Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

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--

"Yes…" She hissed aloud, something strangling her voice so much that she barely recognized it as her own. "As a matter of fact, my daughter was telling the truth." A brief pause for the other to speak, during which time her eyebrows flew up, then pressed down, in an angry line. "No, as a matter of fact, I did not give her permission. But if she wants to wear the damn ring in class, that's really the least of my problems right now!"

With this, she slammed the phone down on the receiver, hard even to crack the plastic joint holding it to the wall. The entire phone fell to the floor with a crack, but Olivia didn't give it so much as a second glance. The front door had just opened. That meant Lydia was home.

Still very ready to vent her anger, Olivia came out of the kitchen to see her daughter running up the stairs, a blur of dark colors. "Lydia!" She yelled furiously, starting after her. "I can't believe you're actually telling people about that… that thing! Do you have any idea…?"

Her daughter spun on her, halfway up the stairs, and fixed her with a look of pure rage and desperation. "Leave me the hell alone!" She cried, making the woman take a back step. Never before had her daughter talked to her this way before… "I'm having a hard enough day without having to listen to your bullshit too!"

Olivia's breath hissed in through her teeth, and she was about to reply, when she reminded herself just what her daughter had gotten herself into. Who knew what had happened today? So she gritted her teeth, and took a step back, going against every instinct to strike now, when it would clearly hurt most. Damn her. This was all her fault anyway… She expected sympathy now too?

Lydia grabbed for the door of her bedroom, and shoved it, hard, but the heavy wooden frame refused to budge. She froze for a moment in disbelief, then twisted the knob harder, and pushed again. Still nothing.

Spinning around with a near-fanatical look in her eyes, her gaze passed up and down the hall for no more than three seconds, before coming to a rest not five feet from her mother. "Goddamn it, Beetlejuice!" She snapped, making her mother flinch at the unwelcome name. "Let me in my fucking room!"

He appeared, almost casually, as if well aware she'd know where he was the whole time, and bared his teeth, in nothing like a smile. He drew in a deep breath of smoke, cast it out between his sharp teeth, and hissed, "Make me, babes."

For a long moment, they just stood there, staring daggers at each other, before Lydia threw her hands up, and headed down the hall instead, towards the bathroom. No sooner had she reached it, than this door too, slammed shut in her face. Beetlejuice didn't laugh, the look on his face was pure bitterness, but he still considered her with that ever present smirk.

Lydia turned on him again, this time slowly, her eyes flashing in emotions that passed them too quickly for her mother to read. She meanwhile, was taking several slow steps back, looking from one to the other with an utterly baffled gaze. Her daughter seemed to have no fear at all of the man who'd haunted her own nightmares for many years. In fact, at the moment, she looked ready to strangle him with her bare hands.

The standoff drew out again, until Olivia cleared her throat, feeling as out of her depths as anything. "Lydia?" She prompted, not liking the helpless feeling that gripped her whenever he was around, as he now seemed more determined than ever to be. "What happened?"

"What happened?" A mad little half smile flashed across her face, and she gave a choked little laugh. "What happened was that Mr. Big and Bad here walked in on Deputy Garin holding my hand, and threw the mother of all fucking fits!" She advanced a step on him, and his eyes, much to Olivia's shock, actually grew wary. "Never mind that all the guy said was to call him when I was eighteen. Never mind that I'd just said that wasn't going to happen. Forget the fact that he was about to fucking let go anyway…"

At this point she seemed to run out of breath, and just glowered at him, until even the mighty Beetlejuice looked like he wanted to squirm. "You fucking lunatic!" She growled, both hands curled into fists. "You fucking bastard!"

"Prove it." He snapped back, though even his voice sounded a little hoarse. "Prove there wasn't something going on between you back there!"

Her eyes, if anything, went more wild. "Prove it?" She echoed, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper. "You practically pick the goddamn building off its foundation, shake it up, and drop it… In front of all those fucking people… And you think I've got a damn thing to prove to you?"

