A/N: QueenofDoomydoom I always look forward to your reviews! Thank you so much for staying with me through this and supporting me with your kind words. This chapter just flew out of me, it was a lot of fun to write. Enjoy!

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"Why do you have a map o' Georgia on your wall?"

He popped into existence as soon as she left the house, walking alongside her casually with hands in his pockets. "It's a Walking Dead thing. You know you can't follow me to school, right?"

No further explanation was needed. Seven DVD box sets for the television series headed the collection of horror media that lived on her bookshelf. Betelgeuse's interest was piqued. It had to be good if she liked it enough to decorate her bedroom with such vague, referential material. "Never heard of it. Came out in the last ten or so years, right?" She nodded. "Yeah, it can take awhile for new shit to reach the Neitherworld."

That actually made sense, Lydia considered. A first for the strange realm. Older souls would have more control over the media denizens were exposed to than the younger ones. "It's really good. It's about a cop who wakes up from his coma in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. I don't know if you would like it, though. It's not very fast paced. They really take their time with building character arcs, telling the story." He seemed so impatient most of the time. She wasn't sure if he would be able to appreciate some of the more seemingly unimportant- yet crucial- scenes. "That reminds me," she fixed him with a cold sideways glare, "I missed the mid-season finale and it's your fault."

"My fault?!" His reply was incredulous, disbelieving. Of all the things she could potentially be pissed at him about, this is what got her going?

"Yes, your fault. You could have just been nice and saved Mr. and Mrs. Maitland without any ridiculous conditions. Then, I wouldn't have missed an hour-long special of my favorite show. But you didn't and I did. I hold you personally responsible."

He almost reminded her that if her dad wasn't such a greedy bastard, he wouldn't have needed to rescue the Maitlands from eternal damnation in the first place, but thought better of it. His instincts told him to defend himself from her absurd accusation, but his brain told him to pick his battles. Betelgeuse realized he was by himself, his puzzled expression trained on the back of her head as she walked on without him. Then, an idea came to him. He caught up quickly, dropping to his knees and grabbing her hands. "Lemme make it up to ya! Let's go on a date! Later, after you're done with your stupid school stuff."

To his dismay, Lydia scoffed, pulling her hands away and stepping around him. "Absolutely not."

He would not be deterred. "Why not? It'll be fun, I promise."

"Several reasons." She stopped walking now, turning to face him with arms crossed. They were dangerously close to civilization. "I'm serious, you can't follow me to school."

That sounded like a challenge if he ever heard one. "You gonna stop me, pipsqueak?"

The stern expression on her face broke, something akin to exhaustion creeping in, and her arms fell to her side. "Fine." With that, she began back toward her parents' house, giving up on her plans for the day. "You win."

Damn. Things were going south quickly. "Babe, stop," he caught her by her shoulder, stopping her. "So what gives? If I go you can't go? That's stupid."

"People already think I'm enough of a freak." She looked so tired, so done with life. It made him feel like the worst kind of shit for pushing the matter at all.

"Fuck them!" Her eyes widened a bit at the intensity of his condemnation of the populace of Winter River. "They're just jealous 'cause you're special and they're ordinary," he said the word like it was particularly filthy. "'Nobody can see me but you, anyway."

She was shaking her head and he already knew what she had to say before she started speaking. "I'm not-" One of his hands slapped over her mouth, cutting the no doubt self-depreciating comment short.

"You are." It killed him that he couldn't tell her in excruciating detail exactly how fucking special she was. "I've been around for 'bout six-hundred years, give or take a couple decades. Ya know how many seers I've met?" The hand on her mouth fell away, joining its twin on her other shoulder. "One."

"Seer?" Lydia was familiar with the term, but not in the context he was speaking. "Is that what I am? What does that even mean?"

No, his mind answered, You're a necromancer. If you knew what you were doin' you could probably stand half a chance against me. His pride kept him from telling the truth, among other things. "It means exactly what it sounds like. You see things normal people don't."

"Is that why you picked me? Because I can see you?"

"Fuck no." It boosted his ego to see the visible relief his answer gave her. "Ghost with the most, babe. I can choose who sees me."

"In that case, I guess it's not that big of a deal if you come... Promise you won't do anything... bad?"

She really shouldn't bite her lip and look at him like that while asking such dangerous questions. It was awfully tempting to drag her off to the nearby woods and show her just how bad he could be. A stealthy, strong arm slipped around her waist and pulled her flush against him, forcing a surprised squeak out of her in the process. "Can't make promises like that, baby."

It took her a fraction longer than usual to squirm away, but Betelgeuse was acutely aware of the minute change. "Stop that! You know what I mean!"

It was time to play dirty, a tactic he was very familiar with. "Tell ya what," he began, "lemme take ya out tonight n' I'll be on my best behavior. Ya won't even know I'm there."

Lydia very highly doubted that. "I don't know... I still have a lot left to do. I need to pack my stuff, and do the classwork I missed so the incomplete grades don't transfer over to the new school- which is a whole other mess I haven't even begun to sort out." A stressed hand ran through her wavy, air-dried hair. "I should probably leave a letter for my Dad. Didn't you say something about getting a house for us in Jamaica?" It was so weird, talking about their future as a married couple this casually.

Betelgeuse ran a hand over his face in exasperation. His little wife's anxiety was contagious. "You literally don't have to do any of those things. I can move your stuff, school is pointless, your father is a worthless piece o' shit that doesn't deserve another second of your consideration, and Jamaica is overrated. Now I'm thinkin' Peru. Or maybe India."

