Soundtrack: Written to 'Violator.' Yeah, I know, that one crops up a lot. What can I say? Dangerous is BJ's theme song.

Chapter Two: Complicated

After a moment's perusal which made Lydia long to break the circle just so she could take a hot shower to clean off the traces of his lingering gaze, Beetlejuice settled comfortably down in the circle that bound him, legs crossed and long-fingered hands draped carelessly over his ankles. If had worn glasses, she thought, he would have taken a long moment to polish them. So his voice, gruff and sensual, startled her slightly. She needed to pay better attention, dammit.

"So what are you playin' at, girlchild?"

"I'm not a child." Gods, maybe she could stamp her foot and throw a fit to be more convincing? He smirked.

"Coulda fooled me. Stupid enough to bind the world's most powerful poltergeist to your own pathetic strength of will… overblown sense of invulnerability, Lyds? Or a death wish?" He chewed at a ragged fingernail. She wondered randomly if his fingernails still grew. But then, he wasn't a dead body, exactly. He looked dead… except that his body didn't show any wounds. At least of what she had seen of him. She grimaced—where had that thought come from? She forced her attention back to the conversation.

"World's most powerful? Hardly," she scoffed. His lip twitched.

"What do you know about it?" He looked mildly offended.

"Well, just that a little girl managed to bind you with a spell from a library book—that doesn't seem too impressive to me." She cocked an eyebrow at him, and his eyes narrowed.

"You were lucky. The spell didn't really work. Only because you happened to guess my name." His eyes darkened. "Don't forget it."

"So if I beat you in a fair fight, it's lucky? Is that what you call it when people best you?"

"You haven't bested me. This is just a… a temporary reprieve." She felt the sizing up of this, the squaring off. His prideful bluster against her desperate hope that he didn't really hate her. She tried a different tactic.

"Strange name for such a wicked ghost, Gabriel."

He smiled, just a tiny twitch in the corner. "Depends on your definition of wicked, babes. Look in the mirror. Bloody, dark magic, incantations to bind demons…" He paused, and the smile grew broader, showing more teeth. "Bindin' spells are usually used as a last resort, you realize. Can get really… complicated. So, Lydia Deetz, you must be very, very desperate for my help." He had leaned forward, his nose nearly touching the barrier, and his gaze was intent on her face now, lips parted, teeth gleaming. So this was what lunch felt like? She shuddered. The gold ring, his name… all of it seemed a bit inadequate. She swallowed. Time for truth.

"I am." He raised an upswept eyebrow, inviting her to continue. "I don't know where else to go." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Something… is wrong with me." Now he raised both eyebrows in sarcastic disbelief. But she had to get this all out. "I think that I'm being possessed."

His eyes flickered narrowly, and he tilted his head to the side very slightly. "Why do you say that, Lyds?"

In response, she flushed, and then stood carefully in the confines of the circle, and began to unbutton her shirt. He sat up straighter, a leer blooming on his lips, as he watched her carefully. "Thought you weren't interested?"

"I'm not. But it's still easier to show you, even if it means you drool on my floor." She had reached the bottom and with a hardening of her jaw, she tugged open her shirt. His eyes trailed over her bra almost lovingly, but then his gaze dropped to her stomach.

"What the hell's that?" On her stomach, cut into her flesh, were the words, "CALL HIM." And then, as she turned carefully around, the letters B G B G B G. And on her back, a blackened bruise in the shape of a small hand. She slid her own hand awkwardly on top of the bruises, and they matched. But her hand was in such an odd position that there was no way she could have exerted any pressure. Certainly not enough to cause that kind of damage. He settled back on his heels, a look of concern sitting lightly on his features. She pulled her shirt back on, to his obvious disappointment.

"You know, I might need to take a closer look at those."

"Not hardly. It is what you see. And I don't trust you." So there, she thought, and inwardly rolled her eyes at herself. How did he make her feel like she was sixteen all over again, just by standing there?

"You're gonna have to, aren't you?" He quirked that tiny smile again. "That is, if you really want my help." He peered at her. "Didn't really think this one through, didja, Lydia? Dog on the leash can't hunt, can he?"

And then something happened. Her face went slack. A shape, formless like smoke, trickled into her from outside the circle. The binding spell only protected her from him, of course. He had witnessed many many possessions in his time—had actually been the possessor on a few occasions, but it was a sticky business, and he never liked the way it made him feel. Square peg in a round hole, and such. But bound, he couldn't interrupt, and wouldn't have anyway, and so he just watched quietly, uncertain what to expect from a ghost that would carve holes in a little girl.

Lydia's body stretched sensually, and he heard a throaty purr than gave him chills. Lydia's dark eyes looked down at him, and her mouth stretched in a feral, brutal grin. "Well, well. So she did what I asked."

