Beetlejuice doesn't belong to me. If you want to split hairs, I don't know exactly who he belongs to… Tim Burton, The Geffen Film Company, whoever wrote the myriad of scripts… (Probably not that last.) It's all legal techno-babble to me, and I don't know much about that stuff. I do know enough not to claim he's mine, or try to make money off him, or I'm screwed. Which sucks. I mean, who wouldn't want to make a living doing what they love? But I guess I should just be grateful I can do it at all… Where would I be, if I couldn't? …Probably doing it anyway, but if anyone asks, I'll deny it. You'll vouch for me, right?

Oh, andI Am Ghost, belongs to I Am Ghost, and so do their songs.

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It's not a song-fic. Not really. It's just the closest I'll probably ever get to a song-fic. And yes, I did listen to I Am Ghost's newest CD for pretty much the whole thing, but no, it doesn't tie in. I just like it. Goodness, almost a whole week since I posted? And I haven't been hunted down with the write-more blunt instruments of persuasion? Maybe I'm losing my touch... Heh.

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The house was cold when Olivia walked in, the way the haunted building only was when something was wrong in the snug little world of its resident ghosts. So she knew from its kiss against her skin that something wasn't right, long before the door swung shut, and revealed them huddled together on the couch, whispering in hushed tones.

Barbara looked up to see her, and relief rushed her face, still torn with some worry or fear, when in all fairness, nothing should frighten the dead. Hard music drifted from the floor above, as the ghost woman stood, and crossed the distance to her longest running human friend. "Something's wrong with Lydia." She said softly, not in the way of, 'oh my god, she's hurt,' but still with enough concern to make the goth woman's stomach twist a little.

Olivia set down her purse, drawing her coat slowly from her back as she looked from one to the other. Adam's face was tense, and he kept looking off to the stairwell, like it was all he could do not to run up the stairs again, as he might have countless times before. It didn't explain why, if something was wrong with her daughter, the two were down here, rather than with her. "What's going on?" She asked softly, evenly. She wasn't panicking, not yet. Lydia didn't get in trouble like that anymore. It was a phase she'd grown out of, as far as Olivia knew.

Uneasily, Barbara brushed off her simple dress, trying to find the right words to explain her concern. "Lydia was sick when she woke up today," She said at last, carefully, "But it didn't seem bad. But then she got into some kind of argument with Vincent on the phone, and the next thing I know, she's running out of the house, and gone for hours, without a word. Then when she comes home, she locks herself in her room, and…" A pause here, before softly, "Adam and I can't get in."

Can't get in? Olivia's lips deepened in a frown, as she took cast a glance up the stairs, to her daughter's door. Can't get in? But they were ghosts… The only thing that should be able to stop them from getting in, was a stronger…

Panic briefly seized her heart, and her eyes, wide with alarm, spun to the two again. "He's not in there with her, is he?" She rasped, suddenly weak. It had been years since she'd thought of him. Years, since he'd threatened to make her daughter carry out the promise she'd broken. But he had gotten back into the living world before…

Both ghosts looked surprised, as if this simply hadn't occurred to them before, and yet there was no need for her to explain who she meant. "I don't know," Barbara admitted, reminding her softly, "We can't get in."

Olivia took no further time for explanation, but took the stairs two at a time, throwing open her daughter's door when she reached it. Lydia's immediate reaction was to throw the sketchbook closed that she'd been bent over, and turn angry, accusing eyes to the woman intruding on her privacy. "Doesn't anybody know how to knock?" She demanded coldly.

Her mother took a long moment to look around the room, carefully, for anything out of place… But there was no sign of the trouble-making poltergeist from her youth. Finally her eyes settled on Lydia again, her lips tightening into an unhappy expression, as she took in the morbid music vibrating angrily through the air, far too loudly, and the look of utter defiance on her daughter's face. "Why couldn't Barbara and Adam get in?" She asked the girl, still angry over her own temporary alarm. "They were worried sick about you?"

