Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Okay, this is short, granted, but by the time I got to the end, adding another scene would have been, well, too long. As for the plot... Remember people, there is a reason Beetlejuice fell for her in the first place. Whether he wants to admit it or not... The thing is, last time, it took a long time, and, well... There might not be enough time, this time. We'll see.

--------------------------------

If she didn't know before that Beetlejuice was a nasty customer to cross, Lydia learned it that night, quickly. He killed, not just without remorse, but with a sort of savage pleasure. He didn't hesitate to cause pain… And he never killed quickly. She swore she was going to have nightmares about this after it was done.

But it would be done. She would get Beetlejuice back. Just the same, after the first place they visited together, she stayed on the other side of the door, while he asked the questions. This didn't blot out the sounds of screams. But it also meant she could hear the answers, when they were finally offered. And her friend it seemed, always managed to get his answers.

Unfortunately, the answers were always the same. They didn't know who had done it. They just knew why. The prospect of being used as a weapon against him, made Lydia's stomach twist, and her eyes sting in anger. Damn it, someone wanted him to kill her… She was just a tool to hurt her best friend. It was the first time she might actually have wanted to kill someone more than he did.

"… you said, she's the best thing you got going for you…" The voice inside was rasping more, a suicidal little laugh coloring the pained confession. "Why the hell wouldn't someone take that away from… urg!" A deep, guttural sound, followed almost immediately by that same, utterly mad laughter. "…love to see the look on your face… Ripped that little bitch to pieces, didn't you?"

After this, anything he had to say became pretty much unintelligible, and Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line, pointedly not caring what horrors Beetlejuice was visiting on the guy. That was the thing, everyone they'd questioned seemed to think he'd had this coming… No one gave a damn either way about her role in it. Hate was a strong word, but in this case, it was exactly what she was feeling. She didn't even flinch at the solid, nasty sound of something solid giving way to something liquid. Instead she felt vindicated. Even now, even if he didn't notice, B was still looking out for her.

The door swung open, Beetlejuice looking nothing so much as annoyed. When his gaze landed on her, that expression just deepened into a frown. A moment later though, he just looked away, and walked past, wondering under his breath what the hell he'd been thinking. She knew what he meant, and didn't care. She just fell into step beside him.

They'd made it about half a block, when Beetlejuice, his hands shoved in his pockets, glanced over his shoulder at her, and took in the fact that the living girl was barely even on her feet. The sun was almost back up over the horizon, making it a day since she'd had any sleep. Not that he cared. But it was odd, seeing her stumble along so determinedly, on account of his missing memories.

A slight discomfort chose that moment to make itself known, and the poltergeist grimaced, laying his hand over his blood soaked middle. Damn, he was hungry. "So, what do you breathers eat?" He demanded, not sparing another glance in her direction.

"Not much you'd like, B." She answered with a smile, her voice somehow still light and undamaged by the night spent at his side. A pause, before she added slowly, "Not that I'm hungry… As far as food goes, the only kind we both like, is neitherworld candy."

This surprised him, just a little. The broad had a stomach for neitherworld sweets? He wondered if she knew what was in them… "Yeah, well I don't feel like dining out at the moment," He informed her impatiently, dropping back to grab her by the arm, "So we're going back to your place, and you're gonna fix something to eat, got it?"

In the grip of a killer, the girl just lifted an eyebrow, considered him sideways, and smiled. In truth, it made him a little uneasy. "I'm a lousy cook," She informed him matter-of-factly, "But I guess it doesn't matter, since you're going to hate anything we have back there to eat, anyway." A pause. "Does this mean I have permission to use your name? You did say something about breaking me in half if I called you again…"

"Just get it over with, doll." He muttered, more amused by her incorrigibility than he cared to admit. She shrugged, and his name fell from her tongue lightly, once, twice… The tingle down his spine wasn't quite the way he remembered it. Somehow, less intrusive. She gave him a long glance before saying it the third time, sort of a, 'get ready, here it comes!'

They ended up back in what he assumed was the broad's bedroom. When he would have released her, she caught his hand, albeit briefly, and gave it a brief squeeze. Like it was supposed to be familiar, or reassuring, or something. Beetlejuice just frowned, and as she drew away again, followed her out of the room.

"You're going to get blood everywhere." She admonished him gently, giving him a small glance, with soft, dark eyes. "Please clean up. I don't want to explain this to my parents."

