Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Sorry I'm late," Lydia told her friends as she reached their usual table in the cafeteria. "We had a quick yearbook meeting after last period." She flashed them a smile. "It's a bigger project than doing the yearbook at Miss Shannon's ever was. I don't envy the editor."

"They're lucky to have you taking pictures, though," said Bertha.

"Thanks! I can't wait to study photography in college. I've still got so much to learn, but I'm looking forward to it. So... what are we talking about?" She started unpacking her lunch.

"Prom's almost here!" Prudence chirped. "Senior prom! What do you think it'll be like?"

"I can't wait to find out," said Bertha, tearing into a package of chips. "What about you, Lydia? You are coming this year, aren't you?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"But it's our senior year!" Prudence protested. "You have to go! Er, don't you?" She glanced at Bertha for corroboration, and the taller girl nodded emphatically.

Lydia unwrapped her sandwich, trying to answer the question for herself. Usually, she quite enjoyed going to the school dances; as chief photographer for the yearbook, attending in that capacity was a lot of fun - taking pictures of her schoolmates, with Beetlejuice disguised as her purse or a piece of camera equipment. Sometimes they'd slip away to a side room, just the two of them, where no one could see that their feet didn't always touch the floor or that Lydia's dance partner didn't look entirely... human.

Senior prom was a bigger deal. Fancier. Flashier. More intimidating - to say nothing of providing her mother with countless more opportunities to embarrass her. And then there was the whole matter of going with someone; that would make bringing BJ next to impossible, for one thing, and she doubted he would like that too much. Taking all these points into consideration, she had made it a point to miss the junior prom. But confronted with the idea, she had to concede that for whatever reason, she really wanted to go this time.

Before she could articulate a response, however, a new voice barged into the conversation. "Like, I'm so sure! Who'd want to attend the senior prom with the Corpse Bride?" Claire almost collapsed sideways laughing at her own joke.

"And I suppose you already have a date?" Lydia wished her response was a bit more cutting, but it would have to do.

"My only problem is deciding whose invitation to accept," Claire replied, straightening. "There are so many options available, it's hard to choose. Sort of like colleges, but better-looking." She smirked. "You three, on the other hand, will probably be scraping the bottom of the barrel."

"There's plenty of guys in this school," Bertha protested. "And they can't all go with you, Claire. There's bound to be someone."

"For you two... maybe," Claire replied loftily. She gestured grandly at Prudence and Bertha, like a fairy godmother bestowing stray gifts. "You at least look lifelike. Lydia looks more like she just got out of her coffin."

You say that like it's an insult, she thought. To her profound horror, however, the words which jumped out of her mouth were very different.

"Don't worry about me, Claire, I've got a date."

Claire snorted. "Oh, right, sure you do. Where've you been hiding this mystery man, then?"

"He doesn't live around here."

"Convenient! But you're going to dig him up for the prom, huh? That's totally the biggest lie I've ever heard!"

"Well, I'll have to talk to him and make sure he can get into town for the prom - but if he can, you'll meet him." Lydia was scowling. "Now can I please eat my lunch without feeling sick?"

"If you can, I'm impressed; I'd be sick every day if I had to be you. Can't wait to meet your Prince Charming." Claire cackled as she walked away. Hastily, Lydia stuffed a corner of her sandwich into her mouth as Prudence and Bertha rounded on her.

"You've got a boyfriend, Lydia? And you never told us?"

"Where does he live? What's he like?"

She chewed slowly, stalling for time. Unbidden, an image rose in her mind - the grinning, ghoulish countenance of the closest thing she had, or had ever had, to such a thing. No, there was no way she could even begin to go there. That would be entirely too difficult to explain.

(More than that, it was sacred ground. If she were honest with herself, they'd been dancing on the edge of that knife for at least a year now; in some ways, probably even longer. But actually taking the plunge was an incredible risk.)

"He's hard to describe," she said finally. "I don't really think he's going to be able to get here for the prom, though... I'll talk to him and see."

The rest of the day drifted by in something of a confused haze. Lydia only vaguely remembered riding her bike home from school; she offered her father a half-hearted greeting and went to her room, flopping on the bed. She couldn't remember feeling so tired in ages.

How long she lay there, she wasn't entirely sure. Her face was pressed into the pillows, her stomach sunk lightly into the coverlet. She missed Percy; he'd passed on not long after her eighth grade graduation from Miss Shannon's School for Girls, and it would have been comforting to have him curl up next to her head just now. (Beetlejuice kept checking for signs of him in the Neitherworld, but she didn't expect him to surface. He had hated that place so much; he never was quite the same after the witches' ball.)

All was silent save for the persistent ticking of the clock in the hall. Maybe an hour passed; maybe two; maybe just ten minutes. It was all the same in her present mindset.

"Yo! Babes!"

Lydia shifted her face just enough to flick her gaze to the mirror. The reflection wasn't her own, though she'd have been startled if it were. "Hi, Beej."

"Wow. You look like something the cat dragged in... after being run over by a train," he mused. "Bad day?"

"Not exactly."

"What's wrong, Babes?" His tone shifted subtly, but she could always catch it; he had stopped the joking and was worried about her. She sighed, rolling onto her side so she could face the mirror properly.

"Remember when I found your yearbook, and you told me about how you were named prom king at your high school?"

"I've tried to forget about that, but yes."

"Remember how you built your date using a toaster and an answering machine?"

"...get to the point."

Lydia grumbled. "I kind of did the same thing."

"Really?" He peered around the room. "No kidding? What kind of toaster did you use?"

In spite of herself, she smiled. "Not like that." She sighed. "Prom's coming up, and we were talking about it, and Claire started getting on my case about how nobody would want to go with me. She called me the Corpse Bride."

"Wow." His eyes widened. "She complimented you? That Emily was a babe and a half!"

"I don't think she meant it as a compliment, BJ. Anyway, I got so mad that I started telling her that I do have a date. So now she and Bertha and Prudence all think I've got some mystery boyfriend who lives out of town and he may or may not be able to get here in time to go with me."

"Ah." He scratched the back of his head.

"I know, I know," she said, as though he'd admonished her. Like Beetlejuice would ever get on my case for lying. "I shouldn't have done it. But after all these years, Claire just knows how to get under my skin. I thought with all of us in the public high school, she'd have other people to bother, but I guess I'm still her favorite. And I don't know what to do - I guess I'll have to tell them he can't make it."

He was quiet for a moment, which she idly thought was unlike him. "You know," he said, "you did say you'd have been proud to go to the prom with me."

"I thought about that. And I meant it, I would."

"So how about I take you? You know I love to cut a rug!" He held up a length of carpet and a pair of shears.

"I know." She half smiled. "It'd be fun to go with you, Beej. But prom's a different deal in my world than it was when you went. You'd have to be... clean. Dressed up. No eating bugs. And you'd have to be polite to everybody, you know."

"Babes, you're killin' me - and I'm already dead."

"And you wouldn't be able to juice anybody," she added. "No matter what they did, no matter what they said - not even Claire. Can you honestly tell me you'd have that kind of self-control?"

"Well..."

"I've met your willpower, don't forget. I know the answer."

"Right." He heaved a sigh. "Sorry, Lyds. Well, Burp and Prune like you too much to hold it against you, and who cares what Claire thinks anyway? Tell you what - you give 'em the brush-off, and we'll find something really fun to do that night. Something scary and gross and freaky. Anything my girl wants. Okay?"

