"You're no good, you're no good,
You could kill me and you should,
I'm an idiot for thinking,
This was anything but blood."

— This is Love
Air Traffic Controler

After their heart-stopping rendezvous, Lydia stayed home from work all the days leading up to the twins' birthday party. Betelgeuse insisted and she wasn't up to the task of fighting him on it. Ginger could run the shop just fine without her for a week or so, though regular clients did miss her presence.

The striped fiend still spent a respectable nine to five bio-exorcizing. Lydia got satisfaction out of having dinner on the table for him and the girls by the time he got off. He always seemed so proud of her for what she did as a wife and mother, and it showed in his generously bestowed affection and praise.

It was the morning of the girl's birthday party and things weren't quite in full swing yet. Lydia was taking it easy, reassured that Betelgeuse was going to take care of all the decorations, gift wrapping, and any other heavy lifting that needed doing. All she had to do was entertain the girls and make sure they were happy and content.

Both sisters were dressed and ready for the day in precious matching tutus, tights, and long-sleeved shirts to keep them warm. Lydia had not yet begun to prepare herself, still floating about in a silk nighty and robe duo. For breakfast, she made them all cake batter pancakes with blueberries and sliced strawberries, going the extra mile to make tiny baby-sized hot cakes for her girls.

Currently, she was making silly faces over their highchairs while circling forkfuls of food in front of their hungry, fanged mouths. Her own plate was untouched, butter and syrup melting into the cakes as she inadvertently shook her butt in her happy husband's face.

"Here comes the choo-choo, Ivy-Bug! Chugga-chugga-choo-choo!"

Betelgeuse didn't know if he'd been happier at any point in his existence. He took time the night before the party to put up decorations by hand, at one point doing so with Holly on his hip when she woke up with teething pains. Come morning everything was ready and he had the chance to relax and wonder at that only a year ago his wife was lying dead in a pool of water, and he was hearing his daughters cry for the first time.

How the times changed.

Holly was gnawing at her fork, her tiny teeth sharp enough to snap the plastic, so he took it from her, kissing her forehead and handing her a pancake as is.

His hand slid down Lydia's back to her pert ass, slapping it gently. "Mmm. Lovin' the wake up call this morning, baby. Happy birthday to the twins and happy Momma day to you. These little rugrats are really somethin. Ya did a great job on em... I know I tell ya that all the time but look at em!"

"I did, didn't I?" Lydia agreed airily, taking a moment to plop back into his lap, dig into her plate, and admire their girls.

They already had a mountain of gifts piled up along the formal dining table, wrapped and shining in a plethora of non-Christmas colors. It was inevitable that people were going to show up with half Christmas half Birthday gifts, so they were doing their best to keep the event separate for their growing tots. They hadn't even put the Christmas tree or any lawn lights up yet, saving those kinds of decoration for after the twins' big bash.

Holly and Ivy individually seemed ambivalent that anything was different from this day than any other, aside from their fun skirts and confetti breakfast. While Mommy and Daddy played their mushy adult games over coffee, they gabbed on in secret baby language about secret baby things and snuck hot cakes to the dogs under the table.

"The decorations look great, Daddy," Lydia praised, giving him a syrupy kiss. "Thanks for taking care of everything…"

He happily took her into his lap as she sat, not even bothering to check if he was ready to receive her. He always was. He nuzzled into her as she thanked him for the decorations, making him snort.

"O' course. But I really did it for the ant farm over there. They can't exactly put their own part together yet."

He ran his hands over her thighs, sighing happily. A whole year without any major issues, save for New Years.

"Are ya excited, kitten? Our babies are a year old... hard for this dad to believe, I gotta tell ya."

There was a squirming sort of apprehension in her gut that had been there since waking at the crack of dawn, but other than that Lydia was carefree and easy-going. She chucked it up to nerves at the prospect of being around so many people at once, never one to be terribly social even in the best of circumstances— and this was definitely the best of circumstances.

"I'm excited," she confirmed obediently, practically bouncing in his lap with jitters. She was on her third cup of coffee and had barely picked at her own pancakes. Something big was going to happen today, she just knew it. Could feel it.