She closed her eyes at this point, a massive shudder ripping through her, then turned on her heel, marched right past her mother, and left them both there. Beetlejuice didn't hesitate a second in following her, which moved him right past the place where Olivia stood. Doing her level best to sink into the wall, Olivia did all she could not to let him touch her, but he didn't even spare her a glance.

"Lyds!" He was yelling back at her, still pissed off enough for both of them. "You wanna know what you've got to prove to me…?"

Olivia stood there, silently, in shock, and shaking, as the sounds of the fight moved down the hall, and into the kitchen. Her mouth was dry, her head was spinning… When had she lost control over her own house? Who the hell was this girl that looked like her daughter, and stared the devil in the eye without flinching?

Slowly her hand sought the rail, some protective instinct telling her to follow them down the stairs, to do what she could for her daughter, even while every other grain of common sense she had, told her to hide until this was over.

A sound of breaking glass. She reached the kitchen just in time to see Lydia throwing another half empty glass at Beetlejuice's head, only to have him lift one finger in an almost absent dismissal, and have the projectile veer off to the side at the last moment. He didn't so much as flinch, as it shattered against the wall, not two feet away. Olivia on the other hand, most certainly did.

"You're supposed to be alive now, you son-of-a-bitch!" Lydia was roaring, throwing two more glasses and a plate, none of which hit him, before collapsing against the counter in apparent exhaustion, just glaring. "So stop fucking haunting me…" She muttered, almost under her breath. "Just leave me the hell alone, okay?"

"Leave you the hell alone?" His face contorted, into something so far from human that even Lydia took a step back. It couldn't have helped that, through it, he was smiling. "Fine! You win! Happy now?" He took a step back, and waved his arm. Even as he vanished, his last words floated across them, no less furious. "I'll leave you the hell alone, babes!"

Lydia glared at the spot where he'd been, something in her features seeming, if anything, even angrier, now that he was gone. "So that's it?" She whispered, clearly to herself. "Fine. See the fuck if I care." But obviously she did care. She cared so much that she was shaking.

She turned, and picked up another glass. Olivia flinched, expecting her to throw it, but she just walked to the sink, and drew herself some water. Her throat has to be sore from all that screaming… Olivia reflected, before realizing that it was now just the two of them. As her mother, surely she was expected to say something…

"Lydia," She prompted, trying to sound gentle, and still sounding largely annoyed, "Is everything…?" She broke off then. Was everything what? Was everything all right? No, clearly everything was not all right… "I warned you, you know." She hated how empty her own voice sounded. "I warned you, and you didn't listen." What the hell was she saying? This wasn't helping anything! She opened her mouth to try again…

"Honey!" It was Barbara's cry, utterly shaken and scared for the girl, as she swept into the room, gathering Lydia up in both arms. "We couldn't get out of the attic! My god, are you all right?" And of course, when Barbara Maitland said it, it sounded like exactly the right thing to say. "Did he hurt you?" Adam, behind her, was positively glowering with rage and protectiveness, as he looked on.

And Lydia? Lydia accepted a comfort that Olivia didn't know how to offer. From the woman who had once offered her the same, in her own mother's stead. Olivia looked anywhere else. After a moment, she reached for the broom, intending to sweep up the mess, only to have Adam take it gently from her grasp. "I'll get that," He said quietly, "Lydia needs you right now."

But of course, Lydia didn't need her, did she? Olivia's lips thinned, and again she tried to find the right thing to say. "I'm just glad that you're safe." She said at last, reaching over, and squeezing her daughter's hand. Lydia looked at her like she didn't even know her. Once more, then. "I thought things would be a lot worse…"

Lydia drew from Barbara's arms, and fixed her mother with a steely look. "What, so now you care?" She asked coldly. Despite herself, Olivia flinched, and after a moment, her daughter's eyes softened. "Sorry," She mumbled, looking away, "I didn't mean that." Only of course, she had.