"Thanks, Beetlejuice."

Chapter Text

For as long as he could remember, Beetlejuice had operated more or less without rules. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, to whom he wanted. He was the Ghost with the Most, and everyone knew it, and the Neitherworld was his shucked oyster. In the last half-dozen years, however, and almost without his being aware of it, things had changed. If he was honest with himself - not that he was a big fan of honesty - he'd have to admit that he had established two rules in his mind. Just two.

One, he wanted Lydia to be happy and he would do just about anything to ensure it. Whatever she needed, whatever she wanted, his juice was at her disposal. Two, God have mercy on anyone who hurt her, threatened to hurt her, or even just looked at her funny, because Beetlejuice himself certainly would not have mercy.

Then there was three, which wasn't a rule so much as it was a reality which had come to quietly assert itself. The fact was that Lydia could ask him for pretty much anything, and he'd have a really hard time saying no. That had been proven many times over. Heck, one time she almost persuaded him to tell his brother that he loved him, and that was a word he didn't generally extend to anyone.

(Well, okay, to Lydia herself he did. But that was one time and he wasn't really talking to her so she probably didn't hear it and it didn't really count.)

He hovered in the Roadhouse, pacing back and forth - though whether it really constituted pacing when he wasn't actually moving his legs was a matter of debate. Frankly, he would have enjoyed pondering that rather than what was occupying his thoughts. "This prom thing is a pickle," he mused, briefly transforming into a slightly rotting dill.

He was startled out of the shape by a knock at his door. "Yoo-hoo! Be-attle-juice!"

"Great. Like I don't have enough on my mind," he muttered, drifting over to open the door. "What's going on, bonehead?"

Jacques, with Ginger the spider close behind, strolled into the roadhouse and looked around in curiosity. "Where ees Lydia? I 'alf expected to see -"

"She's not coming today," Beetlejuice replied shortly, letting the door slam.

"You okay, Beetlejuice?" Ginger's tap shoes scuttled across the floor, and she peered up at him from the vicinity of his knees. "You and Lydia didn't have a fight, didja? Didja?" Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do to her?"

"No, we didn't have a fight, Ginger, geez. She's just not feeling great."

"Well, zat would account for you being so grumpy," Jacques noted. "But eet ees unlike you to leave her alone in such circumstances."

"Yeah, well..." He folded his arms and floated sulkily across the room, only to be confronted by a framed and spiderweb-adorned photograph of Lydia. She wore driving goggles and was seated behind Doomie's wheel, her grin slightly manic.

Studying the contours of her face, he softened. "Lemme ask you guys something, since you're here and all..."

One ripple dissolve later...

"So Lydia wants to go to her senior prom," Ginger mused, "but she doesn't have anyone to take her? But she's such a sweetheart! Who wouldn't want to go with her?"

"That's about the size of it. Ugh, that stuck-up snot Claire Brewster! I'd like to juice the blonde right out of her hair. It's all her fault, y'know. Lyds didn't care two bits about the prom before she stuck her nose job into it."

"And you cannot take her, Be-attle-juice?" Jacques inquired.

"Even if I wanted to clean up that much, I don't think I could be in the same room with Claire for more than five minutes without juicing her to pieces," he admitted, "and Lydia knows it." He snorted. "I'd have to, I dunno, get my powers shut off for the night or something. Like that would ever happen."

Jacques and Ginger glanced at each other.

"Well," Jacques said after a moment, "there might be a way."

"Say what?"

"Jacques is right," said Ginger. "You could submit a wish to the Fairy Godfather!"

Beetlejuice blinked. "Don't these stories usually have a fairy godmother?"

"Mais oui," Jacques agreed. "But 'ere in the Neitherworld, we 'ave ze Fairy Godfather. 'E will examine your wish and decide whether or not to grant eet!"

"Yeah. He'll make you an offer that you can't refuse," Ginger added.

"I dunno, I'm not the biggest fan of unbreakable contracts," he mused. "I've seen enough of those. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing." He resumed float-pacing.

"But... what if Lydia finds someone else to take her?" Ginger ventured. "What'll you do then?"

Beetlejuice froze in midair.

What would he do?

"Psh," he said, "she wouldn't do that. I already promised we'll do whatever she wants that night, she's not gonna pass that up."

They looked at each other again. He wished they'd stop doing that. "You know," Jacques ventured, "Lydia is no longer ze petite mademoiselle she was when you first brought her to ze Neitherworld, mon ami. Perhaps she will forget ze prom zis time, but soon - well - she is growing up."

"She's changing," Ginger noted. "We've noticed it already."

"What do you mean, changing?" Beetlejuice demanded. "She hasn't changed! She's - she's - Lydia!"

"Beetlejuice, you've been friends for six years. Lydia's a young woman now, an adult. You really haven't noticed this?"

"No." He was lying, and they knew it. And he knew that they knew it. And maybe they even knew that he knew that they knew it. His head spun around briefly, and he reached up to grab it. "Yeesh. This is giving me a headache."

"So what are you gonna do, then?" Ginger asked.

"I dunno." He kicked at an imaginary stone. "This isn't like her. I bet it's - it's a phase she's going through. I mean, they do that, don't they? Teenagers? Go through phases? I went through one where nothing fazed me."

"I don't think -" Jacques began, but Beetlejuice cut him off.

"It's gonna be fine. You know, maybe I will go see this Godfather, and then I can take her to the stupid prom and get this all out of her system." He was starting to cheer up some. "And then once it's over, it'll be back to situation abnormal and everything'll be the way it was! Yeah! That's it!"

Jacques and Ginger looked at each other again.

"Will you stop doing that?" he demanded. "Just tell me how to find this Fairy Godfather guy."

Chapter Text

The small castle of the Fairy Godfather was situated at some distance from the Roadhouse. Rather than confuse Beetlejuice, Jacques decided to simply give the directions to Doomie, and let him do the driving.

"You sure you don't want us to come along, Beetlejuice? You know, for moral support," Ginger offered.

"Pfft. Nah. How hard can this be? Just sit tight and I'll be back in a while."

"Okay, Doomeroo," said Beetlejuice when they pulled up at the castle, "you wait here. I'm gonna go talk to this guy."

Doomie made a few inquisitive grinding sounds, and Beetlejuice grumbled. "Look, it's not my idea. Blame your mother. She wants to go to this fancy dance, and if I don't find a way to go with her, she could get into all kinds of trouble. Neither of us wants that, right?"

"Meep meep!"

"Atta boy. Stay here."

A couple of suits were standing outside the castle gate. These were not guys wearing suits; they were a couple of actual black three-piece suits standing at attention, with trilbies floating as though perched on invisible heads and sunglasses where eyes might have gone. Nestled beneath each fabric arm was a violin case. Beetlejuice approached them, then paused. "Huh. You with the band or something?"

"State your business!"

"Uh. Right. I'm here to, uh, see the Fairy Godfather."

The two glanced each other; at least, he guessed that's what they were doing based on the way the sunglasses turned, and the gate was raised barely a moment later. Beetlejuice swallowed; this was a bit more intimidating than he'd expected. He adjusted his tie and raked his fingers through his hair before stepping through the opening.