"Want me to kill them for you?" He grinned, showing every jagged tooth. The girl didn't even have the decency to look alarmed, just shaking her head absently, as she pulled the fridge open. Not much got to this kid, did it? Well hell, if she really had been hanging around him for… How much time had he forgotten, anyway? "So just how long have you known me, anyway?" He demanded, not a guy used to simply asking nicely.

"Since I was twelve." She answered, from somewhere in the depths of the fridge. "Want me to tell you how we met?" She sure was taking this calmly, wasn't she? He turned it over, then admitted he was curious what kind of encounter would not have ended with her dead, and made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Okay, hold on."

Straightening, she brought out what looked like butter and eggs, and… He didn't really care what. But grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, she started mixing a bunch of stuff together, lifting her gaze only briefly to consider the ghost watching her. "Well, I don't know what was going through your head that night," She said at last, "But we met outside this house. I don't know what you were doing in the living world, and I probably don't want to know."

"All I'm sure of, is that I was in a deep funk, and when I saw you, all decked up in steel and fur, looking like some sort of shadowed demon wolf, I thought, 'oh hell, at least this is gonna be an interesting way to die.'" Her lips curled a little at the memory, her eyes oddly fond. "So I figure, 'how many people get killed by something that doesn't exist… I wonder what it feels like?'"

"And the next thing I know, I'm running my fingers through your fur, and you, looking hella surprised, you change back into a ghost, right while I'm busy petting you." She shook her head slowly. "Maybe it should have scared the hell out of me. I don't know. I just thought that it had to be the coolest thing I'd ever seen. So I ask you what else you can do. I'm not even thinking about dying anymore."

"Before I know it, you've taken like twenty different shapes, each one freakier than the last, and I…" She turned her gaze back to him, her eyes practically glowing at the memory. "I can't take my eyes off you, B." For a moment, this gaze stretched between them, her looking at him like… He didn't even know. Then she was blushing, actually fucking blushing, and looking away. "I don't know, after that you just put up with me, until you seemed to like having me around. That's it."

That was it? Yeah fucking right. But he was reaching his hand out before he knew it, running his fingers through her own silky tresses. For a moment she stiffened, in surprise more than fear, unless he was reading her wrong, but then she seemed to go limp under his touch. A sigh fell from her lips, and she turned into his hand, letting his stained fingers fall across the soft, creamy skin of her cheek, and then her throat.

It was when she opened her eyes again that his touch faltered. She was looking at him that way again. Like someone starved for light, watching the sun rise. It unsettled him, and he drew away. But his fingers burned where he'd touched her… Tingling. Wanting to reach out again.

Damn. And this is me not even able to remember the broad! He grunted in annoyance, slouching against the counter, and pointedly looked anywhere else. Of course, his hand wasn't the only part of him that wanted to reach for her again… "And what's in it for you?" He asked gruffly, inspecting a god awful piece of art on the wall, like it held the meaning to existence. "And what's your name, anyway?"

There was a small pause, then quietly, "Lydia." She didn't answer the first part though, not right away. Instead she turned the stove on, a flare of light and heat, flickering blue. "What should be in it for me? You're my best friend, and… There's a reason I'm wearing your ring."

A sneer crossed his lips, he couldn't help it, what she was suggesting was ridiculous. "So what, we were gonna get married?" He finally composed himself enough to look back at her. "You gonna tell me you love me now, too?"

Lydia hesitated, her hand on the handle of the pan, which had to be growing uncomfortably hot by now. "Yeah," She said slowly, "I do. I love you. And we were going to get married." She lifted her head, and turned to regard him, suddenly sad. "But you don't believe me, do you?"

The really unsettling thing of course, was that he actually did. But there was no way in hell he was going to admit it. "Whatever, doll." He agreed dismissively, once again finding the need to look anywhere but at the girl who'd just told him she loved him. "You'd say just about anything, at this point, with me having no way to know if it's true."

"I hope I'm not like that…" She murmured, more to herself, as she finally poured the batter she'd been mixing, into the hot pan. "Anyway, the one thing I know you like is caramel," This, as far as he knew, was utterly out of nowhere, "So I'm making some caramel swirled pancakes. Which means they're probably going to burn."