Her mother shook her head, slowly, trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong. What she'd done to drive her only daughter into that creature's arms. It had to be her fault. She couldn't blame Edmond. She certainly couldn't blame Adam and Barbara. "I just don't know what to do…" She heard herself saying aloud, and almost winced at the defeated tone in her own voice.

"You don't have to do anything, mom." Lydia assured her, putting her hand on the older woman's shoulder. "It's my problem, I'll take care of it." Then she walked away, and when even Barbara moved to follow, looked over her shoulder with a shake of her head. "I kinda need to be alone right now, okay?"

"Sure, sweetheart." Barbara murmured softly. Only once Lydia was gone, did she then turn to her other living friend. Her eyes went soft at the stressed pain in Olivia's eyes. "Oh Liv," She turned to her, sweeping her up in her arms next, like she was still a little girl, "I know this is so hard on you… First Edmond, then Lydia…"

It made her feel like shit. She didn't deserve to be comforted, and she still loved it, turning her face into Barb's shoulder like a small child. Finally, the tears she hadn't been able to release for so long flowed down her cheeks, and a soft sob escaped her chest. "I'm so sorry, you guys." She whispered, referring to her unforgivable words a few days before. "I never should have said what I said. I know you love Lydia just as much as I do…"

"It's okay, Liv." It was Adam speaking now, his voice sounded tight, but when she looked up, he was smiling. "You were our daughter long before she was… We're not about to stop caring about you over a few hurt feelings." He came in to add his arms to the hug, and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "We're family." He finished simply.

Yes, yes, they were family. God, they were the only family she'd ever really felt like she had. And somewhere along the way, she'd held on to that feeling of protection, nurturing, and safety, while even her daughter had become more independent than she dared. Olivia wiped her eyes, and felt about two feet tall. "God, I'm such a bitch…" She whispered, more to herself than them.

"It happens to the best of us." Barbara said matter-of-factly, never mind that it was a lie. "Now why don't I make some hot chocolate, and we'll figure out what to do next." It was of course, the last thing Olivia should do, turning to these two again for the answers, to sooth her hurt, to comfort her fears. But she did. Because unlike her daughter, she still didn't feel strong enough to do this without them…

--

Fucking bitch! He stood facing the wall, glaring at nothing at all. More than anything, he wanted to ram his head against it a few times. He resisted the urge, and just gave his most fey grin to the flat surface, inches away. She wanted him to leave her the hell alone? Fine. He would leave her the hell alone.

Striking the wall with the back of his hand, leaving his knuckles throbbing, he pulled out of the alley, and considered the world at large, ready and eager to vent his frustrations. Just let someone cross him now… Hell, let someone look at him funny! He popped his knuckles with his thumb, squared his shoulders, and emerged back onto the street, looking for trouble, and well aware of it.

Eyes followed him, there was no question of that, but to a one, every person he passed by just quickened their pace, and hurried on. No surprise there, he looked ready to kill. The living, proof otherwise be damned, weren't as stupid as they let on.

He was mad at the world. Mad at the bright sunny day, the calm breeze, the happy people… Albeit people who avoided his gaze like the devil's… And most of all, pissed at the little bitch who once again, left him feeling about as omnipotent as a damp match.

How the hell could she do this to him? Him? The ghost with the most, the… The fucking bioexorcist that had brought down the best and the worst the living world had to offer? He'd met sandworms that had gotten under his skin less!

Kicking a piece of trash, he fell to muttering to himself, eyes cast uselessly on his boots. "Leave me the hell alone… Stop haunting me… Never really been haunted by me, have you, you little…" He scowled. That's what he should do. He should haunt her good. He remembered with a sickened little twist of his lips how she'd cried out back there in the diner… Beetlejuice! You're scaring me! And of course he'd let her off the hook, like a sap. "Oughta really scare her…"

He stopped, because the light was red, and as pissed as he was, he didn't really want to throw his new life away on the hood of some passing car, all for that little girl. He lifted his hand, on impulse, and snapped his fingers, making the light green again. A squeal of tires told him it hadn't been expected, but what did he give a damn? The smell of burning rubber followed him as he crossed the street, and continued down the road.

