Sleeping Beetle

A Beetlejuice fan fiction by Lady Norbert

A/N: I'm really glad that so many of you like where this is going! I was honestly concerned that I wasn't explaining anything very well.

In the words of one of my betas, the plot is starting to catch up with our heroes and they need to walk faster.

Chapter Five: No More, No Less

A day or so later, they were back in the Outerworld, and BJ was back at work exterminating (that is to say, digesting) insects for the locals. Trust Lyds to come up with a form of employment that he actually enjoyed - sure, sometimes he got called out for a job at odd hours, but his methods of insect removal were invariably successful and, according to the wife, Beetleman's Bug Bouncers had an excellent reputation on something called Yipe. Or maybe it was Gulp? Something like that. He didn't really know, or care very much, what that meant as long as he kept getting work out of it.

When he was at home he liked to occupy himself with odd projects around the farm, which had since been stripped of all its Halloween décor. He'd already constructed a little two-car garage, designed to look like the house and occupying the spot where the farm's barn had once stood, so that Doomie and Pinky didn't have to be left in the Neitherworld. Pinky didn't usually get too upset as long as Doomie was with her; placid little convertible, really. But Doomie had a tendency to pine, especially for his 'mother.'

(Jacques had looked entirely too pleased with his own cleverness the day he commented that "Ze cars, zey are so much like Lydia and Be-attle-juice! Pinky, she is calm and collected, but Doomie, 'e goes to pieces if 'e goes too long without seeing Lydia!" Eh, who asked him?)

BJ's latest clever idea for home improvement was to set up a little deck of sorts on the roof of the garage, with the idea that he would get Lydia a telescope for Christmas. He'd found out that some models came with camera mounts, for photographing the stars and whatnot, and he figured she could get plenty of use out of such a thing. Yeah, okay, he tended to spoil her a little. Honestly, if he got much sappier he was going to turn into a tree. But if she smiled, it was worth it.

Building projects hardly took him much time under normal circumstances, what with his ability to replicate himself at will. In this case, however, he was moving slowly because it gave him time to think, and thanks to the Fairy Godfather's recent revelations, he certainly had enough to contemplate. He moved the cars outside, so they wouldn't get sawdust in their engines, and worked in quiet solitude so he could hear his own thoughts.

As a general rule, Beetlejuice could handle weirdness. After all, you just didn't last multiple centuries in the Neitherworld, which was itself at least partially powered by nonsensoleum, without developing a tolerance. And when you yourself were truthfully responsible for more than your fair share of the weirdness, you couldn't help but accept it.

This was different. This was so much more than weird. Really, he didn't have a word for what this was, and he knew a lot of words. (People often thought he was stupid, a misconception he frequently encouraged because it usually led them to underestimate him. That by itself should have been a hint as to just how stupid he wasn't, really, but only a few ever seemed to figure it out.)

He shook his head; his train of thought was derailing. "All right, so - Avatar of Death," he muttered, hammering a nail into a step on the staircase leading up to the deck. "Let's try to sort this out."

So he wasn't the average, run-of-the-mill dead guy. Not exactly news, in and of itself. But the Avatar of Death? What did that even mean? Did he have to start dressing up as the Grim Reaper, and walk around telling humans it was their time to die? That might be fun for a while, but he was pretty sure it would get old real fast. And anyway, the possibility of him doing such a thing only raised more questions, because what would it mean for Lyds as the Avatar of Life? That she was a walking pregnancy detector? Again, funny in concept, probably rather annoying in practice.

No, the Fairy Godfather had made it sound like the whole thing was mostly symbolic. Like they were just representing the ideas of Life and Death. That didn't seem too terrible. It even made sense in a way, because deep down he was secretly surprised that a (mostly) dead guy had been allowed to bond with, and marry, a (mostly) living girl. But if the powers that be had intended them to be this all along, then of course they would allow it.

He cut and sanded another board to serve as the next step, the thoughts still rolling around in his head. So if it was their intention that this would be the case, then the powers that be (whoever they were) also must intend, or expect, or at least hope that there'd be a child out of all this. No wonder Lydia had seemed so confused - was that even possible? Presumably yes, or he doubted the Fairy Godfather would have even mentioned it. As a general rule, the guy seemed to know what was what.

A father. Him, the Ghost With the Most, a father. This could be fun or this could be terrifying; probably both at the same time. He started to laugh, very quietly and very wickedly.

"They expect us to have a kid, do they?" he muttered. "Oh, that's going to be a lot of fun... for me. Everyone else? Probably not so much. My son'll be ten times the ghoul I ever was!"