"They got so big so fast…"

They weren't unusually large for their age. If anything, they were small, but compared to how tiny they used to be, it was an astronomical difference.

"Pretty soon they'll be walking and talking and— oh, Beej, I don't want them to grow up! They're perfect just the way they are."

"They'll be perfect older, too. It's a necessity, my love." He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck gently.

Only a few hours later, guests started to arrive. As usual, Jacques and Ginger were the first to show, adding to the pile of presents before cooing over the birthday girls like the good Auntie and Uncle they were.

Betelgeuse wore his green suit and settled onto the couch with a baby on each knee. There was something coming, and he would just as soon have his family in his arms when it came. Of course, Lydia was too sporadic to pin to his side for long, a whirlwind of black hair as she checked on the food and the gifts and the guests over and over again. He didn't know what was wrong, but there was certainly something.

Before too long, but long enough to be considered fashionably late, Delia arrived last along with her beau, both decked in stylish, chic dark clothing entirely inappropriate for a children's birthday party. Lydia didn't mind. It used to be her showing up all in black to Delia's very important dinner parties, and the redhead never said one word about it.

A coil in neck she didn't know had tightened,relaxed somewhat as she and her stepmother shared a warm, yet awkward hug in greeting. At least, it felt awkward to Lydia. Delia seemed perfectly at ease and composed, some of her neurosis from life calmed now in death.

"I didn't think you would show." Delia never seemed too big on the whole mothering and tolerating small children thing, but perhaps that was just a misconception Lydia projected onto her.

"And miss my granddaughters' first birthday?! Never! I already missed their birth! Oh, Lydia, it's just wonderful to see you in something other than black."

Just like that, Lydia remembered why she hated Delia. Without saying much of anything at all, her ex-stepmother instantly plucked a nerve. Her brow twitched, and for a moment Lydia felt a rebellious urge to go upstairs and change into a mourning gown just to spite the bitch for old time's sake. Instead, she forced an overly toothy smile, said thank you, and politely showed them where to hang their coats, pile presents, and where all the food was.

Barbara could take over from there.

Barbara did a wonderful job of distracting Delia to allow Betelgeuse the opportunity of pulling Lydia into his side and kissed her cheek firmly.

"Don't let her get to ya, babes. Ya look amazin'."

Nearly an hour later there was a knock at the door. It sent a shiver up his spine, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Delia stood and clapped her hands.

"Oh! That should be my surprise. I'll go get him."

"HIM?"

She invited someone else? Betel handed the twins to his wife and followed the redhead to the door. It pulled open to reveal the man Betelgeuse had hoped to never see again. He put on a surprised smile, acting as though he hadn't seen him just the year before.

"Chuck! Ya ol' dog, come on in! What the fuck are you doin' here?"

"Isn't it obvious, Geuse?" Charles continued in perfectly polite demeanor at full volume, uncaring who heard what he had to say. "I'm here to see my daughter."

There was an unmistakable bloodthirsty gleam to the dead man's gaze beneath his genial façade. The shark was back.

Charles had cleaned up nicely in the year since he was thrown out on his ass into the cold, cruel unknown. The suit he wore was dapper and fitted, what little facial hair he sported kempt and flattering. Whatever happened to him since he was tossed out of the Geuse manor had done him well. He very closely resembled himself at the peak of his life— better even. More mature. Powerful.

Lydia hadn't sighted him yet, too busy fussing over the girls in the next room over, cooing and fawning with guests over something terribly cute they'd just done. Just then, Adam waltzed in from the kitchen with a beer, on his way to shoot the shit with his unlikely son-in-law only to freeze up at the sight of the rival father figure standing in the foyer. Both he and Barbara were in on the events of the past New Years; how Betelgeuse forced Charles into rehab only to kick him out once he crossed the line.

Both he and Barbara agreed that there was nothing good to be gained from saying anything to the oblivious Lydia and thus kept their mouths shut. Chuck could find her if he wanted. Sure enough, here he was. Wanting.