A few moments of wandering later, he found himself before a ghost seated at a desk. His face was heavily jowled and the color of chalk, his eyes sunken; one hand held a glass of wine, the other a cigar. "Beetlejuice. It is Beetlejuice, isn't it? Your reputation precedes you." His voice was deep and oddly pitched.

"Aw, it spoiled the surprise! So - you're the Fairy Godfather I've heard so much about, huh?" He peered thoughtfully at the other figure. "Did anybody ever tell you ya kinda look like Marlon Brando?"

The Godfather didn't laugh, didn't even crack a smile. "You come into my house, the self-proclaimed Ghost With the Most - and for what?"

"Well... I was told you, uh... grant wishes."

"Sometimes, yes, when the spirit moves me to do so. But I have my doubts as to whether you are a spirit who can move me." He set down his glass.

"All right, lemme lay it on you," Beetlejuice began. "I've got this friend. Lydia. She's, well, human."

The Godfather held up a hand. "There is little which happens in the Neitherworld without my knowledge. I have heard of this friend. She was voted Favorite Mortal to Visit the Neitherworld six years running, as I understand, not that she has much competition."

"Right, that's her."

"She is the only person in the world who can make you act against your nature. And that, I suspect, has led you to make this wish."

"Yeah, uh... yeah. She has this special night coming up, next month I think, and well, I can't go with her, since I'm, y'know, dead and all. But it's real important to her." Beetlejuice allowed emotion to creep into his voice, trying to sell the Godfather on his sincerity. He gestured behind his back, and a violin appeared in the air above his head to add a mournful soundtrack to his words. "I just can't stand seeing her unhappy, not after all we've been through together! She's made me the fiend I am today - she's the sunshine of my afterlife." He managed to add a few tears for dramatic effect. The worst part, he thought, was that it was all true. "So I thought that you - being the Fairy Godfather and all - you might be able to fix it so I can do this for her. I just need one night where I, well, where I'm alive again. So I can blend in, you understand. One night being human, and then it'd be straight back to the Neitherworld for good and all. Whaddya say?"

"Alive again?" the Godfather repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah. I mean, how else can I do this without raising any suspicions? If I go as my naturally repulsive self, I might accidentally start hovering in midair or maybe crunch down on a nice juicy beetle, from force of habit, y'know." He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Of course, if that's asking too much of your wish-granting abilities, I understand. Just thought it was worth a try."

"Don't put words in my mouth," said the Godfather sharply. "What you ask is not out of the realm of possibility... but it's such an unusual request that it requires a great deal of contemplation. To grant this, should I agree, would be exceptional. And of course, it would require certain... concessions... on your part."

Beetlejuice frowned. "I dunno if I like the sound of that."

The Godfather didn't reply. He just sat back in his chair, stroking his chin and studying Beetlejuice intently. It seemed to go on for a very long time; he started to sweat under the scrutiny.

"Here's what I'm going to do, Beetlejuice," said the Godfather at last. "Your wish, the sincerity of your affections... my heart is touched. So I'm going to make you an offer that you can't refuse."

"You know, maybe this wasn't such a hot idea."

The Godfather snapped his fingers. A large parchment scroll unrolled itself in the air before Beetlejuice. "This is the offer," he said. "I will provide you with the means to resume your old human form - age appropriate, of course - for ten hours. This will be any ten hours of your choosing," he explained, "though they must taken all in one gulp. You'll be provided with everything you require for the occasion. But you must return to the Neitherworld before the ten hours conclude; otherwise, you will have to remain in that form permanently."

"Uh-huh..." Beetlejuice eyed the contract. "So what's the catch?"

"No catch. Not really. It's all spelled out in the fine print, if you wish to peruse it. During the ten hours of your mortality, I will assume guardianship of your powers - your juice, as you call it. Once you return to the Neitherworld, you'll come back here and return the item which I am about to lend you, at which time your juice will be restored. Just sign on the dotted line, and initial where marked."

"And you... you can guarantee this is gonna work?"

"I did not earn my reputation through dishonorable practices," said the Godfather indignantly. "Business can only be conducted between reasonable persons. If you doubt me, leave, and I will forget you ever darkened my doorstep - after I have the room fumigated, that is."

A pen popped into existence near Beetlejuice's hand. He took it, still uncertain. "Well... shucks. What's the worst that could happen?" he mused. "Anyway, it's for Lyds."

The signed contract rolled itself up and sailed across the room to the Godfather's desk. "Excellent. Now, I'll hold up my end of the wish granting."

"You're not gonna abracadabra me right now, are ya? This shindig's not for a while yet."

"As I said, the ten-hour stretch is of your choosing." The Godfather stood, pulling from his pocket a large ring of brass keys in assorted sizes. He crossed to a cabinet in the corner and, carefully separating one key from its fellows, unlocked the door. "Here we are. One pair of men's dress shoes, like those you saw my guards wearing outside. When you're ready to commence the ten hours, put these on instead of your usual footwear; my powers will take care of the rest."

"I cannot believe you actually 'ad an audience with the Fairy Godfather himself," said Jacques, once Beetlejuice and Doomie had returned to the Roadhouse.

"Yep. 'Course, he'd already heard all about the Ghost With the Most," Beetlejuice replied airily, folding his arms behind his head. "He was probably excited to meet me!"

"These dancing shoes are killer," said Ginger, admiringly. "Lydia's going to be so excited!"

"Speaking of Lyds, I'd better check with her about all this," Beetlejuice noted. "You know. Make sure she's on board and everything. Be a waste if after all that, she'd changed her mind about wanting to go to the prom."

Chapter Text

At first, Beetlejuice wasn't sure she'd noticed him. He was watching from the mirror of her dressing table; Lydia sat on the bed, hunched over her sketchpad. She seemed oblivious to his presence.

"I feel like I've barely seen you lately," she said suddenly.

At that, he laughed. "You're too busy for me," he said in a teasingly sulky voice.

"I'm not!" she protested. "Well... a little. But I don't mean to be. I just have so much going on with the school year starting to end. Scholarship applications, college admission essays, all that stuff."

"Mm." His tone was non-committal; those things didn't mean much to him, but they were important to her, which was enough to make them matter. "Whatcha doin' now?"

She chuckled, still sketching. "I finally won the standoff with Mom about my prom dress. She wanted to take me shopping for some wretched pink thing. It took some doing, but I got her to agree that this is too good an opportunity for me to be creative; she just made me promise that I won't wear black or gray."

"Mmhmm." He leaned halfway out of the mirror, unable to go farther without being summoned. "So? What's it going to be then?"

"You don't get to see it until it's ready," she returned. "But I guess you can know the color." She pointed at a supply of deep plum fabric on the sewing machine table; it seemed to shimmer a little. "What do you think?"

"Exquisite, my dear," he drawled idly. Returning to his normal voice, he asked, "Are you sure you can have it done in time?"

"You once helped me make an entire cast's worth of Shakespeare costumes in nine hours. I think I can handle one dress in three weeks." She chuckled and tore off her sketch. "So what's the plan, anyway? You know my parents want to meet my mystery date."

"I've got it all worked out, Lyds," he assured her. "I get ten hours once the shoes are on. We'll coordinate our watches, and you'll say the magic B-words once I'm changed and sitting in Doomie."

"You're bringing Doomie?" she asked, delighted.