Of course, there was one major flaw in that line of thinking: his son would also be Lydia's son. She'd always had a calming influence on him, which had a lot to do with why he tended to scream her name anytime he was in trouble or freaked out. Likely she would do the same for their little monstrosity.

She was preparing the photos to send to the magazine when he finally talked to her about it a day or so later. The write-up about the Halloween extravaganza was printing, and she was sealing photographs into little protective sleeves before putting them into a large envelope. He bobbed about in midair, watching her.

"So whaddya think about us having a kid?"

Her reaction was so beautifully choreographed that he sort of regretted not waiting until she was in the middle of drinking something. Everything in her hands immediately spilled onto the floor, and she started at him in bewilderment. "You want to run that by me again?" she managed, even as he dropped down to help her scoop up the mess.

"Heh. Sorry. I've been thinking about everything the Fairy Godfather dropped on us the other day," he clarified.

"Oh." Her expression cleared. "Context is important, Beej."

"I mean - I guess that's the long-range plan, right? We have a kid, he saves the world or tears it to pieces."

"That's the way it sounded. Of course, we don't know what world it actually meant - or how many kids there are, or what the circumstances would be that would cause such a thing." She resumed her seat and went back to work.

"Well, what do you think about it?"

"I think we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she replied brightly. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking my kid'll be an even bigger pain in everybody's collective ass than I ever was. And I can't wait to see it."

She gave him a look which seemed to convey multiple things; he was only sure of the amusement. "With you as his father, that's a strong possibility. But I would hope that, as his mother, I could potentially counterbalance that."

"Probably. You'd make a great mom," he said. Not something he'd normally say; he avoided blunt honesty like most people avoided the plague. But it was Lyds.

"You think?" She smiled. "I think you might do all right as a dad, too. You have a pretty good one yourself, so it's not like you lack for a role model. Your parents would probably be so excited, it would be adorable."

"Yecch," he replied, though his tone was amiable. "And I don't even want to picture Donny's reaction." He morphed his head briefly into a replica of his brother. "Oh, happy day! I'm gonna be an uncle! Oh, I can't wait to teach the li'l fella how to play baseball and climb trees and help old ladies cross the street!"

Lydia burst out laughing as he resumed his usual appearance. "You're terrible," she said, "but accurate."

Beetlejuice grinned at her, watching as she finished assembling the package and sealed it. "Yeah, well, your brother'll have a field day himself. Probably declare another national holiday and have somebody build the kid a jeweled crib."

"No argument. But this is all premature speculation, you know," she said, adding postage to her envelope.

"Hmm, true. Kinda fun though."

"It is."

They set aside the Baby Juice discussion for the time being, and Beetlejuice reasoned that they'd pick it up again once there was an actual need to revisit the subject. He finished the observation deck on the garage shortly before Thanksgiving, which was spent with Chuckles and Delia, and his in-laws sent them home with the turkey's wishbone to dry out and break. Truthfully, he didn't know what to wish for; it seemed like a silly tradition to him, since his magic could render most wishes accessible at the drop of a hat. But it wasn't like they knew that, so he just went along with it.

In the middle of December, he and Doomie went to pick up Lydia's telescope and hide it at her parents' house until Christmas Day. He returned in time to bring in the mail, which - to his surprise - included an envelope from Terricula magazine. "Hey, Babes!" he called, entering the farmhouse. "Looks like you got something!"

"Huh?" She scuttled down the stairs, and her eyes widened as she accepted the envelope and saw the return address. "Oh, let's see..." She tore into it, and as she read the letter it contained, a smile spread over her face. "Beej, they bought it! They accepted my story about our haunted fundraiser!"

"Why are you surprised? It was brilliant."

"Flatterer." She chuckled, then broke off as she saw the rest of the contents. "What's... wow. They're... they're offering me an assignment. An actual paying assignment!"

"No kidding?" He moved behind her and put his chin on her shoulder to read for himself. "Transylvania? Are they having you on?"

"They want me to go to some castle outside Transylvania and investigate whether it's really haunted - a photo essay, like the one I sent them." She sounded mystified and he couldn't blame her.

"No offense, Lyds, but who gives an assignment like that? I mean, that's a huge deal."

"Apparently no one else is willing to get near the place," she said thoughtfully, perusing the details, "and that just makes them want the scoop all the more. Why they think I'm willing to get near it, I'm not sure - it's an offer, of course, I can turn it down if I want."

"So what do you wanna do?" He tilted his head to sort of look at her. "I mean, if you wanna go, we'll go - but no way you're going alone."

"I wouldn't want to go without you anyway. Who goes to a haunted castle and doesn't bring her favorite ghost?"

Beetlejuice cracked a smile. "Nobody I know."