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

AN: Z' Gran Finale! Whew.

Chapter 24: Halloween Night Part One

Friday. Lydia had begun to get heart palpitations at the mere thought of Fridays. And now it was here. Tonight was the night he was coming for her. The week had been unnaturally quiet, with not a hint of supernatural goings-on. In fact, the calm had been so pervasive that midweek Beth had admitted that she missed all the craziness that was the consequence of his presence.

"You okay, Lyddie? I mean, if I miss him, I know you do." But Lydia had just given her a wan smile.

"You might rethink that in a few days. He's coming for me Friday." Beth raised both her eyebrows, but subsided with a enigmatic smile.

Lydia crawled out from under the covers and realized immediately that she wasn't going to make it to class. Butterflies were drumming up a Jamaican beach party in her stomach, and her knees felt a little unsteady. The party tonight, at least in the beginning, was at the Olde Bryan Inn, and she had spent the week putting together a costume, and staying away from mirrors, just in case.

The day was spent putting together the final touches, seams and embroidery. She was pleased with it, but wished that she could put it on and see the whole effect without having to use a mirror. Ah, well. That would come soon enough. And though the minutes dragged by, she finally watched the last of the sunlight fade from the treeline. Beth had left her nervous roommate before dusk, promising to meet her at the inn after dark. It was time. She pulled on her costume, tucking and buttoning and tugging until it looked right, and then she threw a long cape over the whole ensemble. The mirror was waiting. She addressed it, feeling like her stomach was attempting to defy gravity. "Ready, B?"

The mirror fogged lazily. Say my name.

"Beetlejuice."

Lydia.

"Beetlejuice." Gods, her voice was shaking.

Are you ready for this?

She swallowed, hard. "Beetlejuice."

The whirlwind stormed around her, lifting her up gently in a swirling embrace. She leaned back into it, eyes closed, lips parted, trusting him with the faith of a child.

"Lydia." His mouth was against her cheek, his rumbling near-whisper like lightening through her body. Her arms flew around him in a hug that would have squeezed the life-breath out of him, had he any. He hugged her back, his lips pressed against her hair, taking her in. "Miss me?"

She smiled, and was surprised to feel tears in her eyes. He pulled back from her, his expression indescribably gentle, and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "Not at all." But her voice betrayed her. His smile was laced with tenderness and something that looked suspiciously like hunger, but he shook himself and set her down.

"Liar." His eyes were intense, and he dropped his gaze to her cloak-wrapped body. "You've been hiding from me all week, Lyds. Can I see, now?" And his hands found the edges of the cloak, a little more slowly that absolutely necessary, and tugged it gently open, and she didn't protest. His expression changed into one of stunned wonder, and his hands tightened on her shoulders. She watched him as he took in the sight of her, her knees feeling treacherous. From the graceful midriff-cut bolero to the low sash and layered petal skirt, she was showing more skin than she ever had in her life. She pulled away from him and spun around, the cloak falling in a puddle at her feet, and the skirts spinning above her knees.

"What do you think, B? Was it worth the wait?" He only stared at her belly, a small piercing dangling a gold coin against her pale skin.

"Um. I… um, you… amazing. Gods, Lyds…" He paused, swallowed, and tried again. "Um…" He looked at the ground. "C'mon, B, get a grip," he muttered to himself. She was flushed with his loss for words, and beamed at him. And then she noticed what he was wearing.

A long graceful coat in fine blue silk flowed from his shoulders, cut in the colonial style of the early 1700's and beautifully embroidered with fine gold thread. A long gold vest glimmered underneath it, and a pale linen shirt, open to his breast. His luminescent skin picked up a soft reflection of the silk, and rippled with a lovely play of light. Dark breeches, and dark brown leather boots that cuffed just below the knee finished the costume, but the subtle wear around the edges and the worn quality of the boots told her practiced eye that this was not a costume at all. She looked back up at his face to find him studying her with a delicious smile playing at the corners of his expressive mouth. Then the promise of his smile was fulfilled, and she was amazed at the beauty it brought to his lean features. "Told you I haunted Henry Morgan? More than once he found that his favorite coat had gone missin'." A mischievous light danced in his eyes. "Are you ready, my gypsy queen?" He offered her his arm, but she paused.

"Are we doing the wormhole thing?"

He flashed that feral smile at her, the one she had not been able to forget, and suddenly she didn't feel so safe with him. Desired, yes. Safe; not remotely. He offered her his arm. "Somethin' much better. Come outside." They walked out together, Lydia nervous with anticipation, and out on the curb outside the dorm, shining in its brilliant chrome glory and surrounded by a small crowd of stunned fratboys, was a magnificent motorcycle. It gleamed, and seemed to flex its seductive curves, and Lydia clutched at Beetlejuice's arm.

"Oh gods, B. It's beautiful." He just grinned and swept through the crowd, perfectly visible to everyone and completely unconcerned. The crowd fell back a little now that the owner had presented himself, and then back even farther at the sight of Lydia. Whispers reached her, tantalizing threads of conversation mixed with a kind of awed silence. Beetlejuice swung a graceful leg over the machine and righted it, and Lydia slid on behind him, tucking her skirts under her thighs. The beast underneath them roared to life, and Lydia's arms slipped securely around her companion's slender hips. She pressed into his back, and felt something secure slip around her, cradling her against him. He was taking no chances with her. Thunder beneath her, lightening in her arms, and the night had only just begun.