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Soundtrack: The Chemical Brothers. I think it might be love.

Chapter 5: Deep Waters

When she finally came out of the bathroom, Beetlejuice was propped up against the wall, a towel wrapped around his head and wearing jeans and ragged old bunny slippers. He opened an eye at her, more to gauge whether she intended to hit him than to see what she was wearing. But she stepped over him, towel wrapped tightly around her body, and pulled a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting embroidered black shirt out of the closet, along with bra and underwear, which she tucked under the shirt so he couldn't see. He grinned toothily and settled his head back against the wall.

Lydia dressed behind the door and then grabbed a comb to brush out her hair. She settled on the bed, and arched an eyebrow at him. "That was a really dirty trick."

He eyed her levelly. "I never think about anythin' 'till after I do it, and then only to gloat. You're makin' me think too much. It's annoying." He pulled the towel off his head and shook out his hair, which even clean was sticking out in every direction imaginable. "So you want to hear this, or what?" She nodded, and he stood and dove onto the bed, stretching out and taking up more room than seemed possible for not being but an inch or two taller than she was. She tried to ignore the way the dawn light made his skin glow like molten gold, but it was hard. And when he began to speak, his voice took on the natural lilt of a practiced storyteller, so much that she soon forgot about the tangles still in her hair, and the fury of embarrassment that still lingered from his jaunt into her shower.

"Well, about two hundred years ago, give or take a few decades, I fell in with a gang of haunters. Clara, your friend, was the ringleader, I guess I kinda had a thing goin' there for a while. 'Twas me, went by 'Blackdog' so no one accidentally sent me back. And there was Jerusalem, who I kinda adopted." He chuckled darkly. "Kid could swear up a hurricane. He even made me blush a coupla times. Never heard the like. And there were the two sisters, too—Cypo and Mathy, who spent hours memorizing the Bible so they could quote scripture at the Bells. We were quite the family for a while there." He looked wistful in the soft light. "Got drunk a lot. And Clara, or she went by Kate back then, was always havin' us take the wormholes to the fruit market in Tortuga or the Spice Islands for hazelnuts." He fell silent for a moment, and Lydia set down her comb and curled up on the comforter beside him. Up close, she could still see no marks on him at all—only the smooth, unobtrusive muscle of a man who had worked for a living. But she knew it was rude to ask. Maybe someday he would tell her. Wait… someday? But before she could carry that thought out to its natural conclusion, he began again.

"Anyway, Clara got fond of this woman, Mrs. Bell. It was in Tennessee, if I remember rightly. We did the usual haunting gig—throwin' sticks an' pullin' hair. She'd have us coordinate so that all the kids would scream bloody murder at once. But she hated the husband as much as she loved the wife. I think it might have been because he had abused the eldest daughter… don't know for certain. That's what she held to, whether or not it was true."

"That's awful—no wonder she hated him." Lydia realized that she was being lulled to sleep by his voice, and sat up to shake off her drowsiness. He rose up slightly, and then slid his arm around her and tugged her down against him.

"C'mere, kiddo. You are seriously sleep-deprived."

"Who woke me up before dawn this morning?" But she eased her body into the curve of his, and pressed her cheek against the cool silken skin at the hollow of his shoulder. It felt… peaceful. She was careful not to analyze the feeling too thoroughly.

"Who called me Out into a Binding circle when I was just settlin' in to watch Ghostbusters?" His hand settled into the curve of her hip, in this casual intimacy that he at once welcomed and mistrusted. Granted, she was tired, and he was telling her a story. But they were united by a common enemy at the moment. What happened when they went back to being enemies themselves?

She smiled, unaware of his thoughts. "I was really frightened of what you might do. And now… I think I'm frightened for entirely different reasons."

"What reasons?" He didn't know if he was genuinely curious or just a glutton for punishement.

"Go on with the story?" Her voice held a bit of a plea. Fine, Lyds. Play innocent.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, gathering his scattered thoughts. "So the eldest daughter tried to marry, but Clara decided the boy wasn't good enough for her—too wild, she said. Not gonna treat her right. So she scared him away. Clara had… issues. We were lovers for a while, but she really liked Mathy better'n me, tho Mathy would have none of it. And to tell you the truth… she creeped me out. An' not because of the whole lesbian thing…" He grinned. "That was fine with me. But she liked to… hurt people. Breathers. She liked to hurt me to, though that… well, I guess you probably don't want to know." Lydia was looking at him with a mixture of horror and fascination.

"She could hurt you?" Her voice was just a whisper.

"Sure. I hurt. You didn't think so?" He scowled at her. "Typical breather, Lyds. I thought better of you." She crinkled her brow in consternation, and smoothed her hand across his breast.

"There's a lot I don't understand, Beej. Starting with why we're curled up in bed together, and going on from there. So if I screw up, I'm sorry. These are deep waters."

"You said it, kid." He fumbled for a moment with his now thoroughly confused feelings. "Where was I? Ah, right. Anyway, she gave Mrs. Bell gifts of fruit and hazelnuts; even cracked them for her once when she was ill. At the same time, she was slowly killin' the husband. Would swell up his tongue, and choke him, make it impossible for him to speak or eat. It was slow, and I guess it got too slow for Clara. So one night, she murdered him in his bed."