All she did was string him along, like this was some kind of fucking game…Like he was… And of course, this was where he ran out of steam. Not like he was. Like she wasn't. Like she wasn't scared of him at all. He shook his head, eyes narrowed. Like hell I'm not scary, he thought, glancing at his reflection in a passing window.

And pausing. God, I look like hell. Or at least death warmed over. With so long without access to a mirror, he'd really let himself go. He ran his hand over his hair, which looked about as groomed as some debris piles he'd passed on the street, and scowled at himself. He needed to clean up. When was the last time he'd done that? Not that he smelled, or anything…

His fingers tugged at his chin, and he regarded himself with something of a look of disgust. Well hell, no wonder she didn't want him touching her! Still didn't have to go after that GQ wannabe… Suddenly remembering his fury, he snapped his fingers, and the glass before him cracked, straight down the middle.

Turning back on his way, he concentrated on little more than his feet again, trying to deny the idea that any of this was his fault. She'd been the one flirting. Like he wasn't supposed to get pissed… Though maybe he had gone a bit over the top.

Shit, I wonder if Juno saw that… He stopped again, frowning, and turned this over in his mind. Ah, hell… He didn't even know if she was still looking in on him, but it seemed a good bet. Maybe he wasn't strictly dead anymore, but he wasn't strictly alive now either, was he? Not if he still had his juice. And he sure as hell wasn't giving that up.

"Devil's own luck, my ass." He muttered aloud, some of his rage finally dripping away, and leaving him more than anything, feeling sorry for himself. "He's a sorry mother-fucker, if that's true…"

Damn. Now he had to make up with Lydia. Except she'd told him to leave her the hell alone. To stop haunting her. Damn it. He closed his eyes, and lifted his face to feel the sun. Not that it did a thing to warm him now… "Babes," He said aloud, as if to the girl who couldn't hear, "There are fates worse than being dead in this world… And damned if I haven't gotten myself into a fix now."

She was the only one who could drive him this crazy. There had to be a reason for that. And it wasn't that he wanted to apologize, but… Hell, she probably wouldn't even let him.

Just give her time to cool off, Beetlejuice, he finally decided, grimacing, It's not like she can stay pissed forever… Hell, not at you. Now if only he could convince himself to believe it…

--

She wasn't mad. She wasn't.

Well, actually, yes she was, she was pissed… But more than mad, she was scared. Not of Beetlejuice, mind. Even at his worst, he hadn't so much as twitched a finger against her. Pretty much, she was scared of herself, because she'd lost control back there even worse than he had. Hell, if she could have, she would have picked up the room, turned it, and dropped it on him!

Shivering a little, she closed her eyes, slumped across her bed, and stared pointedly at the darkness behind them. Leave me the hell alone… Was that what she wanted? For him to just, disappear? God knew it would make things easier for her… But easier wasn't necessarily better.

Then again, she'd be able to have a guy flirt with her a little, without worrying he'd suffer permanent damage at her undead husband's psychopathic hand. She grimaced at this. Who knew he was that crazy over her, that he'd pull something like that? It was stupid. And it still made her heart race a little. Damn him for being so confusing.

Squeezing her blanket hard in either hand for a second, she released it again as she sat up, and tried to think it through logically. Probably no one she knew had been there. The only person who could link her to what had happened back there was Deputy Garin… Hell, no one would believe him. Not that he couldn't still make life difficult for her. She winced a little at the memory of not only fear in his eyes, but hate. Like he blamed her personally for Beetlejuice's actions.