Indeed, within seconds, the smell of burning sugar swept through the kitchen, but Beetlejuice just took a deep drink of it through his nose… He loved that smell. Slowly, he turned his attention to the girl cooking, taking in her appearance for the first time. She was a twig, thin as anything, draped in a blood-red poncho, several sizes too big for her. She was wearing baggy black jeans, and her hair, which had probably once been put up nicely, was now sticking out everywhere. Simply put, she was a mess.

But in all honesty, she still looked seriously hot. A small smile played across his face, as he deliberately dismissed any uncertainties he might have held, and focused on the fact that if this chick did figure herself for being in love, there probably wasn't much she wouldn't let him do to her.

He moved up behind her, silently, and snaked his arm around her wait, giving her a good hard squeeze. When she hesitated, he just buried his face in her thick black tresses, and took a deep breath of her scent… God, she was warm, she smelled of sweat and some kind of sweetness, and fuck it felt good when she relaxed slowly into him, letting her body be cupped by his. "B…" She sighed, a soft, mournful, yet somehow beckoning sound, "I don't want to know why you're doing this, do I?"

"Quiet doll, I'm busy." He murmured, moving through the waves of black to her throat, when he dropped a light, lingering kiss. She whimpered, and relaxed against him more, becoming soft, pliant in his arms. He tasted her skin with the tip of his tongue, a mild trace of salt and exhaustion, and something he hadn't expected… An answering desire, in the little moan that followed.

His fingers slid across her stomach, then began fisting up the light poncho, eager to reach the skin beneath. First silk, then sweatshirt… Then she curved under his touch, scalding heat against his deathly cold fingertips, soft as anything as she arched under his hand, another little moan falling from her lips. She turned against him, leaving her cooking where it lay, and lifted her gaze to the hungry poltergeist, her eyes brimming with an answering longing.

Catching her lips, hard, he drew in the taste of her. Her mouth moved against him, and with a flick of his tongue, he laid her open, pressing deeply into the warmth of her, her mouth surrounding him, welcoming him. His hands tightened on her shoulders, not caring when she made a little uncertain sound… But caring very much when she forcibly drew away.

Lydia was staring at him with wide, wondering eyes, her fingers pressed lightly to her sore lips. "You've never-" She began, only to fall silent as he caught her throat lightly, tipping her head up with his thumb, and came in for another kiss, this one no more hesitant than the last.

This time, she made no effort to draw free, and let him break the kiss, in his own good time. She was left blinking, wide eyed, puzzled, looking at him for the first time as if he were a stranger. Beetlejuice just grinned. "You gonna tell me I've never kissed you before, doll?" He drawled slowly, tightening his grip on her, briefly, before letting go. "'Cause it seems if you are wearing my ring and all, that entitles me to certain, privileges… right?"

"Privileges…" She echoed softly, not really seeming to hear the word. "You've just, never kissed me like that before." His eyebrow flew up, questioningly. "You were always gentle… I mean, not gentle, but gentle." Even she seemed to realize how ridiculous this sounded, and shook her head in frustration, trying again. "I mean…"

"If I was ever gentle, about anything," He informed her, in no uncertain terms, "Then being with you must have made me soft, girlie." Not a thought he liked at all, and his frown proved it. For the moment at least, she couldn't seem to look away. "And if you were making me soft, seems to me that now would be a good time to fix that, right?"

No trace of fear formed on her face, but for a moment, she did look sad. "You were only soft for me." She whispered, as if this somehow excused it.

Then her eyes widened, and she suddenly seemed to notice the thick smoke surrounding them both, spinning back to the stove to yank the pan off the burner. Coughing, she shook her head, furious with herself for getting distracted. But how could she not be distracted by Beetlejuice? Especially… Especially when he kissed her like that. With no reluctance, no hesitation… No restraint, whatsoever. It bruised her lips, and god, it took her breath away…

Scraping madly at the blackened sphere in the pan, she cursed herself quietly, using words she'd heard him use before, even if some of them, she didn't know their meaning. He just watched, an amused little twist to his lips. But he was a danger, she knew now. And not just the danger he'd been before. Now he looked at her with hunger, now he wanted her… And she hadn't forgotten his warning. If they were together…

But maybe that didn't matter to him anymore. Maybe he'd take what he could get, damn the consequences to her. So she gritted her teeth, scrubbed at the blackened pan with determination, and under his watching eye, turned back to the stove again, for yet another attempt at caramel pancakes. "As for your privileges," She whispered, trying not to let her throat sound too tear-thick, "You warned me what would happen, if we were together while I was alive. That your power would rip me apart."

