Chapter 2

A/N: Amazingly somehow procured, I give you Chapter 2! P.S. There's a lovely quote from an awesome eighties song that is incorporated in this here script, a hundred points and a cookie if you can tell me what song it's from and who sung it :P Happy reading!

For perhaps one of the first times in Beetlejuice's life, the ghoul hesitated.

In any normal situation, at any normal time, or whatever time was considered normal in his case, he would've immediately picked the book up and thumbed through its pages, ignoring any protests his best friend might have at his rude intrusion of her things.

But his best friend, if he had any right to call her that anymore, was for once no where in sight, leaving him wholly alone.

The book appeared to mock him, too, its obviously childish cover snickering at his utter lack of complacency, his actual resistance to his always insatiable curiosity. Scoffing at him and the fact that he hadn't even reached for it yet, let alone cracked its worn spine; a trait almost just as abnormal in his character as he was.

Because it was indeed strange, that he of all creatures would respect the privacy of anything, Lydia, special though she was, often more than not included.

But that was just the problem wasn't it? She was gone and he while should feel the safest in snooping around because of her absence, he didn't. Because soon, she wouldn't be around much at all.

And it was those kinds of thoughts that plagued him everywhere he went; gave him nightmares -and not the good kind- at night. Even then the insistent whisperings of uncertainty within clawed at him, telling him, reminding him that her leaving was and had always been the inevitable. And it was with bitter acknowledgement that he'd finally started to resign himself to her growing up and graduating from Ms. Shannon's, and from then on his complete evasion of her had begun.

He hadn't wanted to; if anything he'd wanted to do the exact opposite. To take her in his arms and make her promise that she wouldn't leave him, to not cast him aside like some old toy from her teens. But he'd done no such thing, and in the end he wondered if he'd only made himself suffer more for it. Because being away from her had and was slowly driving him insane.

And then the questions would come, flooding, crowding his already weary conscious, or what was left of it anyway.

Why do you think so of her Beetlejuice? Is it perhaps because of your true feelings finally shining through? Is the thought of losing her the straw that has finally broken the proverbial camel's back?

He knew the answers too, knew the answers to each and every one. But to unearth what he managed to keep buried down for years, to put all of his cards on the table, with no ace up his sleeve to save him? It wasn't just the possibility of losing the hand that scared him, it was a helluva lot more complicated than that, and he knew it. Oh God how he knew it.

Because, either way it panned out, no matter how happy he could be with the one outcome, or how crushed he could be with the other, one thing would still remain. He could never be selfish when it came to her, and that alone would be what would make him turn her down, even if by some twist of fate she even appeared to reciprocate his feelings.

Which was why, despite the misery it inflicted, it was better if he was the one to sever their ties, completely, forever, no matter how much pain it caused him to do so.

He loved her too much not to.

She had a life to live after all, and he couldn't begrudge her that that had ended for him some six-hundred years prior. Besides, what had he to give her, besides devastatingly disastrous looks and his un-beating heart? What could he, a lowly, ill-reputed ghost with a rather peculiar display of parlor tricks have to offer her?

Nothing that was what. And she would see that someday he knew, when she met someone new, alive and forgot all about him, if she hadn't already. He was sure of it, even though he also knew the same would never be said for himself. No doubt he would simply return to the after-life he knew before he knew her, as incredibly forsaken as it sounded. Sure, his after-life had never been boring, but never had he had anything to compare it to either.

Time, Beetlejuice thought, all he needed was time. And luckily for him, time was one thing he had plenty of.

Suddenly reminded to check his watch, however, the ghoul sighed with relief in the fact that he still had a half an' hour or so to spare before Lydia arrived back home. He'd come only to see what remained of her room, her world, before leaving for good, perhaps even to find some little piece of solace, comfort in the one place in the mortal world he felt most at peace, at home. But then, it never had been the room that had made it home to begin with, only one person could make it do that. And she soon was to be leaving, gone, for good.

Green eyes cast downward; a haggard sigh escaping his lips, Beetlejuice then again looked to the rose colored book on the floor before him, its presence blinding obvious in a room painted, lighted so dark.

"What the hell," he mumbled, at last reaching to pick the book up from its resting place.

One last insight into his Lydia's mind wouldn't hurt, he thought to himself, knowing very well it could and probably would.

Pressing on anyway, the red tips of his fingers eased open the thin spine to the book's first page, his eyes for the first time noticing the actual title of the tome.

"The Velveteen Rabbit," he spoke out loud, letting the name sink in.

Turning the page, however, Beetlejuice, who had never been one much for reading to begin with, became entranced.

It was unique, this story, telling of a tale only a child would believe, but entirely plausible for any adult to perceive. It told, of course, of a velveteen rabbit, of nursery magic, of being "Real" and what it means.

When the tale was done, however, BJ started, suddenly realizing just how "Real" he too had become. And all because of her, his soul hummed.

Fluent cursive catching his eyes, however, on the back of the book after its last page, the ghost started to find, a message for a certain little girl from a woman much more aged.

Dearest Lydia, –it read- my lovely babe, may you always believe in "Real" and all it means. Love, Mommy

Beetlejuice choked, needles seeming to prick at his eyes as he struggled to cope. Her real mother of all people, to give her this book, if only she knew, if only she knew just how much her advice to Lydia had took.

Closing its spine, much more reverently than before, the pin-striped dead man shook, literally shook in the vastness of his pain.

How could he leave her now? How could he never see, be near that light that was she?

Placing the book on her bed, however, the ghost knew his final decisions were set. And turning to her mirror, Beetlejuice hadn't started to take but one step-

"BJ?"

He froze, his magic for once not turning him into a Beetle-sicle but instead, for once allowed for what normalcy he had.

But that was the least of his worries, he knew, because there was now a crying Lydia in his arms, and Beetlejuice found he was crying too.

A/N: Whew! Dontcha love emotional scenes? Obviously I do. :) Anywho, I know probably knocked BJ's character completely off kilter, but c'mon, wouldn't you be hurtin' if you were him? Either way, though, this is my story and if that means taking some liberties with emotional reactions so be it, make what you will of it. Anyway, reviews as always are welcomed, flames ignored and helpful criticism graciously accepted. Thank you and good night.