"Gotta ride in style, Lyds! Besides, he gave me the pouty face." Beetlejuice scowled. "It's just easier to give in than deal with that staring at me all day."

She laughed. "You're such a softie, BJ."

"Am not! Eugh!"

"All right, so I juice you and Doomie here at the appointed hour. And you have to be back in the Neitherworld before the ten hours are up." She tapped her pencil to her lips thoughtfully. "That gives us about an hour for you to 'meet' my parents and take photos here, and maybe another half hour or so to stop by the cemetery and take some pictures there before we head for the school gym. So as long as we skip any of the after-parties, we should be fine for me to juice you home in time."

"Aw, do we have to skip all the parties? I could bring some Party People in a Can and leave them at Claire's place," he teased.

"Prom's not on a full moon, it wouldn't be quite as much fun." She chuckled, shaking her head. "After-parties are lame anyway, from what I hear. People getting drunk, doing stupid things, who knows what else. I'd rather hang out with just you any day of the week."

"Aw, shucks, Babes. Well, when you put it that way, I'll have to be satisfied with burning up the dance floor at the prom."

"Are we going to..." She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Only if you want to." He smirked.

"You know the answer to that."

"That's my Lydster! Of course we will!"

She giggled. "I'm really glad you worked this out, Beetlejuice. It just wouldn't have been the same without you."

"What, and deprive you of the chance to show up Claire? Perish the thought."

"I gotta admit, Beetlejuice," said Ginger on the day of the prom, "I'm still kinda in shock about what you're doing tonight. A whole evening of being clean and pleasant? How are you gonna stand it?"

"Believe me, Ging, I'm trying not to ask the same question," he grumbled. "Once I get back, we are never going to speak of this again."

"I am sure Lydia appreciates it, Be-attle-juice," Jacques pointed out.

"Which is the only reason I'm even bothering. Yecch." He looked at the time and sighed a bit. "I guess I'd better get this over with."

He dragged his feet outside to where Doomie stood parked at attention. The car honked excitedly. "Soon, Doomster," Beetlejuice promised, popping the trunk open. He pulled out the box containing the shoes. "Had to keep these where I wouldn't lose them," he explained, returning to the Roadhouse's w(rec)ked room and opening the package. "Well... here goes nothing, huh?"

He sat down on the old wooden couch and kicked off his boots. The shiny leather shoes which the Fairy Godfather had provided seemed to almost laugh at him. With a vague sense of dread, he pulled them on and got to his feet. "They feel okay, I guess. Wait... what the..." Smoke was pouring out from beneath the soles of the shoes, rising in a bluish cloud and encircling Beetlejuice until he was completely obscured from view. "What's happening? Hey!"

"Be-attle-juice!" All Jacques and Ginger could do was wait, coughing and trying to wave away the strange billowing cloud. It finally dissipated, leaving them staring in disbelief at what remained.

"Hi... I'm BJ."

BJ, as it turned out, looked to be about 19 years old. He was of medium height and build, with fluffy, dishwater blond hair which fell almost to his shoulders, and his eyes were rather unexpectedly blue. He was studying himself in the mirror with some perplexity; Beetlejuice's usual ensemble was gone, replaced by a well-cut black pinstripe suit and white dress shirt. Around his neck was a black tie patterned with tiny white bats, and a small flower was tucked into the buttonhole of the jacket.

"Sacre bleu," Jacques managed. "Be-attle-juice! Is it really you?"

"More or less, yeah."

"Is this what you looked like... you know, before?" Ginger asked, gaping.

"Before I died? I think so. It was a long time ago, I don't entirely remember." He felt his jaw. "Man, the voice is weird, isn't it? I almost wouldn't know it was me speaking, if I didn't know it was me speaking. Hey, I'd better get out to Doomie before Lyds springs the B-words. Catch you later."

Within the hour, Doomie was parked outside the Deetz residence, and BJ was ringing the doorbell with flowers in his hand. "We've come for your daughter, Chuck," he muttered under his breath, snickering.

Charles Deetz opened the door, wearing the single most apprehensive expression BJ could ever remember seeing on his face. "Oh. You must be... BJ. Please, come in, Lydia will be down in a minute."

"Thank you, Mr. Deetz." BJ bit back a groan of disgust at his own politeness, but he kept a strangled smile glued in place. Do it for her.

"Oh, BJ!" trilled Delia, as they entered the living room. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you! Lydia's told us all about you!"

"Oh - she has?" Babes, what did you tell them?

"Yeah. Beetleman Junior, huh?" Charles didn't look too happy.

Aha. "Oh, right, you've met, uh, my father. I hope you won't hold that against me," he offered with a chuckle.

Lydia's parents exchanged a surprised look. "...maybe he's adopted," Charles muttered hopefully. "So, I want my daughter home by one, all right?"

"Of course, sir!"

"Oh, and here she comes," said Delia, turning as she heard Lydia's step on the stairs. "Well! The dress is... your creativity is utterly explosive, dear."

BJ turned, and the grin that split his features was genuine. The gown she'd refused to show him was sleeveless, strapless, and hugged her at the waist, then flared out from the knees. Matching plum-colored opera gloves sheathed her arms to the elbows. Over the bodice of the dress she had crafted a sort of netting - shiny black beadwork arranged to resemble bats in flight and spiders crawling over intricate webs. Only Lyds could come up with something like that.

"Hi, BJ." If she was surprised by his appearance, she hid it well.

"Hi, Lyds. Oh - here." He somewhat clumsily offered the corsage.

"Calla lilies and deadly nightshade? My favorite!"

They suffered through a short eternity of picture snapping, but finally made their escape to the impatiently waiting Doomie. "Meep meep!"

Lydia laughed. "Thanks, Doomie. You look beautiful too." Settling down next to BJ in the front seat, she eyed him. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I'm gonna get. This body's so weird, Babes. I've seen four bugs since I got here and I didn't have an urge to eat any of them." He smirked at her. "Nice cover story with the Beetleman Junior thing. I was half expecting your dad to kick me out when that came up."

"Yeah, he wasn't really thrilled, but I told him you're nothing like your 'father.' Mom was more okay with it, but she's probably just excited about my finally going on a date." She pitched her voice a bit higher, mocking Delia. "Lydia, how are you ever going to meet a nice boy if you spend all your free time exploring cemeteries or raising worms?"

"Hate to break it to you, Lyds, but I'm not a nice boy." He wriggled his eyebrows teasingly, and she laughed.

"Beej, I figured that out for myself a long time ago. Now come on, let's go have some fun."

Art piece commissioned from the wonderfully talented addatheripper on Tumblr.

Yes, that's what BJ really looks like.

Chapter Text

"Ugh... what kind of cutesy theme is this?" BJ muttered as they entered the school gym.

"Yeah, 'Forever in Pink' wasn't my preference either," she replied. "I tried to vote for a Halloween-in-spring motif, but the committee wasn't having it. That's why I thought the cemetery photos beforehand were a good idea."

"It does take a bit of the gack out of all this sugar," he agreed.

They found Prudence and Bertha, who were hanging around near the punch table with their dates. "Hey, everybody!" said Lydia. "Beej, these are my friends that I've told you about, Bertha and Prudence; Bertha's here with Devin, who is her biology lab partner, and Prudence's date is Kyle, he's on the yearbook staff with me. Guys, this is BJ."