"Adam!" Charles greeted amicably, voice carrying, and crossed the room to greet him like an old friend, in doing so leaving his threatening Host behind in the dust. "How've you been? I've been meaning to look you and Barb up, but you know how it is, work and such…"

A short, seething growl left him as his father-in-law pushed past him into the house. Delia had to be an idiot. Why would she have invited him here? He was under the impression that things ended badly. He gave Adam a hard look packed full of meaning and darted back into the living room.

"Gimme the girls." He could see the confusion on his wife's face, but took his daughters into his arms, unwilling to let Charles anywhere near them.

"Your dad is here. In the hall, talking to Adam." He heard Barbara inhale sharply. She stood and went to her husband's side, hoping to provide a buffer between the family and the man who'd tried to steal their children.

Holly screamed the moment she saw him, reminded of her father's nasty emotions that night, which in turn set off Ivy, and Betelgeuse was caught trying to comfort them in hushed tones so that Lydia couldn't hear.

"It's okay... Daddy's gotcha. He ain't gonna get his hands on you, Buggy..."

"… what?"

It took an extended period of time for Lydia to make sense of what her husband just said. Holly and Ivy started screaming and any other day she would have stayed with her husband and tried her best to calm them, but… he had a whole room full of people eager to hold the babies. Her father was here.

"Just— just— hold on, I'll be right back!"

Luckily for Betelgeuse, his wife didn't happen to catch the damning things he was muttering to their girls. Heart pounding, she turned the corner, that same beating organ dropping into her gut once she saw him.

"… Dad?"

Adam and Barbara were partially obscuring him, but they moved aside at the sound of her voice, confirming that it really was him. He was here. A swell of intense emotions hit her all at once; joy, fear, grief, guilt, and everything in between.

"Pumpkin, I—"

Some of Charles' confidence faded. As always, he was having a difficult time reading his daughter. He stepped forward as if to hug her. She tensed. He froze.

"Where were you?!" Lydia couldn't control the shrill quality of her voice, though she regretted how loud and venomously that came out. It was enough to still the party.

"I…" Her father choked, scrambling to come up with a good enough excuse. A half-truth that wouldn't hurt her. He'd done enough of that during his life. "When I died… it was ugly, baby. I didn't want you to see me like that. I had to get better. I knew you were out there, but I just… I couldn't…"

This was good enough for Lydia. The tension in her muscles dissolved, and in an instant she was across the room, hugging her father tight while tears pulled down her face.

"I'm so sorry," she wept, blubbering. In the background, Barbara was doing her best to shoo away onlookers and keep the moment private. "I should have just talked to you! I shouldn't have run away like that! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Ssshhh," Charles hushed, blinking back tears of his own as he held his daughter close. "None of that. You didn't do anything wrong. I owed you better than I gave you… come on, don't cry, pumpkin…"

Betelgeuse hovered at the doorway, waiting to see if Charles would rat him out. He was ready and willing to defend his family. He'd done it before, and he knew he'd do it again. The girls finally settled, but he wouldn't put them down or hand them off. He needed to have them close.

The party continued, Lydia staying close to her father as they caught up and Charles mingling with their friends. Having him there had every last nerve in Betelgeuse's body on edge. He didn't like this.

Eventually it came time for presents, and then cake, and Betel had to give the twins up as to not pull attention to himself and his obvious displeasure. He chuckled weakly as Holly face planted directly into her little cake, Ivy picking at it with two fingers at a time. Holly sat up laughing, cake all over her face.

"Holly! Come on, kid... yer gonna need a bath sooner rather than later." But that meant leaving Lydia alone with Charles. "Come on, buggy. Let's clean ya up in the kitchen sink."

It was not beyond Lydia's notice that her father and Betelgeuse refused to so much as come within ten feet of one another. However, they weren't willing to leave the other alone for too long either. Wherever one was, the other would shortly follow… at a distance. She chalked it up to wonky testosterone male bullshit and made the most of her time with her father, knowing it wouldn't last.

Father was doing virtually the exact same type of work he'd been doing in the living world but without any shot nerves to worry about this go around, he was even better. From his own mouth, he claimed to already have a corner office and a company car and he hadn't even been with them more than six months.

"That's amazing, Dad," Lydia praised her father with a bright grin, genuinely proud of him. From the looks of things, he was doing quite well for himself with not a lot to work off of. "How's your boss? Better than Mr. Brewster I hope."

