Cinderjuice

A Beetlejuice fanfic by Lady Norbert

Author's Notes: In case it's not clear, I keep calling him BJ instead of Beetlejuice in the narrative because that's the form he's in - BJ is the human body.

He's an irritable spook right now. And something's about to happen that won't necessarily improve his mood.

Chapter Eight: Going Round in Circles

It didn't escape Lydia's notice that the prince had found an excuse to get her out of earshot, and pretty quickly too. It was a good and reasonable excuse, to be sure, but she wasn't born yesterday. Nor could she fail to recognize that when BJ met her at the car a short time later, he was even more subdued than he'd already been. Closing the trunk on the last of what supplies Prince Vince could provide, she brushed her hands together. "Where do we go from here? We need a plan."

"I dunno, Lyds. This whole thing has me so bummed out, I can't think straight." He scowled. "Give up your powers, they said. It'll be fun, they said."

"If I'd known what was going to happen, I never would have asked..."

"Not blaming you, Babes."

"I know you're not. But I'm kind of blaming me."

"Well, don't," he said, and his tone was unusually sharp. "Let's get back to the Roadhouse. I need to talk to Jacques before we go on the lam."

"Zut alors," Jacques said solemnly, once BJ outlined the basics for him. "I 'ad no idea things would turn out like zees!"

"It's not your fault, Jacques," Lydia assured him quickly. "You were just trying to help. But we need your help again now."

"Of course!"

"The Fairy Godfather is possibly going to be looking for us. Least, that's the worst case scenario. So we've got to disappear for a while," BJ muttered. "You hold down the fort here in the meantime. Anyone comes asking about either of us, play dumb."

"And take care of Pinky," Lydia added. "Doomie's trying to explain things to her in a way she'll understand, but I know she's going to miss him."

"Mais oui, the little pink car will be safe. But where will you go?"

"You're better off if we don't tell you." BJ was still grumbling. "Come on, Lyds, let's hit the road."

They left the anxious skeleton and returned to Doomie, where he was bidding Pinky an emotional farewell. "No, she can't come with us," BJ groused, climbing into the passenger seat.

"He knows that," Lydia said. His attitude was starting to get to her. "Look, I know you're angry, BJ, and I don't blame you. But we'll figure something out, I know we will."

"Like where to hide until we figure out what the heck we're doing? That's probably got to be the first thing we tackle."

"I had some thoughts about that," she said. "Remember how you were telling my friends at the prom about our 'Wild West trip'? Maybe we could go back to Tombstone."

He perked up slightly. "Those jerks do kinda owe us a favor for getting rid of Bully the Crud," he reasoned. "It's a start, I guess. Good thinkin', Lyds."

"We can hide out there for a few days, anyway, and work on coming up with a plan. Can you make it that far, Doomie?"

"Meep meep!" It was as determined a sound as a car could make.

The dishonorable mayor of Tombstone, Scarizona was a little reluctant to admit he remembered the Bully the Crud incident. "Well, I guess it rings a bell," he said finally. "But you two sure don't look familiar."

"That happened several years ago!" Lydia protested. "I grew up!"

"And your friend? What happened to him?"

"Eh... long story."

"Look," BJ interrupted, "we just need to lay low for a couple of days and figure out where we're headed next. You owe us, and you know it. Are we going to get some help here, or do I have to drag my slime-shooters out of retirement?"

"All right, all right." The mayor huffed. "We built an inn here a few years back, down at the far end of the street. Stash your fancy wheels out back and tell the landlady I sent you."

"That's more like it."

Once Doomie was reasonably out of sight, Lydia took the pack of supplies from the trunk and followed BJ down the street. He walked with a hunch, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes, and only once thought to look back to make sure she was keeping pace with him. What was bothering him so much? And why wouldn't he tell her about it? At least once they reached the inn he held the door for her; it eased her annoyance, somewhat.

The proprietess of the establishment was a tawny leonine woman, whose figure was outlined in muslin and crinoline. She introduced herself as Miss Kitty Litter. "Friends of the mayor, hmm? We've got accommodations which are simply purrfect for a pair of travelers passing through Tombstone," she said. "Follow me."

Lydia wasn't quite sure what to expect. Given that all of the other buildings in the town amounted to facades propped up by wooden beams, it hardly seemed likely that there'd be actual rooms in the inn. But to her surprise, they were shown into a small, relatively private chamber, with walls and doors and windows and even a ceiling. It was sparsely furnished - a rickety chair, a low table, and a moth-eaten bed were all that filled the space - but under the circumstances, she figured she couldn't complain.

"There's a bell pull on the wall if you need anything," Miss Kitty said, scratching behind one ear. "I'll leave you to it. You be good to her, y'hear?" she added, lashing BJ lightly with her tail before swishing out and closing the door behind her.

"I don't even want to know what that was supposed to mean," Lydia decided, sitting down gingerly. The chair seemed inclined to hold her weight, so she relaxed a little. BJ didn't; he stood near the window, peering through the curtain almost suspiciously.

"I guess we're safe enough for the moment," he said at length. "Did Prince Vince happen to send along anything for us to eat? I don't think I've actually eaten anything since that meal at the prom." He sighed. "I just can't bring myself to eat any bugs, and it's driving me mental."

"There isn't much. His larder mostly had Neitherworld cuisine, and that's not good for either of us right now," she said, rooting through the pack. "But thanks to his internet hobby, he's started taking a little interest in Outerworld food. Here." She located a box of Pocky. "It's something, at least. Wonder where he gets them."

"Scamazon dot com, I'd guess. Those drones deliver anywhere." He accepted the chocolate-dipped treat and leaned against the window frame, arms folded, with the cookie stick clenched between his teeth like a long blade of grass.

"Speaking of Prince Vince," Lydia said carefully, not wanting to increase his agitation, "what else did he tell you? After I left the room, I mean. You were alone together for a while."

"More of the same stuff you heard. He'll help if he can, but I've made some powerful enemies, the Fairy Godfather'll chase me to the ends of the Neitherworld if I don't back off, blah blah blah."

"That's all?"

"What, that's not enough?" He glanced at her briefly.

"No, of course it is, it's just..." She was cut off abruptly by someone shouting out in the corridor.

"Beetlejuice!"

"Hold that thought, Lyds." He held up a hand, chewing and swallowing the Pocky and moving to the door. "Who even knows we're here?"

"Beetlejuice, where are you?" called the voice.

"Whoever it is, they sound familiar," she said. "Wait, isn't that the mayor's wormy little sidekick? You remember the one?"

"Yeah... maybe you're right." He opened the door a few inches, peering into the hall. "Yo, Festivus, in here."

"It's Festus!"

"Whatever. Quit yelling my name, we're laying low."

"Well, ya ain't laid low enough! There's a stranger come into town, says he's a-lookin' fer ya!"

Lydia jumped to her feet, moving to BJ's side. "That didn't take long. Who is it? What did he say he wants?"

"Only that he's a-lookin' fer Beetlejuice, an' he knows we've got 'im here!"

"What do we do?" she asked, looking up at him.

But before he could answer, another new voice was heard. From the street below, the words were shouted up to the window.

"I know you're up there, Beetlejuice! Come down here!"