"No one's responsible for Beetlejuice, but Beetlejuice." She murmured aloud, certain this was true, and still unable to shake just a trace of guilt. She should have just pulled away. Hell, what was she thinking? That it would somehow work between her and this cop, despite her being married? And she didn't know a damn thing about him anyway, to even decide if she'd want it to…

She'd let him turn her head, just because he'd said she was pretty. And he hadn't even really said it. But that doesn't make it my fault, she reminded herself stubbornly, getting slowly to her feet. No one in their right mind would go crazy like that, just from seeing their wife hold another guy's hand. Would they? No, surely not…

Which left it of course, that Beetlejuice was not in his right mind. But how could he be? He'd been dead for, how long now? She didn't even know. But that had to change a guy. Then again, Adam and Barb were dead too. They weren't nuts. They were great.

It all went back to him, being unstable, dangerous… "Stupid." She added aloud, with a hiss. "God, if he's trying to impress me, he's going about it majorly the wrong way!" Except of course, that this wasn't as true as she wanted it to be, because she was impressed. And that in turn, made her feel bad all over again.

Lydia gave herself a long, stern look in the mirror. A sort of, 'you know you better shape up, right?' kind of look. She didn't buy it for an instant. "He is an asshole." She tried next, aloud. "A dangerous, jealous…" And here she broke off. Who would have figured anyone would ever be jealous over her? She scowled at her reflection. She was not supposed to be flattered by that bullshit back there.

I look pretty when I'm mad. She shook her head. What a random thought. She was tired, needed sleep, that was all. She looked out the window, and was surprised to find that it was already dark. Hell, how long had she been fuming? She ran her hand across her eyes, and was surprised when this was followed by a yawn. Wonder what time it is…

She glanced at a clock, and was shocked again to see that it was eleven thirty-four. Hell. She still had to get up in the morning. "On the plus side," She mused to herself, starting to pull her shirt off, "If Garin hasn't showed up by now…"

And she paused, shirt half off, staring at the mirror. Oh, hell no. She put her shirt back on, put both hands on the mirror, and turned it deliberately towards the wall. No peep show tonight.

Once properly dressed, it should have been easy to fall asleep. She was tired enough, that was for sure. Instead, again, she lay in bed, and stared at the back of her eyelids. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice… Three little words, that had absolutely no power anymore. She'd let him out. There was no way to put him back, even if she wanted to.

Did she want to? No, that was a question she wasn't ready to ask just yet… "Damn you, Beetlejuice." She muttered aloud, rolling to her side, and closing her eyes more tightly. She had to get up early tomorrow. One way or another, she had to get some sleep.

And Beetlejuice? The hell with him.

--

He was determined to just peek in for a minute… See if she was still raising hell over what he'd pulled. God, he hoped she wasn't crying again…

Much to his relief, Lydia was asleep. She looked exhausted. He hovered next to her bed, his feet a mere few inches off the floor, and considered her with a frown. She took things way too seriously. That was her problem. Then, he had been the one to almost blow up the place. Guess that was kind of stupid…

He wanted to reach out to her. To brush the hair from her face, to… Hell, to kiss her. She'd probably deck him though. Might be worth it… He remembered their first kiss. Their only kiss, except the one at the wedding. He preferred thinking of their first kiss though, less anger involved. At least for him.

"Lyds, what am I going to do with you?" It was said very softly, and then he moved away, settling against the wall a few feet away. The bottle in his hand was filled with some dark liquid… Alcohol, he knew. Other than that, it could be anything. But it was strong, and that was what he needed. He put it to his lips, and took a deep draw. Immediately he made a disgusted face. God, he used to drink that stuff?

Being alive had made him soft. He frowned, considering the sleeping girl. Hell, she had made him soft. He hadn't planned on that… He took another deep drink, and closed his eyes, frustrated. How had he come to this? Watching Olivia's kid, my wife, he reminded himself darkly, sleep, while he stood there getting shit-faced? Ah, Beetlejuice, you're losing it, buddy…

His eye was caught by a wad of papers on her dresser, they looked like they'd been crumpled and thrown there during her little fit. Some had been torn beyond recognition. He wondered idly what exactly, on a piece of paper, could have earned her wrath. Never one to let an impulse pass without acting on it, he floated over, put the bottle down, and straightened one of the papers.