Lydia's fingers flared against the smooth, dark wood of her desk, but her mother thought she looked slightly surprised. "Don't know." She answered bluntly, in the sort of way that Olivia had no way to know if she was lying. "Look, I'm fine, just… leave me alone."

Olivia glanced at the old CD player, trying to place the violent, death-filled music. "What are you listening to?" She demanded, as if this were truly the reason she was angry, still looking for some way to vent.

"'I Am Ghost's,' newest album." Lydia answered, just as bluntly. "I picked it up while I was in town. What, am I in trouble for listening to music now?" Her eyes flashing, she was looking for a fight, and both women there knew it.

Olivia didn't know what was wrong, but suspected it had something to do with the girl's long-time boyfriend, and the conversation Barbara had mentioned earlier. The ghost woman meanwhile, peeked in behind her, eyebrows twisted in worry… Especially as she found she still couldn't cross the doorway. "Lydia," Barbara prompted over the angry cries of music, "Did something happen with Vincent?"

Her eyes lit on the ghost woman, and briefly, softened, in a way they rarely did, when regarding her real mother. "We got in a little argument," She grumbled, turning back to her desk with an almost guilty frown, and putting her sketchbook in the top drawer, "It's no big deal."

Young love, Olivia mused, trying to remind herself that her daughter was usually well behaved, Is never, 'no big deal.' So the girl was throwing a tantrum, she'd probably just broken up with the guy she'd been dating for more than three years now. Every girl had the right to throw at least a little hissy fit when that happened.

"You want to talk about it?" Olivia prompted, wondering if she was really the right one to make that offer, when Barbara would surely be a hundred times more patient with the girl. She didn't really move any further into the room, expecting to be dismissed regardless…

And not disappointed. "Not really." Lydia ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh, clearly still sulking, and from her appearance, not certain herself why. "Look, I'm just… going out of my mind right now. I need to listen to loud music and brood, and I'll be fine." She glanced back at her. "But I can turn it down a little, if you want."

About to say that it was a little loud for her, Olivia took one look at the unhappy turn of her daughter's mouth, and reconsidered. How many times had she needed to listen to loud music, and brood, only never to be allowed by her father and Delia? "That's fine, Lydia." Was all she said instead, taking a step back. In an effort to show some continued concern for her daughter's well being, even though she knew damn well she should probably leave well enough alone, she added solicitously, "What were you drawing?"

Lydia looked up at her flatly, a spark of anger reappearing in her eye. "A nude self-portrait." She explained flatly, in a way that made no bones over being a blatant lie. "Did you want to see it?"

Olivia's mouth twisted in something between contempt and pity, and shook her head, retreating from the room completely. "I hope your cold feels better." Was all she said to that, before closing the door.

Great. She'd just gotten past the defiant spoiled brat stage, and now the girl was going full blown moody teenager on her. Thank god she only had the one…

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"You know babes, if you're drawing nude pictures of yourself, I'm gonna have to take a look at 'em." A voice intruded into her world, not at all unexpectedly, as Beetlejuice appeared a few feet to her right, grinning lecherously. "You know, make sure you got the details right, and all that."

"How would you know if I got the details right?" She grumbled, pulling the sketchbook back out of her drawer anyway, and tossing it in his direction.

He just cackled, waggling his eyebrows at her, and flipped it open to the most recent page… Only for his brows to then fly up in surprise. "Well hell babes, doesn't look much like you… But I gotta say, your model's damn sexy, just the same." His image must have graced the page half a dozen times, posed in various ways, looking unkempt, bedraggled, and oddly come-hither, with a sensual twist to his lips, and a beckoning to his eyes. "This really how I look, babes?"

When she didn't answer, he turned his gaze back to her, frowning, and brushing off his arms again, where an irritating tingle continued to build. Like he had pins and needles or something… But that was an affliction purely of the living. She looked irked about something, but he didn't really pay much mind, scratching his throat now. "What you hell, you got spectral fleas in here, or something?" He griped, casting an irritated glance around the room…

And pausing at the sight of the protection symbol looped hugely over the back of her door, matching the one currently on her cheek. He gave a little, strangled sound of irritation, and twisted his fingers, yanking her from her chair, and spinning her around to face the door. "Get that fucking thing off there!" He roared, suddenly angry with the girl, who more than likely, didn't know what the fuck she'd done.

