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, um… I'm not gonna call it smut, because it's not descriptive enough, I don't think. But it is what it is. And I'm not gonna explain how there could be smut, with the warning he gave her. You're just gonna have to read it. I almost didn't get anything up today, I have honestly tried my best, and my brain feels more than a little fried. That warning given… :) Enjoy. It had to happen sometime… He is definitely not thinking of her as a twelve year old girl, anymore. But you already knew that… right?

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

The girl was stubborn. She hadn't gone back to the living world when the sun rose, not this time. Presumably she could do that on her own. Instead she walked along beside him with a sort of casual air, as if they were simply going on a pleasure walk, her eyes fixed absently before her. He wasn't sure she noticed when her hand, on reflex, closed around his. He didn't mind though. It wasn't so bad.

Their sides actually almost brushed, she walked so closely to him, her gaze lidded against the neitherworld gloom, an odd little half smile formed on her lips. Nothing shook her for long, apparently. She still waited outside the door while he asked his questions, but when he emerged, she greeted him with a tolerant little look of amusement, as if simply determined that nothing the poltergeist could do, would faze her anymore.

She was still wearing the little school-girl uniform from the day before, with its swaying checkered shirt, and thing white blouse, barely concealed beneath the poncho she always seemed determined to hide herself under. All of these were specked with blood now, but he couldn't really be sure if she'd noticed. She gave no sign. There were smears of ash and grime on her cheeks as well… She looked like a neitherworld street kid, like he'd been once. Only with any haunted, furtive, or hardened shadows to her eyes. She seemed positively, light hearted. And it made no sense at all.

Lydia came to a stop beside him at that moment though, catching her reflection in a pane glass window, and made a little unhappy sound with her tongue. "God, I need a shower!" She informed no one at all, running her fingers through her hair, a wry twist to her pretty mouth. She said nothing, he noted, of him needing one, despite the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd bathed.

"B…" Her eyes turned to him, and he saw that for a moment, she'd forgotten the distance between them. Forgotten that he'd forgotten. "I'm running on empty here. All I've eaten in days is a pancake, I haven't bathed since this started, and my teeth feel really gross right now." A small pause. "Is it okay if I head back for a while?"

His lips turned down a little, not because he cared either way, but because she seemed to be looking for his blessing. "You think I care?" He pointed out bluntly, only to see her, not quite wince, but more fold into herself a little, as if, oh yeah, now she remembered. "Seems like you know how to find me, right? And I knowwhere to find you…" He didn't point out that she'd really just been holding him back, since if that had meant a damn thing to him, he would have chased her off hours ago. He could afford to take his time.

"Yeah…" She managed a smile, and oddly enough, it seemed genuine, even fond. "Guess there's no running from the ghost with the most, right?" Her eyes gleamed, and a strange little laugh fell from her lips, unnerving him a little. "Not that I've ever tried, but… That's what I'm counting on."

She shoved her careless hair back from her face, considered him with a tilt of her head, and a little purse to her lips. "This is where I'd usually squeeze you until you squeezed me back, but…" There was, he noted, a trace of regret to this. "I don't know, maybe I shouldn't push my luck."

Then she was saying his name, which made him frown again, wondering what she was up to this time. Not calling him with her… She was gone as the last sound left her lips, and his eyebrows flew up in surprise. Apparently there was a hell of a lot to this whole name thing, that he'd never quite caught on to.

Beetlejuice considered the spot where she'd been only a moment before, his brow furrowed a little. "Broad didn't even invite me to go with her." He grumbled, wondering if he should feel slighted. If she was taking a shower, hell, maybe he wanted to watch! He spent a pleasant few moments musing on what she looked like, under all those layers she always wore…

Wait, what the hell was he doing, just standing here thinking about it? The girl was his, right? A crooked grin spread across his face, and before he could change his mind, he was following the girl. If he hurried, he might get to see her all steamy and dripping… That had to be worth getting a few locks reset!

