: Let's get something straightened out. William is Beetlejuice. Emily is Nightshade. Beetlejuice/William and Nightshade/Emily have never been, nor ever will be, romantically involved. Kay? Kay. Thanks to Starling Powers, MarjorieAnnMurray, and Animekitty47 for their reviews. Also, Out-of-the-inside-box did a bit of fan art of Nights (http:// .com /art/BJ-and-NS-143016861). You should check it out. Also, I have a drawing of Derrick up. Now read!


Nightshade sat on the wood fence, her elbows on her knees, chin resting in her hands, and watched Derrick give one of his horses a bath.

It had been a week since they met, and the ghost still didn't have a plan. One would think six hundred years would give one time to come up with a revenge plan. But Nights was drawin' a blank. And it didn't help her any when a wee tiny voice in the back of her head kept saying she really didn't want to hurt the kid.

Derrick looked at Nights over the red mare's back. "How can you wear that? It's August!"

Nights glanced at her usual outfit of black trench coat, red blouse, black pants, boots, and fedora. "I'm dead," she answered with a shrug.

"So what, you can't feel heat?"

"I can."

"It just doesn't bother you?"

"Yup. Why do you wear jeans everyday?"

"'Cause I'm a cowboy, doll."

They were silent as Derrick washed the suds off the horse.

"Ace?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"What are you doin' today?"

"Gotta get ready for tonight's rodeo."

"You go to rodeos?"

Derrick chuckled and ran a brush through the horse's mane. Nights was shocked when she found herself slightly jealous. Apparently, she wanted Derrick to brush her hair.

"I'm in the rodeo, Nights."

That little crazy feeling of jealousy was quickly replaced with curiosity. "Really? What do you do?"

"You'll just have to come and find out."


Nights had been to several rodeos in the Neitherworld. It was one of the best places to make some quick cash. It was also rather entertaining, in a sadistic way. It was pretty damn hilarious when a demon stallion tramples its rider. She's seen a rider have hoof marks on his face for a week!

But this was the first time she had been to a Livingworld rodeo.

There was a different kind of thrill here. Probably because they could actually die. So there was that adrenaline rush associated with life-or-death entertainment.

All the races were over, and now it was time for the bull rides.

Derrick had said he was in the rodeo, but Nightshade hadn't seem him yet.

"Probably workin' concession," she muttered, playing with the woman's hair who sat in front of her. She grinned when the redhead turned around to glare at the man behind Nights. Being invisible definitely had its advantages!

She continued to annoy the redhead a six cowboys failed to ride whatever unlucky bull they got. Nights was getting bored, and she was going to leave when she heard the announcer's voice.

"And now, our youngest bull rider: Derrick Blackthorn!"

Nightshade forgot about her victim and sat up straight, her gaze going towards the pen that held the next bull.

"Oh, shit," she said as the announcer started again.

"This crazy cowboy has decided to try his luck with Reaver, the nastiest bull we got. As I'm sure y'all know, Reaver is undefeated. Iffin ya ask me, I'd say there's a lady he wants ta impress."

The crowd laughed and cheered. Nights, on the other hand, screamed.

"Derrick, you idiot! If yer tryin' ta be macho fer me, then I'll kick yer ass!" Of course, it wasn't as if anybody could hear her.

Her idiot breather was in the saddle, ready to get himself killed.

The clock started, and the gat opened. Reaver shot out and immediately started bucking enough to give a statue whiplash.

Derrick lasted 1.3 seconds when Reaver tossed him off. He landed on the ground with a scream, his white western shirt turning crimson in a few places.

Reaver twirled around, ready to charge the kid.

There was no way in hell Nights was gonna let some animal gouge her breather. Nights was gonna get her revenge her way, and when she wanted it.

The ghost flew to the charging animal, and possessed it. She figured it would be the fastest way to stop it.

She didn't think she'd have to fight for control, though.

She wanted to trample that annoying little human. That would teach the others to make an entertainment out of her. So what if she killed him? He should have realized he could die when he picked her. Now, she was going to--

No! Nightshade silently screamed. I'm the one in control!

Reaver had other ideas and fought the ghost, managing to get a few feet closer before Nights stopped him.

Damnit, animals were supposed to be easy!

The bull got control again, but Nights gained total control at the last possible moment, the bull's horns inches from Derrick's stomach. Nights' bull heart was pounding from both her panic and Reaver's exertions.

