Chapter 16: Out With It

The orange-hued light from a nearby window had finally caused Beetlejuice to pry his crusty eyes open. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep, cigar still hanging lazily from his lips, burnt from end to end. He grimaced, spitting the ashy remains from his mouth as he proceeded to stretch and scratch certain unmentionable areas, before removing his carcass from his previous resting spot.

As soon as the haze of waking had ended, Beetle found his mind wondering to the files he'd read the night before. Involuntarily, his eyes darted to the sofa, noting that it was empty and Lydia was nowhere in sight.

"Ugh...Fuck me..." he muttered to himself, disturbed by not only what he was about to tell her, but by the fact that he was disturbed by anything happening to anyone. Hell, he was actually experiencing a bout of anxiety. Him. Nervous. He hadn't felt anything even close to that emotion since he'd accidentally taken home that tranny, and that was a whole other ball game. Two balls to be exact.

Beetle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and ignoring the usual morning snacks crawling on the back of it. He quietly stepped through the roadhouse, examining each room for signs of Lydia, all the while wondering just how she would react. Sure, she'd broken her deal with him in the past and caused him all sorts of not-goodness, and sure he may have wanted just a teensy-weensy speck of revenge, but he realized he actually didn't wish to see her crushed.

After a bit of searching, he found that she'd crept into his bed again, like she'd grown accustomed to do over time. Beetle scowled, mentally berating himself for being the one sleeping on the couch in his own home. For letting her pussy-whip him into submission. For putting the toilet seat down. Didn't he say he wasn't going to do that?

Figuring that her slumber was actually biding him some time, he grunted, shrugged, and seated himself on his sofa, pulling a flask from one of his endless pockets. Might as well drink up, he figured. It was gonna be one long hell of a day.

Ten flasks later, Beetlejuice was startled by three Lydias stepping into the living room. "Ugh..." he muttered, rubbing his eyes and focusing his blurry vision to find that she had not actually multiplied by some weird ghost-mitosis shit. Of course she couldn't. She couldn't do anything. Lydia had no powers because she hadn't found out all that awful shit about her death. That shit that he had yet to tell her in his currently trashed state.

He straightened himself, snapping a cigarette between his grimy fingers and making the afterlife's worst attempt to resemble something sober. Of course, that idea totally went down the shitter, considering he was still holding an open flask while surrounded by all the other incriminating evidence.

"So...Did you read it all?" Lydia asked him quietly, while slowly seating herself beside him.

"Uhhh...yeah..." he slurred, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Damn this was uncomfortable. He could barely look her in the eyes, and when he did, she seemed completely unreadable.

Lydia sighed, as if preparing herself for something potentially traumatic. "So, what's the verdict? Is it...bad?" she asked, looking a bit dreadful. "It is, isn't it?" she remarked, now eyeing his heaping pile of empty alcohol containers.

"Huh...What gave it away?" Beetle smirked, attempting to lighten the mood, though it seemed both of them knew it was not pleasant.

Lydia returned a faint, uneasy smirk, before falling somber again. "What happened?" she asked hesitantly.

Beetle quickly downed his flask and tossed it to the side. "Junes was right. You got hit by a car." he began, growing uncharacteristically tense inside.

Lydia nodded, gesturing for him to get on with it. "And?"

"And..." Beetle stalled. Damn, why was this so hard? Why was he worried about it? Why did he give two shits about Lydia Deetz's feelings? He knew exactly why, and it scared the living hell out of him. If crushing her with bad news was this hard, just how the fuck was he supposed to marry some living chick and be a free man? This wasn't him. This wasn't the Ghost with the Most. He needed to get the hell on with it. "He did it, Deetz." he stated bluntly, trying his best to be his former self and stifle the emotional angst gnawing at his insides.

He watched as her face twisted up in confusion. "Who did it?"

"Ughh...That dickhead you were gonna marry. You know, that prick with the dumbass name. He was out partyin' with some broad with fake cans. He decided to drive her to that party you were stalkin' him at. The asshole was completely shitfaced, mind you..." he grumbled, trying to concentrate on not caring about the pitiful expression falling on her features, which was stirring something really fucking inconvenient inside of himself. Not only did his pity for her grow against his own will, but a pang of jealousy began to fill him up as well. Seeing her eyes begin to glaze over with tears only fueled his jealous feelings. Why the fuck did she waste her time crying over some cocksucker with the name Eugene? Hell, that was even worse than the name Gerald!

Nevertheless, he held in his rage for once. Something in the way she looked at him with her big doe eyes, wide and full of pain, caused him to dial back on his usual asshole-esque behavior. "He didn't even see ya comin', Babe..." he spoke a bit more softly, which deeply caused him to question himself for changing so much over one woman. His instinct was to fight against this disturbingly docile part of himself and do something really douchey just to protect his own ego. He really, really wanted to. He pondered, even briefly fantasized, about ranting on how stupid she was for choosing such a loser, just to widen the dangerously close gap between them. But, for some reason, he didn't fight it. He just sat there being all concerned and shit. He looked at her, sighing not only because of her obvious angst, but due to his own bitter defeat.

She had won. Lydia-fuckin'-Deetz had won. And he didn't even feel pissed about it at this point. This was some really scary shit. Beetle cleared his throat, just to break the awful silence in the room. "You okay, Babe?"

Lydia paused a moment, before slowly nodding. "Yeah...I am...I will be...I, uh..." she stuttered, before standing abruptly. "I-is it okay if I take a walk, BJ? I just need to, uh, clear my head..." she continued, clearly shaken and quickly wiping her tears away in what seemed to be embarrassment.

Instinctively, Beetle stood up, blocking her path. "Uh...You sure you're okay?" he asked, giving into his concerns for once in his afterlife.

"Yeah...Can I go? Please?" she asked urgently, in what seemed like her best attempt to hold back her emotions, though she was clearly failing.

Surprised that Lydia had even cared enough to ask his permission for anything, Beetle shrugged uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. You don't have to ask me any more, Babe. I done told ya yer free. You can do what ya want."

At his words, Lydia didn't speak. She only nodded, quickly bolting out the front door. Beetle juice stood speechless, watching her run out of sight.