"Nice to meet you all," he said. She admired how natural he made it sound.

"We hoped we were going to get the chance to meet you! Lydia wouldn't tell us much about you," said Prudence, peering up at him. "She makes you out to be such a mystery."

He chuckled, looping an arm across Lydia's shoulders. "Yeah, she does like to surprise people, know what I mean?"

From across the room, Claire's voice cut through the pleasant chitchat. "Eugh, Lydia, what are you wearing? Did you make it yourself?"

"I did, in fact," Lydia replied calmly as Claire - dripping from head to toe in shimmering pink silk - sidled up to the group.

"Well, that's a relief. At least that means there's only one dress like it. Oh, and is this the secret boyfriend?" She eyed BJ up and down, a sour expression in her eyes. "Where did you dig him up?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Almost without thinking, Lydia edged slightly closer to BJ; he squeezed her shoulder as though to say he understood.

The three pairs, happy to get away from Claire, found a table and sat down for refreshments before the dancing opened. "So you mean Lydia's friend Betty is actually your cousin?" Bertha asked of BJ.

"Yeah, uh... I'm adopted."

"How did you two meet?" Bertha wanted to know.

"Well, Lydia's mom has hired my dad for a couple of odd jobs over the years," he explained, lounging a bit in his chair. "Dad took a liking to Lyds and thought we ought to meet, since we like a lot of the same stuff." He glanced at her and smiled. "Between him and Betty, I guess it was only a matter of time."

"Right," she replied composedly, amused. "Unfortunately, it's usually a long-distance relationship, since he doesn't live around here."

"Why'd you keep it a secret all this time?"

"Well, I couldn't really prove he existed, so I thought it was just easier to not mention it. He's a little hard to explain sometimes," she added, ruffling his hair. He grinned lopsidedly, rolling his eyes.

"It's a shame, though. That means they've never heard all the stories from before we were dating." BJ met her eyes and winked. "Like that time we went to the Wild West show!"

"Oh, no - you don't mean - " She giggled. "With the, uh, cowpoke who wouldn't leave me alone?"

"That's the one. Oh, and my car that's sitting outside? She helped me with the refurb. I didn't even know what a carburetor was," he admitted.

The conversation continued largely in this vein through the dining portion of the evening, since Lydia's friends were so entertained by BJ's versions of events. Eventually the dance floor opened up, the prom court was announced, and people lined up for their professional portraits. After half the senior class (and BJ) postured their way through a rather terrible rendition of the "Thriller" dance, Lydia, Prudence, and Bertha made their way to the ladies' room.

"I'm glad Claire got to be in the prom court," Lydia noted, "but I'm even more glad she didn't make queen. So are you having fun?"

"Yeah, this is great!" Prudence chirped. "And you should bring BJ to more stuff. He's a fun guy and you're really happy when he's here."

"Oh, you think so, huh?" She washed her hands, chuckling.

"Well, yeah," said Bertha, passing her a paper towel. "You know how they say people glow when they're happy? That's you tonight."

"Aw, you two are sweet! But we'd better get back before he does anything silly; I'm like 85% of his impulse control."

They found Devin and Kyle right where they'd left them, but BJ was nowhere in sight. "Where'd he go?" Lydia asked, puzzled.

"He said he was going to request a song for you," said Devin.

"Oh." She tried to suppress a giggle, but it was impossible. "So we're going to do that, huh?"

"Do what?" Prudence inquired.

"Well..."

Before she could properly elaborate, however, the disc jockey's voice cut through the air. "All right, guys and dolls," he said, "we've got a special request and I've been asked for a bit of clear space on the dance floor. Lydia Deetz, this number is for you."

"Ew," she heard Claire say, though most of the rest of the buzz was merely curious. As the crowd backed up a bit, she saw BJ, and fought down a laugh. He swiped a long-stemmed rose from one of the floral centerpieces and put it between his teeth, then stood at attention as the opening notes of the song began to play. One hand was lifted in the air, with the other curled across his stomach. His fingers snapped rhythmically, arms switching positions after each line of the opening verse.

I ache for the touch of your lips, dear,

But much more for the touch of your whips, dear

You can raise welts

Like nobody else

As we dance to the Masochism Tango!

He extended a hand and Lydia hurried forward to take it, allowing him to spin her against him. They'd done this at least a dozen times at home, ever since she'd first discovered the old song and played it for him. (Granted, they usually spent a portion of the dance airborne, but that wasn't an option tonight.) Their steps were in perfect time; for some verses they stamped their feet in place while snapping their fingers, while other portions of the song had them pressed close as they stalked sinuously across the floor, their clasped hands extended before them. There was a manic gleam in BJ's eyes the entire time.

At your command, before you here I stand,

My heart is in my hand... ecch...

It's here that I must be!

My heart entreats, so hear those savage beats,

Then go put on your cleats

And come and trample me!

He dipped her, looming over her with an almost horrible grin, and she couldn't help but laugh. The dip was so low that her hair nearly brushed the floor before he whisked her upright again. There was a distinct pounding in her ears that might not be entirely related to the music, but he was spinning her before she could think too much about it.

Bash in my brain and make me scream with pain,

Then kick me once again

And say we'll never part;

I know too well, I'm underneath your spell,

So darling, if you smell

Something burning, it's my heart!

BJ paused dancing just long enough to thump his chest and burp. "Excuse me."

As the song began to wind down, he marched her across the floor once again, then spun her away from him. Releasing her hand for an instant, he allowed her to twirl on her own (usually she would be floating for this, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't floating now) before catching it once again. As Tom Lehrer's recorded voice exulted the final line, he spun her back against himself and dipped her one last time, then straightened and took the rose from his teeth, offering it to her. She was almost laughing too hard to accept it. Nothing quite like this had ever been seen at one of their school dances, and few people seemed to know how to respond other than by clapping and roaring with laughter.

At some distance, however, the captain of the school's rugby team was staring in perfect bewilderment. "What was that?" he asked his date.

Claire folded her arms and looked away, scowling. "For someone as weird and gross as Lydia Deetz?" She huffed. "Probably foreplay."

Tumblr's stylishanachronism did this version of the tango and was even so kind

as to send me the actual physical art piece. <3

Chapter Text

BJ was feeling pretty pleased with himself. After saying goodnight to Lydia's friends, they'd left the prom and taken Doomie for a cruise around Peaceful Pines, rehashing the evening and laughing all over again about the tango.

By the time they returned to the Deetz residence, there was only about an hour remaining of the ten. They walked up to the porch, and he stood on the step below her so they were approximately eye to eye. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Lydia remarked. "You know how to show a girl a good time."

"You know me, Babes. I'm the life of the party!"

She smiled. "My friends thought you were pretty great. They really got a kick out of your stories about us." Glancing at the rose he'd held in his teeth, she added, "Although I'm curious to find out what they thought about that performance."

"Let me know. Maybe we can do an encore at graduation."

She chuckled. A sudden rustling sound caught her attention, however, and her eyes darted sideways. "Look at the window very carefully," she said in a quiet voice. "Are my parents watching us?"

Snorting, he glanced quickly at where the curtains were moving none too discreetly. "Oh yeah. Chuckles is probably climbing the walls."

"We should give them something to look at, then," she remarked. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes; he didn't see it often, but it always promised something good.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Hold still."