Lydia cast a curious look at him, suddenly no longer upset herself, then shrugged, grabbed a dirty shirt from the corner, and spat on it, scrubbing away the eyeliner that had formed the nasty little ward. Even once it was completely disfigured though, and the antsy feeling had left him, Beetlejuice was still more than a little annoyed with the girl. "What the hell, you trying to exorcise a guy, or what? Popping in on you with that damn ward on your room…"

This surprised her, mildly, but didn't impress her for long. "It'd take more than that to finish you off." She muttered, falling back into her funk, though with him there, not quite as much a before. "Ghost with the most."

"Well, yeah…" He muttered, marginally appeased. "But still, what the fuck, babes? You tired of my company that fast?"

"I don't know… I was pissed. I wasn't thinking." Belatedly, she squirted some lotion onto the shirt, and starting scrubbing at the copy on her face as well. "Needed some time alone… No big deal. You're fine, aren't you?"

Beetlejuice considered the girl, who threw the wadded up, worse for the wear, shirt back into its corner, and plopped herself back at her desk, snatching her sketchbook back from his fingers. Who'd stuck a spider up her ass? She'd been fine when he'd left her, not two hours before… "You okay, kid?" He muttered, forgetting his uncomfortable brush with old magic. "You look like someone stole your favorite chocolate beetle dip."

A small pause, then, with an irritated grunt, "Don't call me 'kid.' I'm not a 'kid' anymore." She cast a short look at him, adding, "Right?"

"Sure, whatever." He hooked one ankle behind the other, considering her with a long, studying gaze. "Old habits die hard, babes." Of course she was a kid compared to him, her grandparents were kids compared to him… But hell if he was going to argue with her, when she was in a mood like this. "So what's got your panties in a twist, anyhow?"

Lydia just flipped open her sketchbook again, pointedly ignoring him, and started drawing again. What the fuck was with this girl's mood swings today? He scowled, and watched her draw out a new sketch of him, this time in the red suit he wore each year to attend the local Halloween parties… She paused every now and then to bite the pencil between her perfect little teeth, eye flashing, before returning to her drawing with a renewed vengeance.

"All right," He grumbled at last, resigned to taking the brunt of her bad humor, "So what'd I do now?" She glanced up at him, briefly, blankly. "Hell, kid- er, Lyds- You never get pissed at me unless I've pulled some really stupid shit, but this time, I swear to god I'm drawing a blank. Give me a hint, will you?"

The girl continued staring at him for a long, long time, then slowly took a deep breath in, shook her head, and splayed her fingers across her face, like she was hiding behind them. "Nothing." She denied softly, in a way that gave no indication she was lying, or even mad anymore at all. "Just, kind of in a bad mood. Didn't mean to take it out on you, but I've already taken it out on everybody else, so…" She cast him sort of a weak smile from behind her hand.

"You were fine at the bar." He grumbled, still relieved she wasn't pissed at him. "What the hell those folks of yours do to you?" He scratched the crusty stuff on his neck, pausing at the extended stare she was giving him, still from behind her fingers. He sneered at her, back in good humor. "You hiding, babes? 'Cause I gotta tell you… That's a shitty hiding spot."

Her lips turned up at the corners, just a little, and she sighed, her hand falling away obligingly. "So why are you in a good mood?" She demanded, just a little tolerantly amused. "You have fun with your new score?"