"You okay, Ace?" Nights asked with the bull's mouth. Hey, she was poltergeist, she could do it.

"Nights?" Derrick asked in a ragged voice.

"Hey."

He took a quick breath and winced. "I think my ribs are broken. And my arm. It hurts . . ."

"I know, I know. Why aren't those clown idiots helpin'?"

"'Cause Reaver's here. They won't get close to him."

"Once he leaves, they'll come help you?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, you pathetic excuse fer a burger," she growled (which was really weird, since she was a bull), forcing the animal to back up. Nightshade spun around and ran to the pen. She didn't relent on any control until the bull was in the pen with the gate shut behind them.


Nights stood in the corner of the hospital room, invisible, as the nurses did their thing. She wanted a smoke, but they'd smell it, so she settled for an argument with herself.

"Why the hell did I do that?"

Because you don't want him to get hurt.

"No, I want him to hurt. That's the whole point of revenge."

You don't want revenge.

"The hell I don't! The reason I'm dead is 'cause his some-odd-great granddaddy."

And what's the point of taking it out on him? And what would it accomplish? It's not like his death would bring you back!

"And who said I wanted to be alive again?! I never said that! I like being dead."

So shouldn't you thank him, instead of trying to ruin his life?

"How dare you be logical!"

One of us has to be.

"I'm done talkin' to you," she told the annoying voice, crossing her arms. This voice had decided to make itself known when she met Derrick. It kept telling her she didn't want to do anything bad to the kid, and it would find flaws in all her plans. What the hell did it know?!

After the nurses left, Nightshade made herself visible. She pushed off the wall with her shoulder blades, and walked the few steps to Derrick's bed. Nights sat on the edge, and gave him a half smile.

"Soooo, two broken ribs, and a humorous fractured in three places."

"Yeah," he said weakly.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?! Ridin' a monster like that!"

"Glad to know you care."

"Yeah, well, yer my . . . yer my friend," she mumbled, looking away, and rubbing the back of her neck.

See? I told you!!

Nightshade ignored the little voice.

"Hey, Ace, I, uh, got somethin' fer ya," she said, standing up and digging through one of her pockets of her trench coat. Nights loved those pockets. They could hold anything, and they did hold anything. She had a cannon in one of them somewhere (hey, never know when you'll need one), and possibly a flamethrower. At one point in time, there had been a cow, a complete jazz band, and a grand piano. Don't ask.

Derrick watched, curious, as the ghost pulled out various packs of cigarettes, some bottles of rum and whiskey, a broken zipper, hot pink shoelaces, a rock, a gold scarab, and a Playboy.

She looked at the magazine in her hand, then at Derrick.

"This isn't mine."

"They why was it in your pocket?"

"Ummmm . . . I think I was holdin' it for somebody." More like Beetlejuice put it there.

"Uh-huh."

"Anyway," she said, putting the magazine in the pile on the bed. "None of this crap is what I'm lookin' for . . ." Nights went back to her excavation.

After she pulled out a few more random things (including a feather and CD player), she finally found it.

"Um, here," she said, handing Derrick a black braided bracelet with blood red and black alternating beads.

He took it, and held it up. "A bracelet?" he asked, brow raised.

"Yeah," she muttered, returning her stuff to her pockets. It wasn't anything special, but if he accepted it, she'd have a closer link with him. Just to, y'know, have a greater impact with her revenge.

Uh-huh, sure it is.

"Shut up!" Nights growled under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothin'!" she told Derrick with a grin.

The breather shrugged with one shoulder. He held out the bracelet to her. "I can't put it on. Help?"

"Of course, my little invalid," she said, slipping the bracelet on his left wrist. She could feel the slight tug on her consciousness as the link was established. Only there for revenge purposes.


AN: Fun fact about Derrick! "Derrick" is how I've always spelled "Derek" because I originally thought it was correct, and now it's just what I do. A few days ago I discovered this: "Derrick: Machinery. a jib crane having a boom hinged near the base of the mast so as to rotate about the mast, for moving a load toward or away from the mast by raising or lowering the boom. Also called oil derrick the towerlike framework over an oil well or the like. a boom for lifting cargo, pivoted at its inner end to a ship's mast or kingpost, and raised and supported at its outer end by topping lifts." . . . . . . . . TOO LATE TO CHANGE IT NOW!!! Okay, so next chapter won't be up till after my x-mas story, which I'm working on now. Have fun!