Sleeping Beetle

A Beetlejuice fan fiction by Lady Norbert

A/N: Nearing the finish line. And yes, the Godfather is quoting The Godfather again.

Chapter Eighteen: All the Powers of Hell

Mr. Monitor was less than enthused when he learned about the forced evacuation of his employees. Oh, sure, he supposed the reasoning was sound enough, but it was still going to hinder his ability to maintain stellar ratings for the current arc.

"I'd better go down and supervise personally," he said. "You idiots stay here and keep broadcasting."

"Should I send for the car, sir?" wondered one assistant.

"Don't bother. I'll just travel by ripple dissolve, it's faster."

One scene transition later, Monitor found himself greeting the arriving rescue party of Prince Vince and the Fairy Godfather. "Ahahaha... I hadn't expected you to come yourself, Your Highness."

"The most recent Tumblr update was quite heartening," said the prince, his tone relatively benign. "But I wanted to be on hand to be absolutely certain that the extraction goes well, for my own reassurance and for that of Beetlejuice's brother, who has been very anxious about things."

"And I don't think I need to explain my presence," the Godfather added calmly.

"You never explain anything," Mr. Monitor muttered under his breath. More audibly, he continued, "Once I heard about the fire, I wanted to personally oversee the broadcast at the source. You know. Make sure all the details are just right."

"And to see to the safety of your people, I'm sure?"

"Uh... yeah. What you said." The employees in question, minus the two who had elected to remain with the heroes, were milling about the area talking amongst themselves. "Don't just stand there growing mold! Ahahaha! Set up the equipment so we can see what's going on in there!"

It took a little time to adjust the wiring and get a clear picture. "It looks like they're making their way to Vasile's sleeping chamber," said the prince, squinting thoughtfully at the screen. "Who's that with them?"

"That would be Oscar - the warlock," rumbled the Godfather. "He's changed his tune... I should advise him never to take sides against your family again, Your Highness."

"Somehow I don't think it's a warning he's going to need."

Inside the castle, Oscar was doing something with the jar that had once been a door. "Volume!" Mr. Monitor barked. "I can barely hear!"

"Now, Princess," the warlock was saying, "it's really very simple. I've filled this with a dormant flame spell. All you'll need to do is throw it as hard as you can at the vampire's coffin. The glass will shatter, exposing the flame to the air, and things will go up in flame very quickly so you'll need to get out of there as fast as possible. I'd recommend throwing it from the doorway."

"That seems easy enough, I guess," she said doubtfully. "But what if something goes wrong?"

"That's why I'm going with you," Beetlejuice reminded her. "To make sure that nothing does. Here's my question, though, Mr. Warlock - how come Lyds has to be the one to do this? Can't you do it? You sort of owe us, y'know."

"She's the object of his obsession," Oscar pointed out. "Rule of Drama sort of demands that she be the one to do it."

"Yeah, uh, about that," said Lydia. "Why is he fixated on me anyway?"

"Oh - you don't know?" He gave her a sympathetic look. "He wanted you to be the mother of his children."

"He what?" Lydia's face became a mask of horror, and she glanced at her husband for corroboration.

Beetlejuice nodded, scowling. "I found out while I was wandering around invisibly during my weird nap. Wasn't sure if I should tell you."

"I can see why," she said, a little weakly. "He actually expected me to... seriously?"

"Oh yes. It's part of being a strigoi mort," Oscar explained. "If he could persuade a mortal woman to remain with him for seven years, and bear his dhampyr sons, he'd be released from his restrictions - able to go anywhere in the Outerworld and feed on anyone. You were the key to his freedom."

"Well. Glad to know it wasn't personal," she said dryly.

"He's been more than a little threatened by your marriage, obviously. And your pregnancy."

"My - oh. That was a lie so he'd stop offering me wine," Lydia confessed. "I'm not expecting."

"You were wise to keep that from him, then. To judge by some things he said to me, it's probably the only reason he hasn't pressed his 'suit' more urgently." Oscar made a face. "Here's the entrance to his tower, and here I'll leave you. Remember - throw it hard, and run."

"Honestly," Prince Vince remarked, accepting the popcorn that the Fairy Godfather handed him, "I thought she'd be angrier about that particular development."

"It seems as though she's more startled than angry," the Godfather mused. "Or it may be that, in light of what she's about to do, adrenaline is keeping her focus on the task and she'll process the anger later. Or perhaps she's simply too even-tempered to be very angry about it at all."

"Or all three. All things considered, Lydia has encountered far more than her fair share of weirdness over the years. At this point, she's probably developed something of an immunity." The prince ate a handful of popcorn, looking thoughtful. "To some extent, I worry that this might not be healthy. I should hate to think she's been stripped of her sense of wonder."

"Somehow, Your Highness, I think she's just fine," came the sage reply. "I'm very interested to see how this plays out, meanwhile. Vasile has vastly misjudged both of our Avatars, but Lydia in particular." He looked oddly pleased. "Which is as it should be. A friend should always underestimate your virtues and an enemy should always overestimate your faults. In this case, he has clearly overestimated her weakness as a mortal, and it will almost certainly prove his undoing."

Mr. Monitor shrugged, doing his best to keep all four of his expressions pleasant. "All I know is, the ratings have been record-setting. I might even give the writing team a raise if this keeps up. Oh, who am I kidding? Ahahaha!"