Lydia hated how much much she agreed with him. "I can't just stop going to school. I'll be truant. The cops will come looking for me and when they don't find me, they'll take my father and Delia instead."

"Still not seein' how that's your problem." The expression on her face told him that she clearly thought it was. "God damn stupid arbitrary human shit," he cursed angrily, thinking rapidly for a solution before one came to him. "What about home-schoolin'? You get to keep up with your education, the walkin' talkin' scum you call parents don't go to jail, and I don't have to deal with the fuckin' Board of Education. Everybody wins."

"That's..." To his surprise and delight, she actually smiled while looking him directly in the eyes, "actually a really good idea." It was like an enormous weight was off her shoulders. Why didn't she think of that? It was so obvious. The stupid ghost had her all turned around.

"Perfect." He drew her in close again, but instead of squirming away this time she only rested her hands against his chest to maintain some distance. "Then let's get the fuck out o' here. I wanna take my wife on a date."

Her ever-endearing blush was back. "I still have to pick up my missed assignments." This was dangerous. He was entirely too eager to get her alone. "And I need to- to-"

"Give me one legitimate reason why you shouldn't."

Her mind went blank. Lydia had never seen eyes so vibrant, so feral before. Why was this a bad idea again? The memory of a beautiful, bosomy blonde with arms wrapped around his neck, whispering in his ear shattered the illusion. She would not open herself up to that kind of pain. Eye contact was broken and she stepped back from his embrace. What was she thinking? The first time she met him he had just finished fucking his way through an entire whorehouse of thumbelinas.

"I just... Just give me one more night and I'll go wherever you want." One more night to pretend everything was normal, whatever that meant. It's not like she had much of a choice in the matter in the end, right?

Betelgeuse was at a loss. What changed? One moment she was putty in his arms and then she was gone, withdrawn inside herself again. She might as well have been encased in a slab of steel. "Fuck that. All my ideas are shit. Where do you wanna go?" There, maybe that would make her open back up.

It did something. Her limpid honey eyes dared to look into his again after a moment's consideration. "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

"I want to go to the Neitherworld."

Just his fucking luck. Half a dozen centuries gone down the drain. There were no Gods or Devils to construct elaborate plots that would inevitably end with some artistic form of poetic justice. Still, he just knew deep down in the slimy pit of his soul that someone out there was laughing at him. It was probably Juno. To spend the entirety of his afterlife trying to get out, out, OUT! Free from that putrid pisshole death trapped him in! Only to lose a heart he thought didn't exist to a little girl that just wanted in.

People said they wanted in all the time. The poltergeist knew better than to accept what she said at face value. She didn't want to die. She just didn't want to be so fucking lonely anymore. Who could blame her for wanting to off herself just to be closer to the only people that bothered to acknowledge her existence? In retrospect, he should have taken her desires more seriously.

The celebration drinks at Ginger's bar had been a mistake in so many ways. Lydia's love of her kingdom was discovered, nurtured. Seeds of doubt for his feelings for her were planted- all thanks to an incredibly foolish oversight. Betelgeuse saw where this was going. She would love it there, would never want to leave. And he would take her wherever she wanted to go.

He was her slave and she didn't even know it.

The parking lot was nearly empty upon their arrival at Miss Shannon's School for Girls. A handful of students meandered about while he waited outside, per Lydia's request, and chain-smoked. Because "he was distracting." That one made him grin. The uniform looked scrumptious on her and he was lamenting that she wasn't wearing it. Maybe then he would have been able to steal another lengthy kiss, some light petting if he was especially smooth. That would be one fantasy he could cross off his extensive list.

No matter. She also looked good the way she did now; walking toward him in the billowy black thing she was wearing, textbooks and papers in her arms. It was shorter than the uniform, flirting with skin above her knees. Still, it wasn't as appealing as the furious blush on her cheeks, pursed lips, and fire in her eyes. For a split-second, he actually feared that all this glorious rage was aimed at him. Luckily, that was not the case. "You were right. There was no point in doing this. I should have just taken the F's and moved on with my life."

His eyebrow twitched and he floated after her enraged form. "What happened?"

"I told Miss Shannon I was sick and that's why I missed yesterday and today, but that I was feeling better and wanted to finish my missed classwork. I'm a terrible liar and she saw right through me," Lydia's nose scrunched up, indignation pouting her lips against her will, "but that doesn't give her the right to be so- so rude!"

"C'mon babe, don't keep me hangin'," he drawled, cracking his knuckles. Betelgeuse was itching for some fun.

"She outright called me a," Lydia made exaggerated air quotations, "filthy liar before not so subtly insinuating that she thought the color and length of my dress and inappropriate placement of my jewelry," she waved her hand, her irremovable black diamond ring- the one he gave her, his favorite ring- glinting in the sun, "made me an attention-seeking slut."

He growled, gruesome acts of retribution filtering through his head. Before he could begin to work out how he would punish the instructor without his merciful little wife being none the wiser, a shrill voice called out. Lydia's furious flush paled to a ghostly white that rivaled his own.

"You shouldn't flatter yourself, Deetz." The voice belonged to a girl about his wife's age with platinum blonde hair, sun-bronzed skin, and two ice cold glaciers for eyes. She was sitting in the passenger seat of a car not too far from them, window rolled down. A boy at least three to four years older than her lazed with his hand on the wheel, a dopey amused smirk on his face. "The term slut would imply that there was someone out there who was, like, willing to sleep with you."

Full red lips split into a nasty grin. "I think a more accurate name would be freak."