Beetlejuice considered her, with a small, disturbing smile. "So would that mean you've never gone all the way, doll?" He asked thickly, making her flinch, for the first time. There was a nail on the head… A low chuckle made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "So what exactly was I planning to do with you, since I was so certain we wouldn't be able to consummate this marriage, Lydia?"

The use of her name, her full name, caught her off guard. Lydia? B had never called her by her full name before… Not that she could remember, anyway. Her heart fell a little, as it sank in yet again that she really had lost him, even if he was standing right there.

"You were going to wait until I was older," She whispered softly, not above recognizing how wrong it was to be explaining her best friend's own past to him, "Until I was ready. Then you were going to kill me. You had it planned out. You were going to make me, perfect, even in death." She slid the spatula under the pancake, mechanically, flipping it over. "That's what you said."

Beetlejuice made a small sound, humor or disgust, she couldn't be certain. "So here I got a girl, hot as hell, crazy about me, and I still can't get any ass!" He muttered, turning away from her, and ducking into her fridge himself. "You got any beer, girlie?"

"In the back." She murmured, flipping the pancake again for good measure. Her fingertips wiped slowly along her cheek, not because she was crying, but because she felt like she should be. With one final flip, the pancake was on a plate, and she handed it to him as he straightened, beer in hand. He barely glanced at her as he took it, and she turned back, ready to make herself one. But if she hadn't been hungry before, she really had no appetite now…

Beetlejuice watched her as she cooked her own meal, picking at his food, which wasn't half as bad as she'd led him to expect. Something seemed, taken out of her. Drained. It annoyed him that, well, that it annoyed him. He didn't like seeing her like this, and hell if he knew why. Maybe some trace of what he had known, like a splinter of glass that some idiot hadn't quite worked free… He certainly couldn't consider that he might actually just be falling for again, for the same reasons he had the first time.

No, he couldn't consider that… And yet he couldn't turn his eyes away as she walked to the kitchen table, sitting down, and then staring at her food like she had no appetite at all. He was gripped with the bizarre urge to say something… Take her mind off whatever was eating her. He walked over to her, a bit reluctantly, and stuck his beer in her face. "You want some?" He snapped, annoyed with himself for giving a damn.

Lydia blinked, looked at the bottle, then smiled slowly. She knew full well that it was an offering between them, and she sure as hell hadn't expected it. She had no reason to. He watched as she took the bottle, then took the tiniest swig possible, doing her best not to make a face. He barked shortly in laughter, claiming it back from her when she offered it. But he didn't say a word.

It seemed like eating was possible now, so she took a bite of her own cooking, and was surprised at the light sweetness of it, with only a mild taste of burning. She still wasn't really hungry, but who knew when the next time was, she might have a chance to spend time with him like this? She should enjoy it while she could.

She only looked up at the sound of a chair dragging out, as he joined her grudgingly at the kitchen table, smirking when he saw the pleased expression this gave her. "So just one more question," He pressed, with thin humor, "You said you loved me… I'll buy that. Did I ever say it back?"

This question caught her off guard, and her immediate answer, the one she would have expected to say, died in her throat, as she tried to remember if he had ever said it. At last, less than happy to admit something she'd honestly never realized, she pressed her lips together, and shook her head slowly. He narrowed his eyes as she didn't meet his gaze for a moment. But she wasn't done just yet.

"You didn't say it," She whispered, something like defeat in her tone, but something doggedly stubborn in as well, "But you know, I never noticed. Because you went out of your way for me all the time, B. Always doing stuff for me. Picking up gifts for me, dancing with me, taking me places… Except when you had business, or I had school, we were pretty much always together."

Her words had become stronger as she said them, and now, finally, she was able to lift her head with a smile. "So you tell me, B… Did you say it?"

If Beetlejuice had an answer for this, he didn't offer it. He just frowned, for a long, long moment… And then without a word of explanation, the dangerous poltergeist smiled, and turned back to his meal. Love. Huh. Who would have figured? Not him, that was for fucking sure…

But hell, he could have done a lot worse, couldn't he?

--------------------------------