The air itself seemed to crackle with tension as Lydia slowly opened the door to the chamber where the strigoi mort slept. "Mm. Nice choice of music," she murmured dryly, noting that the soundtrack had gotten a bit louder and more intense. "Listen, you camera guys had better split."

"We can't leave the equipment," said a muffled voice.

"Mr. Monitor can take it up with us later about a replacement. I'm not throwing this stuff until I know you're out of here."

"Scram," Beetlejuice added. "And those of you watching at home, remember - don't try this yourselves, because I have no idea what we're doing." He glanced at Lydia. "You sure you don't want me to do it? I can get you outside first."

She shook her head. "I can do it."

"I have my doubts. Babes, listen." His expression turned serious. "Assuming the F. G. knows what's what - and let's face it, he usually does - you're the Avatar of Life. You've never killed anything, even if it was already dead, and I really don't think you should start now."

She paused, looking thoughtful. "You really want to do it?"

"Well, I'm the Avatar of Death, ain't I? Maybe this falls under my jurisdiction. Look at it this way - if you do it, it might not even work!"

"You make a pretty good point," she admitted. "All right. But I'm staying with you while you do it." With only some reluctance, she surrendered the jar of magic fire.

"Stay by the door," he directed, "and be ready to run."

"This is getting intense," said the prince, his popcorn somewhat forgotten. The Godfather had pulled up a few armchairs from out of nowhere and they were clustered around the screen, Prince Vince on the edge of his seat. Even Oscar the Warlock had found their group and joined them, watching intently.

Mr. Monitor glared at his two remaining crew members as they approached. "You were supposed to stay there!"

"What, and disobey a royal request?" one of them snarked. "Didn't seem like a good idea, especially with all that fire talk happening."

"Certainly not. Come and have some popcorn," said the Fairy Godfather. Mr. Monitor frowned, wanting to object but not quite daring, and let the matter slide.

"Turn up the volume," he said instead, "and get that escape music queued for the big moment."

"Do you think we need to open the coffin first?" Lydia asked dubiously, studying the infernal box where her would-be captor slumbered.

"Probably best not to - the wood'll help the jar smash." Beetlejuice glanced back at her. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. I mean, I know we have to do this, it's the only way. It's just... disturbing."

"And that's why I said I'd do it. You would hesitate, but I've got zero problem toasting the bastard who was after you. Maybe you'd better send Feathers out, first," he added, gesturing to her little companion. The bird was still clinging precariously to the shoulder of her dress. "Here, lemme open the window. Don't want your tiny protector getting lost in the commotion."

"Good thinking." Lydia crossed the small chamber to where Beetlejuice forced open the only window, and gently removed her avian cling-on. "I want you to fly out there and find someplace safe to land," she said, softly but firmly. "Those two people who were here a minute ago? The ones we sent away? See if you can find them."

The bird uttered a series of chirps which might be taken as a protest. They seemed to mean as much to Lydia, in any case; she shook her head. "I promise, we'll be fine. I'll find you when we come out. Okay?"

Feathers still didn't look convinced, but rubbed its beak against her cheek. Then, with a reluctance that was evident even to someone who didn't speak bird language, it flapped its wings - now free of the bandage Lydia had applied the previous evening, and fully healed - and departed through the open window.

Lydia watched for a moment. "Okay, Beej," she said, turning back to her husband, "let's do this."

"That's my girl. Here we go... it's showtime!"

With all the dramatic flair one might expect from the self-proclaimed Ghost With the Most, Beetlejuice slammed the jar down hard on the heavy wooden lid of Vasile's coffin. It shattered rather spectacularly, and brightly colored flames began to dance across the surface.

"Go! Go!" He rushed across the room, pushing her out the chamber door. From within the coffin, a scream of horror and pain and fury started to grow louder. The castle, apparently responding to its master's unspoken demands, started slamming doors and trying to create obstacles to prevent their escape.

For Vasile, it was too late. The entire chamber was engulfed in a firestorm, and though he forced his way free of the blazing coffin, the magic fire had already started licking at his clothes and hair. He stumbled, trying to reach the window and perhaps fly to freedom, but his every inch was shortly overwhelmed with heat and searing pain. Just before the camera succumbed to its own destruction, it recorded the last few seconds of his diabolical afterlife.

"Look at that!" Mr. Monitor crowed, jabbing one chubby finger at the screen. With a final desperate howl, Vasile's charred body burst into a thousand cinders, spilling across the stone floor of his sleeping chamber. Less than a moment later, the camera itself apparently melted, and the picture likewise turned to ash. "Blast it! Now how are we supposed to record the thrilling escape? All of you, get the other cameras going! Surround the castle! I want the fire recorded from every possible angle!"

"They... they will get out, won't they?" Prince Vince asked the Fairy Godfather, sounding worried.

"I should think so... but that fire does seem to be spreading quickly." The Godfather frowned, squinting at the building. "You there! Warlock! How long will it take the castle to burn?"

"It should be dust within minutes, sir." Oscar groveled a little. "Not long at all."

"But will that be long enough?" the prince wondered. He glanced up and saw a small brown figure circling overhead. "Look! Feathers found us! Let's hope that bodes well for his mistress."