She brought one gloved hand to his face. He wanted to ask what she meant, what she was doing, what she was thinking. Her mouth was on his before he could voice a single question, wiping his mind blank. Lydia was kissing him - actually, seriously, and possibly rather enthusiastically kissing him. Vaguely he registered a strangled yelp from inside the house, and he knew it was the greatest prank anyone would ever play on old Charles, but he was a little too distracted to care.

She pulled back after a moment, smirking. "So much for having an audience."

"Heh. Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"You'd better go, though... I'll wait til you're around the corner to send you both back." She smiled. "Thanks for everything, BJ."

"Anything for you, Babes."

He wasn't exactly thrilled to find Jacques and Ginger waiting impatiently at the Roadhouse when he returned, although he was in too good a mood to complain. "How was it? How was it?" Ginger begged.

"Ah, it was okay. We danced, we schmoozed, we carried on, we went home. Know what I mean?"

"I 'ope Lydia brings pictures for us to see," said Jacques.

"Yeah, she probably will." BJ glanced at the clock. Meanwhile, I gotta get these shoes back to the old Fairy Godfather before I forget." He sat down to take them off.

"Wait a second." Ginger hopped up on the couch and peered at him closely. "You weren't wearing lipstick when you left, Beetlejuice!"

"Huh?" Feigning ignorance, he wiped his mouth with his hand and looked at the smear of color. "Well - huh - how'd that get there?" He chuckled shakily. "Anyway! Look at the time. Let's get me back to, y'know, me."

Ginger looked like she wanted very much to question him, but she and Jacques settled for exchanging uncomfortably smug looks. He tried his best to ignore them, focusing all his attention on removing the fancy dress shoes. They wouldn't budge. "Yo, bonehead, gimme a hand."

He glanced up as Jacques calmly detached one of his arms and held it out with the other. "Very funny. These shoes are stuck - I guess my feet are swollen or something. Help me get them off."

"Quelle strange," Jacques noted, putting his arm back where it belonged. "Let me see 'ere... non, zey will not budge!"

"Well, that can't be good..."

Sixteen attempts and three hours later, Beetlejuice - still in his BJ form - stood before the Fairy Godfather, laughing nervously and tugging at his collar. The suit had long since become rumpled, the tie loosened to the point where it almost fell off, and yet the shoes were refusing to budge and still gleamed as though they'd been freshly polished.

"And so y'see, Your Godfathership, I came back in time and everything, but I just can't get the shoes off. Since I don't have access to my magic, I thought maybe you could help me out so I can go back to being my old self again."

"Help you out?" the Godfather repeated. "Oh, I'm afraid that's not possible."

"...what."

"You see..." He snapped his fingers, and the contract unrolled itself in midair. "It very clearly states in paragraph sixteen, clause B, line three, that in exchange for the shoes, you were to have surrendered your powers - your juice, as you call it - in their entirety."

"Well, yeah... I did, didn't I?"

"That's just it. No, you did not." The Godfather steepled his fingers. "Your incredulity suggests that this is news to you."

"Of course it's news to me!"

"Where else could your juice reside, then? How could any of it be beyond your control?"

"I have no idea."

"The fact is, Beetlejuice, you entered this contract knowingly and willingly. You signed it of your own free will, thereby committing yourself to the fulfillment of its terms. And now you come into my house and inform me that, for reasons beyond your control, you are unable, or unwilling, to complete your portion of the agreement."

"I gave up my powers like I promised! I don't know what you want from me!" he protested. "Can't you just take back these shoes and be done with it?"

"No. Until you have completely fulfilled your terms of the agreement, I cannot fulfill mine. The requirements are very clearly outlined; there is your signature to indicate that you read it and agreed to everything."

"Who actually reads a Terms of Service Agreement?"

The Fairy Godfather picked up a small golden bell from his desk, and rang one perfect chime. The suits who normally stood at attention outside immediately entered. "Sonny... Fredo... this gentleman is leaving the premises," he said. "See to it that he's made very comfortable on his way out. To answer your question, Beetlejuice," he added, "I am making you another offer I suggest that you do not refuse: go. You have lived like a fool, and now you have come to a fool's end. And if you leave quietly, I will not bother you again."

"I'm just supposed to walk away and let you keep what's mine!?"

"You're a human now. It appears to be a permanent condition, unless you can find and deliver that last remaining portion of your juice. Do that, and our contract will be complete. Otherwise, keep your distance." He made a slight gesture, and the suits seized BJ by his arms. "We're done here. See him out."

"No!" BJ struggled as they dragged him outside. Doomie, alarmed by the sight of his 'father' restrained in such a manner, flashed his headlights and honked his horn in warning, but the suits ignored him; they dropped their captive unceremoniously into the driver's seat, and returned to their posts by the castle gates.

"Ugh... Doomie, help me out..."

The door opened, and BJ tumbled out onto the ground. Picking himself up with a grunt, he started to approach the suits again. They immediately grabbed their violin cases and, with invisible hands, opened them to extract rifles.

At once, BJ was suddenly extremely aware of two things. One, he was outnumbered, unarmed, and powerless. Two, he was mortal and they could kill him. A strong sense of self-preservation rapidly outweighed his anger, and he dove for the car's protection. As he did, he heard himself screaming, just as he always did when something went wrong.

"LYDIA!"

Chapter Text

Lydia stood at her dressing table, combing her hair. Occasionally her gaze drifted to the corsage, hung up to dry out, and she chuckled. "I still can't believe BJ cleaned up so well - not to mention at all," she mused to herself. "He must have been so relieved to get back to normal, or what he considers normal anyway."

She might have continued ruminating in this vein, but instead she shrieked, jumping backwards in alarm as BJ pressed up against the inside of the mirror. "Lyds!"

"BJ!" She hurried back to the glass, bringing her hands to his without thinking about it. "You're - you're still BJ! What happened, why haven't you changed back?"

"The Fairy Godfather double-crossed me, Babes." His expression was desperate, the blue eyes full of fear. "I'm stuck like this! I can't get back into my old body, and worse -"

"No juice?!"

"No juice!"

"What do we do?"

"I don't know! I don't even know if the magic B word still has any magic in it!"

She stared at him. In all the years she'd known this pranking poltergeist, all the adventures they'd had and the dangers she'd experienced firsthand, Lydia could not remember ever feeling more terrified. "If it doesn't... what do we do if it doesn't?"

"I'm trying not to think about it. At least you're safe on your side of the mirror." He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "From what he said, there's still some juice floating around somewhere."

"Then I'm coming through."

"Lyds, no - even if it works, I might never be able to send you home."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't care. We're sticking together, and we'll figure a way out of this."

"Lydia -"

Lydia pulled away from the mirror, not wanting him to try to talk her out of it. She grabbed her camera and threw the strap around her neck; in the Neitherworld, one never knew when that was going to come in handy. She looked around the room, wondering if she'd ever see it again. Her final act was to open her jewelry box; her hand closed on the spider brooch, the one Beetlejuice had given her to mark the first anniversary of the day they'd met. In some ways, it was her most precious possession.

"Here goes," she said, pulling the drapes shut on her window. "Beetlejuice... Beetlejuice... Beetlejuice!"

"Whoa!" Lydia tumbled to the ground near the Roadhouse's mailbox. "Well... close enough," she mused, picking herself up and brushing at her clothes before running down the path. She ignored the clanking doorbell and just pulled open the door. "BJ? BJ, I'm here."