New score? Beetlejuice smirked, lidding his eyes at her. "Oh yeah babes, a blast. You want to hear the details?" He was further amused at her slight flinch, and deliberate turn from him. "Yeah, didn't think so." Damn bitch had thrown everything but the kitchen sink at him when he told her it was over, and that not from lack of trying. He should've known she was getting too fucking attached… Good thing he'd ended it when he had. Some broads were so fucking clingy…

"So I guess I won't be seeing much of you for a while." She mused softly, turning her attention back to her sketch. "You'll be too busy with your new ghoul…"

"Actually, you'll be seeing a lot of me." He denied matter-of-factly, trying to look as dignified as possible, which usually had the effect of making her laugh… Which was actually what he was aiming for. For once though, the goth girl didn't rise to the bait. That irritated him, but he went on anyway, as if he didn't care either way. "I told the needy little broad to take a hike."

Lydia paused, her pencil still on the paper. After a moment, she made a soft sound of acknowledgement, and resumed drawing. "I know you too well, Beej. The only way you'd do that, is if you already had a better offer. Either way, you'll still be making yourself scarce."

Beetlejuice frowned. What was with Lyds today? That time of month kind of thing? She'd never been this moody before. "You getting cramps, babes?" He asked bluntly, only to have the unplanned effect of making her laugh… But it wasn't her usual, light sort of laugh. It kind of made him want to look behind him for sandworms. "Then what the hell's with this moody shit? I broke up with the broad because I wanted to spend some time with you, for a while!"

This actually made Lydia stop, put down her pencil, and turn in her seat, giving him a long, even look. "I'm the better offer, Beej?" She asked softly, in the kind of way that made every alarm in his mind scream at him to deny this with every ounce of juice he had. Like it was just such a fucking impossible idea…

He just frowned at her, until she slowly relented, and got that soft, apologetic look on her face again. Like she knew she was being an ass, and wasn't certain herself why. She adjusted herself in her seat, until she was on her knees, hugging the back of the chair, considering him with a look he couldn't read, through the woodwork of the back. "Huh." She finally said at last, like a surrendering of distance. "Okay, I guess I'm the better offer, then."

If he'd had a heartbeat, it would have skipped, at the way this sounded to his ears. Hell, he'd love it if she was the better offer… But he doubted she meant it this way. Still, even being the better possibility was enough to win his interest for the time being.

"So turn off that damn howling shit, and let's go have some fun." He agreed, snapping his fingers, tempted to simply hurl the source of the loud music out the window, but simply shutting it off instead. "You and me'll go to the Shocking Maul, poke fun at all the shitty fashions the dead are wearing these days. It'll be a blast." He gave her a tooth-baring grin, hoping she didn't see through him, suddenly reluctant to make the move he'd been planning for the past two hours. That could wait until she was in a better mood…

"Huh." She said again, but this time she was smiling, her head tilted a little, her eyes soft with amusement. "That sounds kinda fun… But I think I'll get in trouble if I take off again, after this morning."

"Rules." He sniffed, adjusting his lapels with another effort at dignity, this time successfully making her laugh, "You know I hate them. Suit yourself babes… We'll just hang out here 'till you go stir crazy. That oughta be fun." He paused, then, unable to resist, he leered at her pervertedly, adding, "Or, you know, we could make our own fun…"

Lydia giggled, figuring he was joking, and he sighed inwardly. Of course, if he had been serious, that would have been a pretty unpleasant blow to the ego, but… "Your problem, babes," He informed her matter-of-factly, "Is you don't know a good thing when you see it."

Her giggles stopped, and she glanced at him sort of sideways, a pretty little smirk set on her own pale pink lips. "Don't I?" She teased, clearly back to her usual self, whatever the hell had been bugging her before. "Guess I won't know until I actually see something good, huh?" She flicked her fingers at him as he was about to protest, adding, "I mean, clearly I don't know a good thing when I see it. I've only been hanging out with you for three years now, common sense be damned."

That, oddly, not only placated, but also amused him to no end. "Babes, you're a hell of a comedian." He informed her with a grunt, and a grin, grabbing her by the arm, and pulling the both of them to the floor. "You gonna listen to music Lyds, listen to something we can dance to, all right?" Another snap, and some swing stuff from the twenties poured out of her stereo, straight from the neitherworld.