It was still Lydia's voice. Nothing had changed, except the mechanism behind the movements. He rose to stand carefully balanced, as if he could fight like this. The dark girl in front of him stepped to the very edge of the binding circle, and chuckled. "And look—you're all wrapped up with ribbons and bows. She's such a good little girl. I might keep her."

"You gave her the book?" His voice betrayed nothing but curiosity.

Lydia's body was pulled into a coy pose that didn't suit her. Beetlejuice didn't like it at all. "The spell wasn't actually supposed to work. But surprise, surprise. She must be stronger than I thought."

"Doubt it. So why didn't you call me yourself? If you're so… eager to get to know me?" His mouth twitched up at the corner. But the ghost in Lydia frowned, and wagged her finger at him.

"Don't you recognize me, Beej?" He shook his head, his eyes darkly intent. Lydia's mouth turned down in a pout. It didn't even look like her anymore. But he knew that pout. Icy recognition splashed through him, and his lip twitched in disgust.

"Clara. You found me, then."

"I found her. She found you. Neat way to circumvent the binding, don't you think?" He scowled. Binding spells really could be so friggin' complicated. Lydia's mouth smiled sweetly at him, but her eyes were hard. "We'll talk again when you're feeling less taciturn, sugar."

"Leave the kid out of it." He wished he wasn't in such a weak position to argue. Dammit, Lydia, for knowing his name. His stomach twisted. Did Clara know? If she did, then things would be a lot more complicated than they already were.

"Lift the binding." Her voice was well practiced on that little phrase.

"Suck me."

"Ooh, Beej—such the sexually frustrated poltergeist. I may not be able to say your name, but there are other ways to get your attention." She smirked, and then pulled a small knife from Lydia's boot. "Such a clever girl, don't you think? So much… potential." Lydia's small hand wielded the knife expertly, and sliced through the flesh of her arm. Blood spurted from the gash, and dripped onto the floor, onto the chalk line. He felt the binding begin to break, and bared his teeth at the ghost inside the child. Lydia's mouth twitched nervously. "Well, see ya next time, lover." And she was gone before the binding dissolved. Beetlejuice was loosed just in time to catch Lydia as she toppled heavily to the floor.

The bleeding was already slowing, and his pressed his hand over her wrist to staunch it. This was a fine mess. He sighed, and chewed at his lower lip. Clara. But Lydia was stirring in his arms. She groaned, and her eyes fluttered open. And then a look of stark terror washed over her face.

"What? How did you? What happened? Oh my God!" The pain of the wound lanced through her. "Get away from me!" Tears burst out of her eyes as she crawled backwards into the broken circle. He scowled, and then stood, shaking his head at her.

"You've a pretty problem. Trouble from the moment I met you." He flicked his fingers and a cold damp cloth appeared in his hand. He tossed it to her. "Wrap that around your wrist." But her hands were shaking. Possession was like drug addiction—withdrawal was a bitch. Sighing in disgust, he kneeled in front of her. "M'not gonna hurt you, you idiot. Quit. Gimme that." And he tugged the cloth from her trembling fingers and wrapped it around her wrist. She was sweating and trembling, from their earlier battle and now, this. He'd seen shock enough times to know what came next, and what she needed. He slid his arms under her and lifted her easily onto her bed, and then tucked a pillow under her head.

"I just wanted your help, Beej... I didn't mean this to be a war." Her voice was thready, and it tugged at him. Just a little.

"It's not a war." He stroked her hair away from her forehead, feeling disgustingly tender. "But next time, just friggin' ask, okay?"

"I was afraid… of what you would do to me." A tear leaked out of her eye. "Did it… happen? Did you see?"

"Yeah." She was afraid of him? That was something new. Lydia had never been afraid of him. Maybe she was just delirious. That had to be it. But there was the binding spell to consider. She had clearly felt that he was some threat to her, if she felt the need to protect herself from him. He tucked that away to ponder later.

"You believe me?"

Gruffer, now. "Yeah. I believe you."

"What happened?"

"Just go to sleep. I'll fill you in later." Right now he needed time to think. But he knew he wouldn't get as much time as he wanted. Like a few millennia, at least. Her small hand clutched his sleeve.

"Will you stay? And… behave yourself?" Her voice was a little stronger now. He squinted at her.

"What do I get out of this?"

"Mercenary… she muttered. He grinned. Lydia gave him a contemplative look. "What do you want?"

Well. He hadn't expected that. He frowned, and realized for once that he didn't have a ready answer. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Let me know when you decide." And then she fixed him with a look of such seriousness, that had he had a working heart, it would have stumbled a bit. He nodded at her thoughtfully. And then she closed her eyes, and faded slowly to sleep. Leaving him with a bloody, sleeping girl on his hands, and a terrible specter from his past. Literally, in this case.

He slumped to the bed and shoved Lydia over so that he could stretch out and think. But his thoughts just ran in a tape loop for a long time, repeating the same thing over and over. Dammit. Why did it have to be her?