"You shouldn't have come," he muttered. He was slumped on the sofa, and she moved to sit beside him. He lolled his head to the side, looking at her with an expression of such complete despair and bewilderment, it almost hurt. "Now I'm gonna have to do something heroic to fix all this, because I can't have you stuck here too."

In spite of herself, she chuckled. "At least you've still got your sense of humor. Tell me what happened."

"It wasn't my fault, Babes, I swear."

"I've heard that before."

"It's true this time, though," he protested. "I got back in time, I went to switch the shoes... and these things just won't come off. I had Jacques try to pull them off, I had the Monster Across the Street try, I even let Poopsie chew on them. I was desperate. Nothing works."

"Well, did you talk to the Fairy Godfather?" she asked. "I mean, surely he can see reason."

"Oh, he saw reason, all right." BJ scowled. "He saw it as a reason to keep what's mine! Apparently the contract says that if I don't give him all my juice in exchange for the shoes, then I have to keep the shoes and this body. And I don't know why he thinks I didn't give him all of it, because I sure don't have any left!"

"Oh, no."

"Yeah! And then he had me tossed out of the castle, and I didn't know what to do and that's about when I started yelling for you.

"As you usually do when things go south." She sighed. "There must be something we can do. We - oh, wait, I know!" She seized his hand. "We can go talk to Prince Vince! He rules the Neitherworld, after all, he's got to have some kind of influence here. And he's our friend."

He brightened slightly. "I guess it's worth a shot."

The years since his short-lived romance with Lydia had changed Prince Vince only in small ways; he was still gaunt and pencil-thin, and his expression was still kind and he still loved his poetry. But his castle no longer suffered from continuous weather anomalies, and he had long since abandoned any delusions of rock stardom.

He smiled gently as they entered the hall. "Welcome, my friends. I know you're having difficulties, so please - come and sit down." He studied them closely. "So this is Beetlejuice in human form. Extraordinary."

"You know about that?" Lydia asked, surprised. "How?"

"Oh, I have a Tumblr account," he explained. He gestured to a corner of the hall, where a desktop computer was artfully decorated in spiderwebs.

"Web browsing. You know I love it," BJ remarked.

"Tumblr really gives me a sense of community. And they seem to like my poetry a great deal," the prince noted fondly. "I've been following your story since it was first posted."

"Well, that saves us a lot of exposition," Lydia mused. "Can you help?"

The smile on Prince Vince's face faded. "Unfortunately... not as much as you were hoping," he said regretfully. "Seeing Beetlejuice with my own eyes confirms it. He truly has regained humanity, and clearly, the Fairy Godfather's power is far greater than I had realized - greater than my own."

"But you rule the Neitherworld!" she protested. "Don't you have, I don't know, authority over him?"

The prince shook his head. "It's not that simple, I'm afraid. From everything I've been given to understand, the law is on his side."

"You can't be serious."

Prince Vince rose from his throne and paced a little as he spoke. "The truth is that the Fairy Godfather may not be the most pleasant or likable of characters, but he is... I think the term in common parlance is Lawful Neutral. He operates on the very edge of the law; everything he does, he does within carefully scripted contracts."

"Like the loophole that got Beetlejuice?"

"Exactly. He has only the best and most sesquipedalian Neitherworld lawyers at his beck and call, and they draft his contracts with so many layers of legalese that no one can possibly understand what they're really signing, even if they read every word." He sighed, shaking his head. "Lawyers can steal more with a briefcase than a thousand men with masks."

"I can't believe Jacques sent me to a guy like that!" BJ raged.

"I very much doubt our skeleton friend knew what he was suggesting," Prince Vince assured him. "His contracts aren't generally crafted with an intention to swindle; at least, not from what I'm given to understand. Our friend Beetlejuice basically finds himself skewered by an oddly specific technicality. The only way to get out of the contract is to fulfill your end of it... to attempt to do otherwise is playing a dangerous game."

"Well, I'm not scared! I'm going after this guy and I'm gonna get my juice back!" BJ pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. "Let him do his worst!"

"That's unwise at best, my friend. There are three possibilities here," the prince mused, sitting down again. "You can find your lost juice and deliver it, thereby concluding the contract. If you prefer to remain as you are, I may be able to find a means by which to send you both back to the Outerworld. It will take me some time, however. The third option, the one you describe, is the one that will lead to a bad end; the Fairy Godfather never acts without cause, but if he thinks you're a threat, he will do his best to neutralize you. His retribution will be swift and terrible."

"Then I'm just gonna have to turn the Neitherworld upside down until he crawls out from under a rock like the cockroach he is! And I hate sayin' that because I normally like cockroaches!"

Lydia eyed him a bit warily before turning back to their host. "Is there anything you can do to help us, Your Highness?"

"Well... if you're determined to seek him out, I'll do what I can to assist." Prince Vince looked troubled. "You'll need some provisions for the journey, certainly, and I'll give you what information I have about the Fairy Godfather's operations." He forced a smile. "Lydia, why don't you go with my retainer here? You have a better idea than any of us what two humans would require for such an outing - whatever I can provide is yours."

BJ watched her leave, then turned back to the prince. "You sent her out for a reason. I'm not always all here, but I can tell that much."

"I don't want to frighten her any more than I must," Prince Vince replied, "but make no mistake, my friend - you should be worried. You're mortal now; you can't protect yourself as you once did. You can't protect Lydia as you once did."

"I know. But that's part of why I have to do this - if I don't get my juice back, I'm stuck like this and she's stuck here."

"I understand. But you need to know one thing more about the Fairy Godfather, Beetlejuice." The prince hadn't looked so grave in years. "If I was able to find out what happened to you before you came here, then he can certainly pick up on what you're planning to do. And he will do whatever he can to stop you, my friend, because he has what is yours and he knows what you are normally capable of doing."

"He's gonna throw everything he's got at me, huh?" BJ shrugged. "Yeah, well, I dunno what he can do that's worse than leaving me stuck like this."

"Beetlejuice... I think you do." Prince Vince gave him a very serious look. "Every minion at his disposal could very well be targeting you as we speak. I have heard about what happens when he sends them; it's rare, but it has happened, and it has never ended well. They will not stop. And when they come... they come at what you love."

Chapter Text

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 Fester!"

"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!"

Chapter Text

BJ had been in a pretty foul mood ever since leaving the prince's hall, and all things considered, he thought his reasons were good ones. He wasn't mad at Lydia, but he needed to put a little space between them, so he was avoiding her questions as much as possible. The interruption from the mayor's pet worm had therefore been a welcome diversion.

When the voice outside had started shouting for him, though, he decided that the whole fiasco had officially gone from bad to worse.

"I know that voice!" she said, hurrying to the window before he could stop her.

"So do I," he grumbled. "We'd better get down there before he lets the whole Neitherworld know where we are."

Reluctantly, he followed her downstairs and out to the street, where they were confronted with the wide, beaming, utterly ridiculous smile of his younger brother Donny. "Beetlejuice! Lydia! Oh, it's so good to see you both! Are you all right? Don't worry, brother, I'm here for you!"

"Hi, Donny," Lydia said warmly, accepting his hug. BJ scowled but said nothing. "When we heard there was someone here looking for Beetlejuice, we got a little worried - how in the world did you find us, anyway?"