His stomach lurched. God, it was him… Only it wasn't him. This guy was way too human, way too clean. His eyes didn't look like some demon was peering out of them. He still looked bedraggled, a little crazy, maybe even a bit dangerous… But there was something almost fond in the way he'd been depicted. Like the artist actually gave a damn about him. Lydia…

A quick examination proved the rest of the papers to bear similar sketches, all of him. More than one in his wedding tux. Draw from a dozen angles, with a number of different expressions, most of them grinning, she'd captured his image more times than he really wanted to think about. And from the pile of paper scraps strewn across the dresser, and down the floor, more times than he'd ever know.

Something in his gut felt distinctly unwell, even as he smiled at his distorted features, drawn to be a little more human than he knew he'd ever be. Damn Lyds… The girl had talent. And apparently an obsession with him. And that would be all fine and dandy,he remembered, his frown returning, if he hadn't gone and pissed her off enough to make her crumble her artwork, and rip it to shreds.

He glanced back at her, unmoved from her place beneath the thick black comforter. Ah hell… Beetlejuice, you idiot. He considered her for a moment longer, then turned back to the pictures. After a moment, he began straightening them, one by one, until they were in a neat little pile. He eyed the shredded pieces, and made a face. Remembering his bottle, he took a drink, and turned his thoughts over. He was sure he could find some tape somewhere.

Some hours later, he was back in his spot by her bed, still watching her, fascinated by every twitch, every curl of her fingers. She was dreaming. He played with the idea of visiting her dreams, but after a brief consideration, decided that he preferred the idea that maybe she was dreaming of him on her own.

Suddenly, just for a moment, she stirred, and opened her eyes. He stiffened as they landed on him, but though several curious thoughts seemed to pass her gaze, she didn't seem angry, even when a moment later, she seemed to decide he was real. "Beej?" She croaked softly, still sounding tired. "What are you doing here?"

His mind rolled for an excuse. "Just can't keep away from you, babes." He offered at last, with a pale imitation of his usual confident grin. When she smiled though, it quickly became very real. "Oh," He scoffed, taking a step closer anyway, "Don't act like you're happy to see me, or anything!"

"Beetlejuice," She whispered, closing her eyes again sleepily, "I don't know who's crazier here… You or me." Then she stretched a little, yawned, and opened one eye to consider him again. "You look like hell." She informed him matter-of-factly.

There was nothing to be done at this, but grin. "Hell hath no fury, babes…" He reminded her softly. He knew things were going to be okay when she made a face, trying not to laugh.

"Beetlejuice," She suddenly whispered aloud, then said it again, looking at him evenly as she sat up a little, "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

Said Beetlejuice frowned, feeling a small stab of betrayal. Why would she try to send him away? He'd just thought they were back to pretty good. "That's not going to work any more, babes." He pointed out softly, unable to keep from sounding a little annoyed. "You let me out."

Lydia yawned, looking unimpressed. "I know," She murmured, turning to snuggle back into her pillow, "I just had to make sure. That way I don't have to feel bad about not sending you away, when you act like a psychopathic asshole." Despite her words, she was smiling.

He considered this. "So, you don't want to send me away?" He asked now, his face breaking into a slow grin. "I knew I was just that damn sexy… Hey, Lyds?" This time there was no answer. He floated closer, and poked her shoulder with one finger. "I know you're not sleeping yet." When there was still no response, he lifted his eyebrows, and smirked, "Well, couldn't hurt to steal a little kiss then… What you don't know won't hurt you, and all that."

She opened one eye, and gave him a long, measured look. He chuckled, and moved back to his place against the wall. Even the devil knew when not to press his luck… He swore though, that her eye softened before she closed it again.

Ah well. At least he hadn't told him to leave. Good thing too, because as he realized now, watching her fall back to sleep, there was no way in hell he was going anywhere. Ever.

--