Disclaimer: Beetlejuice and Co belong to Geffen. Alas that he did not choose to make further use of them.

Chapter 9: The Challenge

Beth stumbled into the room, looking disheveled and tired, and cast around immediately for her preoccupied roommate, who realized, for the third time that night, that the bed was still in the middle of the room. Beth fell on the bed and grabbed Lydia by the knees.

"I am so sorry! I had no idea what an arsehole Billy was until you… you… what did you do, Lyddie? He pissed his pants, for God's sake!" She giggled, and then rolled on her back. "And then all the girls were talking about what a player he was, and how they were glad that someone had finally put the fear of God into him—it was fabulous! You should have stuck around. You're a bit of a hero, actually." She grinned, her mild British lilt more pronounced with the amount of alcohol she had consumed. Lydia grinned back blearily.

"Well, it wasn't anything more than he deserved. He had me barricaded in the bathroom for a while there." And then her knight in shining armor came and saved her… she shook her head. "I hope he won't be terrorizing the sororities for a while, now."

"What did you do, Lyddie? It must have been really scary, because everyone who saw his face got a little bit of a chill, they all said. He looked really terrified." Lydia got a chill, then, too. What had Beetlejuice done, anyway? She hadn't thought to ask, having been so relieved to be safe. She hoped fervently that there was no permanent damage. But she shrugged it off for the benefit of her friend.

"I pulled a Bloody Mary on him. He must have murdered someone, because he took off like a bat out of hell." She forced a grin, and Beth smiled back, oblivious. She picked herself up off the bed, and then frowned.

"Redecorating? I have to say it's a bit in the way…"

At that, Lydia laughed. "No, I'll put it back. I had to… um, change the lightbulb. And then I just fell asleep." The lies were coming easier all the time. Beth threw herself onto her own bed and sighed. A few moments told Lydia that her friend was out for the count, and she climbed off her bed and tried to shove it back into the corner. But he had lifted it over her desk, and she couldn't lift it back. "Oh hell, B."

"Need some help, Lyddie?" Lydia's heart jumped in her breast and she spun around to find Beetlejuice sitting in the same chair he had occupied on and off all night. She put her hand to her throat.

"I thought Juno put you back!"

"Can we get somethin' straight here? I. am. not. a. toy." His voice was a little more menacing than it needed to be, but she remembered the gentle way he had brushed out her hair, and refused to be afraid of him. Instead, she raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned a half grin without showing teeth. "You have to 'put me back' if you 'take me out' in the first place, babe. Juno knows that. She might have tossed me a few miles, but I'm quick." To exemplify, he flicked his hand and the bed and it dutifully floated up and over the desk and settled in its rightful place. Then he made a great show of cracking his knuckles. "So, what did you gals talk about?"

"You. You should be flattered." She gave him her own toothy grin. "She came to warn me about you, and told me the rest of your story. And that marriage won't get you out after all." With each successive statement, his expression got bleaker and bleaker, until she finally took pity on him, and walked over to his chair. "B…" He flicked his eyes up at her, and there was something dark and deep just beneath the surface of him that gave her a bit of a shiver. She had to steadily remind herself that he was a poltergeist, not a man. Not anymore. Then he stood, and he was so close that she could feel the energy crackling off of him, making the hairs on her arms stand straight up. She swallowed. "Juno said that your gauss was off the scale." Where the hell did that come from?

"Tryin' to distract me, Lyds?" He lifted her chin with a cool fingertip, a memory of what she had done with him. "I don't distract easy."

"Yes, you do." Her voice came out a squeak, and she squeezed her eyes shut in chagrin. When she opened them again, he was smiling that feral smile again.

"Say my name." His eyes glittered in the half-light, and his voice rumbled through her. Gods, he was too close. And dead. Not alive. She could clearly see the outline of his cheekbones, the translucent skin stretched taut and gaunt. Deep shadows under his eyes. No heat from his body.

"Beetlejuice," she whispered. His fingertip trailed down her jaw, and she could not believe she was standing here, allowing him to touch her like that, not screaming and running out, and his gauss was off the scale…

"Say my name, Lydia." Were his eyes green? They looked dark now. Was this what panic really felt like? She couldn't move, but then she realized that she could, and she just didn't want to. Deep breath.

She tilted her head slightly and circled him, and he mirrored her. "What are you playing at, Beetlejuice?" His smile only grew, and his eyes were darker now, she could see. He remained an inch or two away, his hand grazing past the curve of her jawbone now.

"Say my name."

"Why?" She was bending with him now, irresistibly being pulled into him, and she couldn't stop herself, and he was going to kiss her, and she, God help her, she wanted him to.

"Because I'll be waiting for you to call me out again."

"I thought you weren't a toy," she whispered, lips brushing against his mouth. Cool, just like the rest of him. He pulled back slightly, his curving smile more ironic than she had ever seen.

"It seems I'm at your service, whatever I might want for myself."

"Beetlejuice, I…" But a sharp wind snapped her in the face, collapsing into the empty space where he had been. She closed her eyes in frustration, and covered her eyes with her hand.

"say my name…" Just a whiskey whisper in her ear. She felt a near-overwhelming urge to call him back right then and there, but she grimaced at the look of triumph she knew he would bear. No, she needed time. Time, and a cold shower. Very cold.