Claire never let Lydia live it down that one of their father's pulled professional rank over the other, not that Lydia cared about such petty things.

"Oh, he's a jackass," her father joked crassly, and Lydia preened at how he was letting loose with her. This was the easiest conversation she could ever recall them having. "Not nearly as bad as Brewster. Though, Bart never was the same after Claire had her accident…"

Lydia's blood cooled, smile disappearing.

"… accident?"

Betelgeuse took the twins into the kitchen, grateful not for the first time that he installed a farmhouse sink. The double basins were just the right size to put a baby in each. He knew he should be keeping an eye on Charles, but moments like these with his girls wouldn't last. He carefully wiped every trace of frosting off of his daughters and put them in new clothes, these ones gifts from Delia as an act of goodwill.

By the time the guests of honor rejoined their party, they were yawning in his arms. And Lydia... Lydia looked livid. She shot him a look with the kind of fire behind it that he hadn't seen in a long while. She was angry. What happened? Did Charles tell her about New Years? Either way he was in deep shit.

As the guests cleared out, he took his time cleaning up. He let Lydia put the twins to bed on her own, trying to avoid the inevitable argument as long as he could.

Lydia was so furious she didn't even want to look at him. For the rest of the party, she avoided his touch and gaze, perfectly happy to catch up with her father and the other guests. For the sake of the girls, she held her tongue, unwilling to get into it with their father on their birthday party in front of all their friends and family.

It could wait.

Eventually, bedtime found them. Lydia put the girls to bed on her own and waited up for him while he finished cleaning, arms crossed stiffly over her chest, burning a hole through the wall with her molten gaze. Finally, after taking as long as he possibly could putting away everything by hand, he made an appearance at their bedroom door.

Wide awake, just as pissed as before, her gaze narrowed on him once he appeared.

"You lied to me."

When he came upstairs he winced, finding her wide awake and as angry as ever. He closed the door behind him, checking to make sure the soundproofing was stable before this really got going.

You lied to me.

He frowned. "Lied to you, baby? About what? You know I don't do that anymore. Open and honest communication. You told me that, right?"

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and shed his tie, not moving any closer to the bed. If she knew the truth, she would surely want him out of the house. He was ready to take the girls and go, if necessary, but he somehow doubted Lydia would want to be alone, no matter how angry she was.

"What did yer dad say? He's the one who said somethin' ain't he?"

Her husband's choice wording only ignited that silent, simmering fury.

"What would he have to say to me, Beej?"

He made it sound like there was even more he wasn't telling her about. After all, her father had stumbled upon this lie. Had even expressed surprise that she didn't know, thought the whole thing might have been her idea. It stung that he thought her capable of such atrocities, but knowing what her husband could do and had done? She couldn't blame him.

"It's not like you were ever straight forward with me about what you two talked about." She knew it was about Greg back then, but she also knew her father and husband had a vitriolic relationship. There was no telling what he may or may not have said to her poor father.

"But fine, since you apparently lie to me so often you don't have any idea what I'm talking about, I'll spell it out for you: Claire Brewster."

When she didn't even spot any recognition in his expression at the name, she seethed, slapping the comforter aside to get up out of bed, cross the room like a force of nature, and stare him down, all four foot nine of her.

"Claire Brewster! The little girl that YOU told me was just fine! 'A couple of nightmares', right? No big deal, huh?!"

Tampering the urge to just push him— violence was never the answer— she instead fisted her nightgown and continued meeting him toe to toe, too enraged to be intimidated by his super height, weight, and supernatural prowess.

"You fractured her skull! Permanent brain damage! She's living off of a feeding tube in some God Awful facility in that hick town and— and it's your fault! And you lied to me!"

That was just day two of their marriage. What else might he have lied about?

He had no idea what she was talking about, but at least it wasn't New Years.

"I don't lie to ya, but he's the only new variable, Lyds! He had to have said somethin. He's tryin' to turn you against me!"

When she went into detail, things slowly came back to him. Her ankle. Their wedding night. Storming Miss Shannon's and taking care of the bullies that had hurt his wife... now he knew. The blonde bimbo that ran her off the road.