He found himself in her room, and pondered briefly on the layout of her house, before emerging from the door, instantly hit by the sound of running water. His eyes narrowed, wondering if she'd be surprised, the poltergeist found himself rather hoping she was.

Of course he could have just drifted right clean through the door, but instead he turned the knob, giving her warning that he was coming in. A little sound of question came from behind the translucent curtain, and her head poked out, dark hair plastered to her face, puffy mounds of shampoo noticeable here and there. She made another small sound, this one of uncertainty. "B?"

"Don't mind me," He chuckled, leaning back against the sink, crossing his ankles, "You just keep doing what you're doing. Just, shift that curtain a little, all right? I want a better idea what I'm getting myself into…"

Lydia blushed, and ducked behind the sheer plastic thing like it could hide her from his prying eyes. He smirked, well able to make out her supple form through the curtain, but not nearly content with that. Hell, he wakes up one day, finds out he has a girl crazy about him, wearing his ring, and a ghost isn't expected to take advantage of the situation? She must be thinking about some other dead guy…

He took a deep drink through his nose of the scented steam filling the bathroom… Already he could tell it smelled like her. Like pumpkins and cloves, and something vaguely feral. He was content waiting for her to take her shower in privacy… She had to come out sometime. "So doll…" He began, only to be cut off by the girl currently trying not to be seen.

"Babes." She corrected him, a little tensely. His eyebrows flew up, and he made a small, questioning sound. "You always called me babes, or Lyds. Never doll, or girlie, or…" A small pause. "You definitely never called me Lydia."

"Whatever." He waved this away, uninterested. "Fine. Babes… What makes a little breather like you fall for a guy like me? You had to have an idea the kind of shit I get into… I'm dead, for god sakes, which would turn a lot of living broads off… And you? You're a hot-looking chick, even by living standards. I ever tell you that?"

A hesitation, and then slowly, Lydia peered out from behind the curtain again. "No." She admitted softly. "You kinda… still treated me like a kid, most of the time."

Beetlejuice just grinned. "Well hell, girlie, I can see you're no kid now." His eyes, dark with something she'd only seen there a time or two before, gave her the impression of no curtain being between them at all… Of nothing being between them at all, not even distance. Like he was running his hands up and down her slick bare form, even as he stood seven feet away, not making a move in her direction.

It made her whole body tingle, and she had to close her eyes against him, drawing back into the imagined safety of the shower, suppressing a shiver. She had to go out there soon, and she had the feeling he wasn't just going to retreat politely, and let her get dressed. Why was that different now? She'd dressed in front of him plenty of times… Well, in her bra and panties, but still!

But this wasn't the same guy she'd known. It was like a whole other Beetlejuice, that swept in, and seemed to have every intention of having his way with her, while the Beetlejuice she loved was missing. And of course, there was that whole, worst possible death thing…

"You should go, B." She whispered, not sure he'd hear her over the sound of the water, not sure she wanted him to hear. "You know it's just gonna…"

"Gonna what, doll?" He prompted thickly. Anger rose in her, frustration, helplessness. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Everything had been perfect, going according to some kind of plan, even if it wasn't her plan. She'd been going to spend eternity with her best friend. Someone that could make her blush from head to toe with a single glance.

But as quickly as any sense of defiance rose against the ghost waiting even then for her, it vanished, as she realized that her Beetlejuice or not, that was still him out there, in every way but one. True, he didn't love her. But he was already starting to care about her. And the grim truth was, she didn't know if she'd ever get her friend back, the way he was before.

Despite this, he was standing there, not more than a few feet away, waiting for her. Her fingers closed on the plastic curtain, her eyes opening again, gazing at the steam that swirled and whipped around her. She still had her best friend. Sort of. Maybe, she really could make him love her again. Because god knew she still loved him…

"B?" It was more a whisper than a question. "Can I keep you? Even if you don't remember me?" She didn't expect him to hear, much less answer, but the very question itself made her smile. She'd seen him at his worst now, presumably. She'd been in danger from his hand herself. He didn't even remember her. And she still didn't want to give him up for anything.