She giggled, and offered no protest as he spun her around in a clumsy effort at a dance. It had been too long since he'd really had someone to dance with… Or even any interest in dancing. So there was a lot of stepping on each other's feet, until he gave up the floor completely, and proceeded to boogie through the air.

After about three dances, Lydia shoved him back with a laugh, delightfully out of breath, her chest heaving as she fell heavily to her mattress, eyes gleaming with life. "Beej," She informed him breathlessly, grinning, "If I gotta share you, at least I get the half of you that knows how to have fun."

He just smirked. Fun? She wanted to talk about fun? They hadn't even started having fun… "So you ready to go to the neitherworld, babes?" He taunted, tapping his knuckles against his chin with a twisted little sneer. "Or you really worried about getting in trouble now?"

"You are a terrible influence." She informed him amusedly, getting unsteadily to her feet, her pretty little chest still heaving from their dance. "All right, one hour at the Shocking Maul… One hour! And if I end up having to clean as a punishment, you are so going to help me!"

"Ah…" He made a sound like he was disappointed, tipping his head to the side a little, before sneering a challenge at her demands, and cackling under his breath… "B-words, babes. You know how this works."

Her eyes flashed, a sort of overwhelming surge of joy that he still wasn't used to, as she showed her teeth in her own version of Beetlejuice's feral smile. "Beetlejuice…" She whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, her eyes narrowed. "Beetlejuice…" She stood, and walked to within about a foot of him, reaching out and snagging his arm, and lifting her small frame to within about an inch of his face, as breathlessly, teasingly, she whispered, so enticingly… "Beetlejuice."

It was all he could do to hold onto her as they ripped through the separation between the living world and the neitherworld, his skin dancing with her heat, his mouth dry, and for the first time in all the time he'd been dead, feeling a serious need for air he couldn't claim…

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It was in fact, many hours before they returned to the living world together, and Lydia pretty much immediately fell out in bed, not even putting on pajamas… Or waiting for Beetlejuice to leave. He lifted himself up on her dresser, watching her with an amused little twist to his lips, eyes lidded with something almost like fondness, as he watched her.

He sat crossed legged, leaning back against the mirror, more tired than he cared to admit himself. It had been days since he'd slept… Not that the dead really needed to sleep, but like breathing, it was just something that was nice to do, from time to time.

The air still tasted a little of the damn ward she'd put up… He'd have to remind her not to do that again. It was night now, and dark, and he should probably be anywhere else, but for once, he wasn't in a hurry to leave. Lydia obviously didn't care if he stayed. With a twitch of his fingers, he pulled the sketchbook she'd left out back to him, a little amused at the stupid chance they'd taken, leaving it where it could be seen.

At his first few glances, he was more or less impressed by how well she'd captured him… As far as he knew, anyway. The mirrors on this side didn't work, and he hadn't paid much attention to the ones on the other side, in years. But his impressed amusement changed as he flipped through more pages, and found more drawings… All of him. Page after page of himself, with maybe every expression he'd ever offered her, in natural, lounging poses, or defiant stances, or indifferent dismissal.

In fact, to his gradual amazement, he realized that every picture in the sketchbook was of him… Some dating back months, even to the beginning of the previous year. The girl was friggin obsessed with drawing him! Not that there was anything wrong with that… He put his thumb to his lips, turning over the idea for the first time that maybe the kid had a crush on him, or something.

Sure. Right. And while he was at it, Juno wanted to jump his bones too. He snorted, pleased with the attention, only some of which was lost in the darkness, but not willing to fool himself. The kid thought he was some kind of game, one she had a blast playing, but wasn't about to take it any further than that. He sniffed, standing, and shoving the sketchbook back in her drawer, with a little sound. God knew why she was drawing him so much, but he probably couldn't turn it to his own best interest.

Her door took that moment to crack open, and he quickly went invisible, frowning in the direction of the arrow of light that pierced his Lyds darkness. It was that guy, Ed or something… Just call him Chucky. Close enough. He moved through the shadows, only stopped at his daughter's bed, and sat on its edge slowly, considering her in her sleep. A brush of his fingers, against the crown of her head, didn't even make her stir. The girl was tired.