"Well, how was I supposed to know? We haven't been back to check in on yer high school classmates, Lyds! Far as I knew she was fine." He crossed his arms, his own eyes narrowed at her. "Why do you even care? She was bitch. Probably still is."

"Don't you dare say a WORD against my father!"

She gaped, immediately on the defensive. He had done so much and come too far for Betelgeuse to pull this kind of shit and get away with it.

"I'll have you know that he didn't say anything about you! Not one word! But thank you, I think it's really interesting that you're so convinced he did. Jesus Christ... what did you do to him, Beej? Wait—"

She held up a hand, head shaking, looking sick to her stomach.

"Never mind. I don't actually want to know."

Why do you even care? She was a bitch, and probably still is.

"Delia's a bitch!" Lydia exploded, incensed by his callous logic. "That doesn't mean I would want her to live like that! Claire didn't deserve that! Nobody deserves that! You did… a horrible thing. And you did it because you thought I wanted it. And you lied to me."

There was a lot Lydia could forgive. It wasn't as though she was about to leave him and uproot their family over Claire fucking Brewster. She could forgive this as well. But, in the heat of the moment and with the cold way Betelgeuse was brushing her off, she found her mercy waning.

He growled, pulling at his hair as he tried to decide his next move. This wasn't a mild upset, she was actually angry with him. He didn't know if they'd been here before. Uncharted ground always made him on edge.

"Baby, I was tryin' to keep you safe! What if you decided you wanted to go back? Huh? Who knows what that bimbo woulda been sayin' about you. I wasn't gonna let you get hurt!"

He stalked across the bedroom toward her and dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his and squeezing.

"I know you didn't want that, babes. You wouldn't hurt a fly if it bit ya, but that's why ya got me. To protect you n' our family. That's my whole job." His voice wavered. Memories of the night their daughters had been snatched from their bed swam in front of him.

"If I can't do that, I'm a failure as a husband n' as a father. N' I'm no better than Sandworm chow, don't ya think?"

His thought process didn't make any sense to her at all, and she knew most of it was bullshit. This wasn't about keeping her safe. It was about fulfilling his monstrous side's bloodlust. He went from claiming not to know about Claire's fate to chalking the misdeed up to "protection", anything he thought might illusion her further and get him in the clear.

It wasn't working.

"I don't need that kind of protection."

The words came out sharp and cold, her husband still kneeling before her, encapsulating her hands.

"Claire was my age. She was a spoiled rotten little brat that always got everything she wanted and treated everyone in her way like dirt. But, she was a kid. She could have grown into someone better. Don't you think you're a better person now than you were twenty years ago? You didn't have any right, Betelgeuse."

Lydia remained calm and collected while she gave her dour speech, aside from sadness on Claire's behalf that seeped in between the lines. It wouldn't do to stay angry with him. He wouldn't understand.

"You took that from her. You took away her whole damn life. She's still there, hooked up to tubes and machines, getting all sorts of medication shoveled down her throat because her family won't let her go. It's awful."

Sympathetic tears misted her gaze.

"Do you want to make this right? Or do you really think you were justified?"

His answer here would make all the difference.

He frowned as she started to tear up. He growled to himself and shook his head, leaning in to rest his cheek on her thigh. He was cautious of saying too much. He could really fuck things up here...

He looked up at her as she asked him if he wanted to make things right. He was silent for a long moment before pressing a kiss to her knee.

"Ya know... I wanna make it right. I see how much it hurts ya. And I know why it was wrong of me." He sighed softly. "I really didn't know her damage was that bad. I thought she'd be fine. How do I fix it? I mean... I'm not a miracle worker. Just... I'm just a man."

Despite how horribly the Brewster girl treated her, it didn't give Lydia any sadistic pleasure to give the order.

"I need you to kill her, Beej."

The heaviness of what she was requesting dragged her timbre down. Wracked with guilt and grief, she couldn't yet be her normal, affectionate self with him. Her hands remained still and gentle on his shoulders rather than petting through his hair.

"If you weren't… you… If you didn't already have blood on your hands… I would never ask… but…"

Looking down, a cascade of raven hair sweeping across her breast to kiss his cheek, she resembled an angel of mercy wrought with divine light by the hearth's glowing embers.