A silence, that could have meant he didn't hear her, or could have meant he did. "Say that again, doll?" He prompted after a moment, suggesting that he'd heard something, anyway.

Lydia shut off the water, and pulled back the curtain, trying not to blush as his gaze immediately became more interested. "Will you keep me?" She asked instead, decided that this was after all, what she really wanted to know. He smirked a little, but didn't answer. All she could do was brush the dripping hair from her face, and a moment later, reach for a towel, deciding he probably wasn't going to.

But he caught her from behind as she went to cover herself, his arm around her waist, fingers fanning slowly against her thigh, as his lips dropped to her ear with a whisper. "Somehow, I expected you to put up more of a fuss than that."

She was burning at his light caresses, her head dizzy, her eyes fluttering closed to concentrate on his seducing touch. B had never touched her like this before. Not even Valentine's Night, and the dance that had left her with so many questions. She bit her lip lightly as his mouth sought her soft throat hungrily, a low rumble building in his chest.

"You want me to keep you, babes?" He murmured huskily, tightening his grip on her, just a little. "Show me why I should."

Lydia wanted to protest, she knew she should protest, but all that escaped from her lips was a little moan of surrender, as his hands greedily claimed the soft curves of her, lingering each time where it flooded her head the most. Silky hairs parted to his fingers to reveal hot flesh, as his lips in turn bit and nibbled the nape of her neck, nothing restrained in his demands now. And somewhere in the back of her mind, some trace of common sense that remained, screaming danger…

"B- B…" It was a whimper, and she was surprised she had enough control left for this, doing her best to push his hands away, when losing his touch was the last thing she wanted. "You promised…" It wasn't entirely true, but gods help her, she didn't know what else to say. "You're not supposed to hurt me. You said…"

A low chuckle interrupted her plea. "I ain't gonna lose control of my powers, doll. I got something else in mind for you, right now." His voice dropped to a rich, low rasp, his breath a cool kiss against her flushed skin. "Just calm down… You know I got too many plans for you, to screw it up now."

"Still?" She whispered, not even trying to keep the warmth of hope from her voice.

"Course, babes." He murmured, the breath hissing from between his teeth. "You and me? Far as I'm concerned, we're just getting started. And we got a hell of a lot of time to make up. That being said…" He caught her firmly by the waist, lifting her into the air, and set her easily on the cold porcelain sink, a low chuckle in his throat. "You trust me, right?" His dangerous eyes gleamed.

It was a loaded question, and she was all too aware of it. She trusted him without question, without doubt… As he had been. But now? She searched his features for some sign of the ghost she'd known, her best friend. The man she loved. And it was him. And god help her, with her mind in such a delicious haze, she just couldn't understand the difference. "Yes." She whispered, resigning herself in one instant to whatever he had planned, and for one instant, honestly unafraid.

"I ain't gonna let you regret it, doll." He purred throatily, sliding his fingers between her thighs, and pulling them apart. "Now you just sit there and relax… I'm gonna take care of everything."

It made no sense to her… He couldn't be getting anything out of this. But she just closed her eyes, winding her fingers tightly through his hair, and wondered for one brief, wild second, what the hell she was getting herself into. Then she felt his tongue, cool, wet, coaxing, against tense flesh, and a sound of surprise escaped her. She didn't know what she'd been expecting… But nothing that felt like that!

Warmth blossomed in counterpoint to his cool touch, as he tasted her, caressed her, his fingers tightening on her thighs until it hurt, and she honestly didn't care. He used his lips, those lips she'd tasted a hundred times, and never known what they could do… His breath fell against her, and when she could only squirm in response, a low moan falling from her lips, he just laughed.