He watched her sleep for a few minutes, which Beetlejuice marked as just creepy, regardless of the fact that it was the same thing he'd been doing before the guy came in. Then he got to his feet, walked around her bed to the nightstand on the other side, and picked up the slender CD case resting beside her stereo. Turning her lamp a little, so the light wouldn't shine on her, he flipped it on, and examined the cover… What he saw didn't seem to please him. But he said nothing, just putting it down, and shutting the light off again.

Ol' Chucky didn't head to the door right away, turning a long, slow glance around the room, making Beetlejuice's hair prickle on end when it swept over him lingeringly, as if somehow this man, who had so much of his daughter's gaze, could sense him the way she could. Something certainly seemed to unsettle him, but for now, he kept it to himself.

When he finally did move to leave, he left the door cracked just a hair, and glanced over his shoulder one last time, his gaze landing squarely on the poltergeist, before it turned back to his daughter. "Lydia…" He murmured, like something was just really worrying him about the girl. In the next moment though, he was gone.

With a twitch of his hand, Beetlejuice closed the door more securely behind him, if only after he was a safe distance away. He was curious now, Liv was supposed to be the one with the heavy grasp on ghostly shit, but twice now, Lyds old man had looked right at him, like he knew he was there… Or at least, knew something was there.

Beetlejuice drifted over to her nightstand, taking his own time, trying not to show to no one at all just how unsettled the encounter had left him. The case, as he picked it up, depicted a ghoul that looked just as much alive as dead, and a bit, in passing, like some broad he'd known centuries before. Not needing the light, he pulled the booklet out, squinting at it, more from a habit he'd picked up than a need, opened it to a random page, and started reading some of the words within.

I found a place where they can never hurt you,

A place where every day is Halloween,

A lovely state of mind where we can run free…

These words kind of surprised him, so he sat on the edge of her bed, not really thinking not to wake her, and continued peering through the book. Whoever had written it had a severe obsession with the dead, but the odd part was that with all the words he hadn't been able to make out before… Some of them described his relationship with Lyds pretty well, while others disturbed even him. He skimmed down a little more…

I'm such a sucker for a pretty girl in black,

With skin so white…

"Huh." He murmured softly, shaking his head, and putting the booklet back. He suddenly felt as if he'd intruded somewhere he didn't belong… And for him, that was saying something.

She moved beside him, and to his surprise, her hand reached out to grasp him firmly by the thigh. He looked down at her pale, delicate fingers for a moment, then grinned, and shook his head. "That's a hell of an id you got there, babes," He noted to her under his breath, "Freud would be proud."

Gently he removed her hand from his leg, only to have her open her eyes, fix them on him with a sort of puzzled look, and frown. "Um… It's not what it looks like, babes." He assured her hastily, only to follow this with a grin, adding, "But hell, say the word, it could be…"

Lydia snickered, which all in all was a more favorable reaction than she could have come up with, rolled over, and prompted went back to sleep, utterly unfazed by the poltergeist's presence on her bed.

He stared at her for a long, long moment, then, before he could question himself too far, stretched himself out on the mattress beside her, until they were lying together. When she didn't react to this, he reached his arm gently around her middle, drawing her back against him, until they were what could have been called spooning.

She shivered, just a little, and sighed, snuggling deeper into her blanket. "Beej, you're cold…" She complained in a murmur, making him lift his head, and stare at her in surprise. He was more surprised though, to find that despite her complaint, she wasn't really awake. Could she be dreaming about him? What the fuck?

"Hell of an id you got there, babes." He whispered again, drawing close enough to her that he could smell her hair, and even feel the silky strands against his chin. She just sighed in her sleep again, this time not commenting. Well shit, he'd wanted to sleep… He just had to make himself scarce before she actually woke up. Funny… He'd never have figured himself for being content to just sleep with a chick. Actually sleep.

But hell, this was Lyds… With her, all bets were off…

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