"What?" Lydia strained against his arm, trying to sit up, and he let her, so that she was staring down at him, mouth open in horror. He nodded soberly.

"Poison. Though the family stupidly destroyed the evidence. I think it was belladonna, tho, cuz it was both effective an' local. And I think she had been usin' it for some time, from all the tongue swellin'. Nasty business." He sighed, feeling tired all of the sudden. "Anyway, Juno caught wind of it, and Clara was tried and exorcised—not that it got rid of her, as you can see. Figured she would find a way out. We barely escaped with our souls. Even with that, she was Bound from saying my name, to call me back to her." He peered up at Lydia. "I guess that's where you come in."

"Which name could she not say? The B-word or Ga—" But he pressed a cool hand over her mouth, suddenly wide-eyed.

"She doesn't know my true name, Lyds. No one does. Except you."

"What if she did? What if she found out?"

"Disaster." His raw tone chilled her. "If she could possess me… I guess she would use me to try an' tear down the Wall."

"The Wall?"

"The barrier between Life and Death. If she could do that, she would be free. But so would everything else." He looked bleakly up at her, and then reached up and pulled her back down against him. But he didn't know if it was more to comfort her or himself. Her warm weight against him was an anchor in the darkness. But she had gone still.

"You… you could do that?"

He squeezed her gently. "Dunno. With the right focus, anythin' is possible." She pressed her face into his neck and slid her arms around him to clasp together against his side. He cupped her head in his hand and held her. The enemy of his enemy. He might have even kissed her hair. When she spoke again, he could barely hear her.

"I don't want the world to end."

"What would you be willing to do to stop it?" Had he still had a heart, it would have been pounding.

"Anything." Just a breath.

"Would you be willin' to allow her inside you again?"

"Ew. Why in hell would you want that? Unless you have some sick, perverted fantasy in mind…"

He bared his teeth at her. "Cuz that's when she's weakest. Cage of flesh and blood. She feels what you feel."

"Beej, this is my bodyyou're talking about here." He rolled suddenly then, pinning her underneath him, their bodies separated by an arm's length. She struggled but could not budge him. "Dammit!"

"What are you willing to do, Lydia?" Uh oh—full name. "Because I would like to save your life, God knows why, since you treat me so well, and I only have one single idea, and it may not even work!"

"What are you talking about?" Lydia's voice was shaking with fury, and she struggled underneath him, trying to overbalance him. He smiled grimly at her.

"If we could distract her… make her forget, make her surrender, then I could bag her. And if I can bag her, then I can hold her."

Lydia stilled, realizing her struggle was pointless. Beetlejuice relaxed his hold on her shoulders, but did not release her. "Bag her? I don't understand." She closed her eyes, looking pained. "I don't understand any of this."

"Look." His voice was terse. "Everythin' that exists has edges, ghosts and breathers alike. The less spiritual space you take up, the easier it is to possess you—s'why it's simpler to possess children than adults. When she takes you, Lyds, her edges can't go beyond your physical body, but she fills it. If I were to try and take her then, it would be like driving two cars at once. Don't recommend it." He looked carefully at her, to make sure that she was listening. She was, slightly wide-eyed. "If we can somehow get her to back off a little… to relax her hold on you just a hair's breadth, then I can get in-between the two of you, and it's Ziploc time."

"You're sure you can hold her?"

"Do you owe me for savin' your skin?"

She scowled. "Maybe."

"Then maybe I can hold her."

Lydia frowned at him thoughtfully, not sure whether he was playing with her or telling the truth. "And what if she gets you instead?"

He raised both eyebrows. "Then I guess you don't have to worry about me collectin'." He snorted gently, and she gave him a wry smile.

Another question formed on her lips, one that she dreaded the answer to. "Did she hear me say your name?"

"Hope not." And he fervently did. Lydia had been in the circle. But if Clara had heard, had figured it out… then this would be much harder. Not impossible. He was a scrapper, after all. In a fair fight he would be the stronger by far. Even in an unfair fight. But she had escaped an Exorcism. And he didn't know her true name.

Lydia swallowed. "So how do you intend to do this? She possesses me, and then what, Beej? What's your big plan?"

"S'more of a haphazard hope than a plan, really…" He showed his teeth in a small, wistful smile.

"This is not making me feel better, Beej."

"This won't help, then." He collapsed his arms, closing the distance between them in a rush, and his mouth found hers, his arms sliding around her back and the nape of her neck. She was so shocked at first that she didn't react. He found her lower lip with his teeth and bit gently… and just for a moment, she arched slightly, her hips pressing involuntarily up into his. And then she lashed out with both arms and legs, thrashing against him and yelping angrily.

"Bastard! How dare you!" He let her go immediately, scooting to the edge of the bed, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth.

When he finally found his voice, it was rough around the edges. "That may not have been enough time. Can you hold still a little longer?"

She scrubbed at her mouth with a corner of the bedsheet, casting him a look of utter disgust. He smiled a hungry smile at her, knowing that half of that at least was just for show, remembering how she had moved against him. And he knew what he had to know. They had a chance.

If she would just get over herself.