This was what he wanted, some sane part of her suddenly realized, he wanted to make her crazy. He wanted her to surrender control to him, and be driven by him to depths she couldn't have imagined, and then… Then she'd be even more his than she was now. She knew it, rationally, for one instant, and then she didn't care.

Long, slow strokes of his mouth, as she continued to heat beneath him. His fingers would probably leave bruises on her legs, as he fought to control his own lust, and it didn't matter. Her whole world pounding to the beat of her pulse, which even now was ripping its way through every vulnerable part of her body, filling her head with its song, as he pushed her closer and closer to madness.

There was one, brief moment, where she faltered. Where she remembered that it wasn't him, the him that she'd known so long, the him that loved her. And then the pressure in her loins returned with a rush, too quickly to even think about refusing it, and her head fell back with an almost silent gasp. She was left trembling, vulnerable and raw, and she closed her eyes as he still didn't relent, drawing every last wave of pleasure from her treacherous body that he could, before she simply fell forward, folding into his arms, her bare body small and helpless against the strength of him. And he held her like a thought, a small smirk curling his lips when she lifted her eyes to him…

But there was something else there too, in his eyes. More intense than before. And she felt one wild surge of fear, as she realized how much more he wanted her now, than he had before. How little was standing between him, and his taking his own wild pleasure out on her. Some hair thin thread that didn't seem strong enough to hold them apart.

And yet he just reached out, touching her hair so gently, that self satisfied smile still in place, as he took in the flush of her cheeks, the glow in her eyes. It was a stranger looking at her, and yet she swore she saw something of the ghost she knew in those eyes… She swore, and just tucked herself into his embrace, surrendering to him completely, her cheek supported in the groove of his shoulder.

"Now what was that you said," He whispered, a gravelly tease to the words, "About keeping me?"

Lydia drew in a slow breath, filling herself with the scent of him, tinged on all sides by the scent of her own body's pleasure, and closed her eyes, whispering softly, "Can I keep you?"

But once again, Beetlejuice just chuckled softly, and didn't answer.

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

She couldn't look at him without blushing. And she couldn't stop looking at him. It was ridiculous.

It was maybe even more ridiculous that they were sitting there in her parents' living room, she'd never thought of it as her own, the ghost with the most lounged across her father's chair like he owned it, flipping through channel after channel with the remote. He never stayed for long on one program, ever the short attention span, but this was the first time she'd ever seen him watch television. It was so utterly normal, that it was bizarre.

Of course, the truth was that Beetlejuice wasn't really watching tv at all, he was just killing time until his next 'appointment,' and trying to get his mind off how good the girl watching him had felt under his touch. He knew where that feral scent came from now, because that was how she'd tasted. Feral. Wild. And he shifted, again and again, trying to get comfortable, as the memories bombarded him without mercy. God, that girl was already getting under his skin… And he didn't even know if that bothered him, or not.

No wonder the broad had me tied up in knots, he grunted to himself, finally flipping the television off, and throwing the remote to his apparent fiance. Gotta be careful with that one… Of course then he made the mistake of looking at her again, and immediately a slow blush grew across her face, warmth and adoration positively pouring off her smile, her eyes suddenly shy. And god help him if it didn't make his own lips twist in a smile…

She was his now, forget who he'd been before, the girl belonged to him, the way he was now. He was sure of it. That had been the whole idea of course. It was all unfolding pretty clearly now… He did want to keep her, just as she'd said. For a while anyway. And he sure as hell wasn't content to sit around and wait to find his memories, before he coaxed her to the next level. The problem with that of course, being… He'd have to kill her. Just the once, but it couldn't be helped.

Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't been planning to do it before, right? She even said so. He'd have to get more details about what exactly he'd had in mind… But whenever he did it, he knew that was the moment he'd seem to make himself vulnerable enough for his mysterious enemy to strike. And that was when he had to strike back, hard. He'd only get one chance. But as far as he was concerned, that was as good a reason to kill her as any other.