"I must. Will you do it?"

As he gazed up at her, his face hardened. His poor, sweet, angelic wife. She was right. There was no other way. Claire had to be put out of her misery, and he was the one who had to do it. He leaned up to kiss her gently, his hands coming up to frame her face.

"I'll do it. I'll leave tonight... after you fall asleep. I'll make it fast n' painless. I promise. She doesn't need more pain."

He was once again struck with just how good his wife was. A voice in the back of his mind insisted that she was too good for him. That she should be back in the mortal world, curing cancer or finding a solution for world hunger. But the selfish part of him needed her here with him forever.

Kissing her one last time, he shook his head. "I'll take care of it. See if I can call in a favor to get her fixed. It'll be hard, but. Juno's playin grandma, so maybe she'll do it."

"Thank you."

His kisses and affection were accepted hesitantly, but not quite returned. What happened to Claire she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. Simple neglect explained away his ignorance on the matter, so she could forgive that this was perhaps not a lie. Betelgeuse wasn't all that well-versed in keeping people alive, other than his wife and daughters.

However, something definitely happened between he and her father. The way they pointedly ignored each other, how the girls cried immediately upon seeing him, and her father's refusal to indulge any talk about her husband whatsoever added up to an ugly picture.

"Why does my Dad hate you?"

It was no secret he had a hundred thousand reasons, but there was something deeper there. Almost like Charles thought if he spent too long in the poltergeist's presence, he would start breaking things.

"He didn't need to say anything. The way you two were behaving it was obvious, the whole party could tell. I didn't get a chance to let him hold the girls all night. You know you were keeping them away from me too, right?"

"I didn't mean to, baby I just... don't trust him. I can't tell ya why, it's just. A vibe. Bad energy or something. I mean he took so long to contact you... I'm sure the girls were picking up on that."

He stood and stretched, wishing she would rub his back but knowing better than to ask.

"Come on, kitten. I'm tired of fighting... can't we go to bed? You go to sleep, n' I'll go take care of Claire n' then tomorrow we can have a family day. Maybe go back to the zoo!"

He was desperate to keep the truth hidden and his family together. If Lydia knew the truth, she would surely pack up and leave him, taking the twins with her. He couldn't begrudge her that. They were his, but they were hers. She'd literally died in the process of their birth. He huffed softly and shook his head.

"Or you can go to bed n' I'll go now. Dunno when I'll be back. Time moves different up there, remember? N' I'll have'ta help her through the waitin' room."

Confused and tired, Lydia turned her back on him, ready to follow his suggestion at least on returning to bed.

"I think you should go."

Even though he was going to go and make it right, she still hurt. He kept the girls away from their mother and grandfather for nearly all of the party. The news about Claire was a punch in the gut on top of that. She pulled the sheet up over herself, meeting him with a sad gaze once she was nestled.

"I can't bear thinking about her lying there trapped with nowhere to go. Not while I'm here… with you and our girls. How long do you think you'll be gone? I won't take them anywhere without you. I promise."

Though Ivy and Holly's magic was reliable, Lydia was not so cocky as to rely on it.

"It won't be as long as when you were looking for my Mom, will it?"

The prospect of taking care of Ivy and Holly for that long without her husband's assistance was terrifying, but she couldn't be selfish here. Claire deserved freedom from that living Hell.

"Dunno, kitten. But you know yer ring'll call me if you're in danger." He leaned down to kiss her once more. "Kiss the babies for me in the mornin'. Have your dad over if you need to. Or Barbara and Adam. I don't like thinkin' o' you alone."

He stood and put his suit back on, giving her a sorrowful look before vanishing.

I think you should go.

She was truly angry.

How long will you be gone?

She wanted him out of the house.

His heart ached in his chest in a way that it hadn't since before the twins' birth. He staggered as he appeared in the room where Claire Brewster was sleeping peacefully. He stared at her for a long moment before reaching into her chest and stilling her heart. The monitors went crazy and Claire's soul sat up out of her body, terrified. Betelgeuse hurried to take her hand, forcing a smile.

"It's okay… it's over. I'm here to guide you to the other side."