Too bad, he mused lazily, stretching out in the comfortable chair, kid had her whole life ahead of her. Oh well. He refused to acknowledge the little niggling distaste at the idea of making that warm flesh grow cold. It was necessary. And the girl didn't even care. He tried to remember if she'd actually said so, then dismissed the very question angrily. What did it matter, anyway?

Lydia wasn't certain why his face had suddenly turned sour, and reacted pretty much without thinking, standing and moving over to his side to offer comfort. Her fingertips dropped to his roughly shaven jaw, and he blinked, then looked at her with a frown. She didn't care. She was over being scared of him. Her touch slid to the back of his neck, and she moved into place behind him, giving a light, lingering squeeze.

For just an instant, he tensed under her touch, but as the gesture was repeated, and repeated again, he slowly relaxed, apparently deciding that it didn't feel half bad. Her thumbs stroked the ridges of his spine, the rest of her hand applying gentle, stroking pressure to the stiff muscles under her palm. "You never answered my question." She pointed out quietly, not willing to ruin the mood, but still wanting an answer.

"What question was that, babes?" He muttered, a little annoyed to have his massage interrupted. But the simple fact that he'd called her 'babes,' the way he used to, made her press on.

"Will you keep me?" She whispered, dropping her face to almost within an inch of his neck as she asked him. His skin twitched under the warm breath, and he tensed again, just a little, before relaxing with a chuckle.

"Sure, doll." He agreed, a trace of humor to the words. "Can't say one of us won't change their minds… I ain't certain it won't be you. But I see no problem with it."

Lydia rolled her eyes, and gave him a little push, drawing away from him. "'Keep,' is supposed to mean forever." She pointed out dryly, while he frowned in her general direction, trying not to smile. She wanted forever? Hell, the girl had no idea what she was getting into. She was what, seventeen? At the most? Yeah, she had a real good grasp of how long forever was…

He kicked the recliner down, and without rising to her bait, pulled himself to his feet with a slow stretch. "I'm outta here." He informed her bluntly. "Keep in touch, doll. You got that nice big mirror in there… Don't come looking for me this time." This last was with a distinct sense of warning, as he eyed her significantly. "I'm gonna be dealing with some nasty business, and a breather like you might just get snuffed out in the process. Got it?"

Lydia considered him, he looked openly hostile, as if daring her to argue with him on it. But all she said was, "Still protecting me, B?" Very softly.

"You're mine, Lydia." He growled quietly. "We both figure that one, right? Well if you're gonna die, it's not because some clueless lackey got in a lucky shot… It's gonna be me that does it, just like we planned. And I'm gonna make sure to do it right."

There wasn't really a ready answer to a statement like this, all she could do was purse her lips, nod, and wonder what a sane person would say about such a statement from a guy. Maybe she was as crazy as he was… And maybe, it didn't matter either way. "Don't be gone too long?" She murmured, moving close enough to him to plant a light kiss on his cool cheek.

He just looked at her oddly, shook his head, and was gone. As the neitherworld formed around him, he rubbed the back of his neck, considered his surroundings, and shrugged. Fact was, he needed to get away from her for a while, before she started messing with his head, as bad as she apparently had before. And in the meantime…

Beetlejuice pulled a crumpled up piece of paper out of his pocket, smoothing it against a twisted looking lamppost, and narrowed his eyes at the scrawl crossing its face. It was a list of names, several with a thick bold line already drawn across their face. He was running out of people to question…

For the first time, it occurred to him that he just might not fucking find whoever stole his memories. If he ran out of leads after all, what was left? Just drawing them into the open, by making it seem like the right time to give him back what was his… And hell if he wanted to play this by their game.

But there were still a few names left on his list. Hell, maybe a few people he hadn't thought to add. He wasn't out of options yet. He drew a blood whip out of his pocket, sucked on the sugary end, and narrowed his gaze at the sky. Time to get creative.

And the ghost with the most was nothing, he thought with a chuckle, if not creative…

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