"Yeah, and can you maybe lose us again?" BJ muttered.

"Oh, I was sent by Prince Vince," Donny explained cheerfully. "You see, after you two left his place yesterday, he realized that he'd better get in touch with me and let me know what was going on. The Fairy Godfather's not someone to cross, after all, and the prince thought it would be a good idea to warn your family, since he might decide to target those closest to you."

"Great. Just what I needed." He sighed. "Well, in that case, shouldn't you be, I don't know, protecting our parents or something?"

"Already done, brother!" Donny looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I've sent them off to the Resort of Last Resort, to stay with Uncle Sid and Aunt Irma for a while. They'll be very safe there - everybody knows you won't go near that place, so no one will look for you."

"That was a good idea," Lydia noted. "But what about you?"

"The prince said that the latest update indicated you were coming out this way, so I took a chance on joining you here. I want to help! We brothers need to stick together!" BJ waited, arms crossed and foot tapping, while Donny took a good long look at him. The enormity of the mess seemed to fully register with him for the first time. "When the prince told me what had happened to you... I almost didn't believe it," he admitted. "But even if you're stuck being human, I want you to know that you're still my brother."

"Thanks. I think."

Lydia, glancing around, interrupted the exchange. "We should get out of the street," she said. "All three of us are a little distinctive, and we don't really know who we can trust."

They trooped back up to the room, ignoring the puzzled looks of Miss Kitty and her other customers, and Donny unrolled a map and spread it on the little table. "Prince Vince sent this with me. He's marked all the known locations where the Fairy Godfather could have stashed your juice, but he wanted me to warn you again that the more you go after him, the more he's going to come after you."

BJ folded his arms and leaned against the wall, gazing disinterestedly at the map. "Hey, wait a second," he said suddenly. "Why's the Fairy Godfather want to keep my juice anyway? I remember - the contract specifically said he gets 'guardianship' of it, but that doesn't let him use it. So what good's it doing him that he won't give it back?"

Donny and Lydia exchanged puzzled glances. "It can't be doing him any good at all," she said thoughtfully, "if he can't use it. So then the only reason he would want it would be to keep you from having it - but why?"

"A favor to someone else?" Donny guessed. "Do you have many enemies, brother of mine?"

"No! I mean, well, you know, a few here and there... I may have pranked the wrong person once or twice..."

"You were voted Most Hated Guy in the Neitherworld," Lydia reminded him. "In perpetuity."

"Whose side are you on?" he retorted, but he couldn't muster any genuine venom - not for her. "Anyway, I guess there's some losers out there who might find it useful for me to not have my juice."

"Like Scuzzo," Lydia recalled.

"Or Jesse Germs. Or" - he shuddered - "Little Miss Warden."

"Or Mayor Maynot."

"Face it, Lyds, we'll be at this all day."

"So the point is," she said, "we need to find out who else the Fairy Godfather could have contracted with to steal your juice. If that's what happened, then we can bring him up on charges - the prince said he always operates within the letter of the law, but if he arranged two contradictory contracts, that should technically negate them both."

"As long as I can get my magic back, I can definitely shut him down," BJ assured her. "The only question is whether they'll be anything left of him once I'm through."

"It sounds like we've found a starting point, then," said Donny cheerfully. "I can check back in with the prince and see if he's learned anything new in the meantime."

Lydia rubbed her eyes. "You should at least stay with us til morning, Donny," she remarked tiredly. "BJ, maybe we should let him take Doomie when he goes."

"And then what? You and I walk across the whole Neitherworld?"

"I guess not... I just worry about him. Doomie, I mean."

He pointed at the bed. "I don't wanna sound sappy or anything, but you kinda look like I feel, Lyds. Get a little sleep, okay? Donny and I'll keep an eye on things."

It didn't take her long to fall asleep, after which Donny seemed to think he could speak a bit more freely. "You can't fool me, Beetlejuice. I know you're worried."

"You say that like I shouldn't be. Someone out there might have cooked all this up just to kill me. And it's not like I don't want to be dead again, but I want it on my terms, not theirs!"

"That's not what I mean, brother. The prince told me how the Fairy Godfather operates; why do you think I sent Mother and Dad away?"

"Yeah, uh, good call there. Better to be safe than sorry. Of course, I'm such a black sheep that he'd probably leave them alone."

"What about your friends?"

"Jacques and Ging'll be fine. The Monster Across the Street doesn't put up with crap from anybody except me; he'll keep an eye on them. Worst thing I expect to happen there is that they clean my house while I'm away." He made a face.

"Anyone else?" Donny asked.

"Well, you're hanging out with Prince Vince these days, so the Godfather'll probably decide you're untouchable. Even he's not gonna mess with the prince. That's really it."

They fell silent for a moment, and BJ was just about to relax when Donny started talking again. "I don't mean to ask rude questions," he said. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, brother. I just want to help. But I have to ask... why is Lydia here? Wouldn't she be safer at home?"

"Of course she would. You think I brought her here?"

"Didn't you?"

"No! She did that herself. I guess she tapped into whatever part of my juice the Fairy Godfather doesn't have in his possession, and it got her here, or something like that. All I can tell you for sure is that it wasn't my idea." He looked over at the sleeping figure on the bed. "And I don't have the power to send her home, even if I could convince her to go. The prince offered to try to find a way to do it, but she's stubborn. So I gotta fix this as much for her as for me."

Donny went quiet again, and to BJ's surprise, it was somehow even worse than hearing him talk.

Chapter Text

Lydia certainly didn't intend to sleep straight through the night, and she had fully expected one of the brothers to wake her after a few hours. "I must have been more tired than I thought," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. The room was colored strangely in the gray light of pre-dawn.

Neither of the brothers Juice were in evidence, which worried her a little. Nothing appeared to be terribly disturbed, however, so she hoped it was just a temporary absence. Had they slept at all? BJ had probably been in more desperate need of sleep than she was.

Stretching, she sat up. Was it really only yesterday she'd been waking up in her own room back home? It felt like she'd been gone much longer, but then, the Neitherworld always did have a way of operating on a different clock. After hours with Beetlejuice, she often returned to the Outerworld to find that she hadn't even been gone long enough for anyone to notice she was missing. Of course, her parents weren't the most observant people, but still.

"Starting to wish I'd thought to bring a change of clothes," she mumbled. There was a tiny powder room attached to the sleeping area, and she staggered into it to - among other necessities - wash her face. There was a light knock at the door, and as she emerged with a towel in her hands, Donny poked his head into the room.

"Good morning, Lydia," he said pleasantly. "I hope you had some sweet dreams! You were sleeping so deeply that we just didn't have the heart to wake you."

"Morning. Where's BJ?"

"Beetlejuice went out to have a kip in the back of your exceptionally friendly car. I knew you'd be up soon, so I've been trying to locate some breakfast. There's not much to be had here that's likely to tempt you, but Miss Kitty was kind enough to provide me with a few of nature's toothbrushes." He handed her an apple.

"I'm so hungry, it looks like a feast. Thanks, Donny." She ate quickly, grateful that at least fruit was an option. "How long has he been sleeping?"

"Not long; two hours, maybe. We were up pretty late. Beetlejuice has a lot on his mind right now."

"I'll bet. Let's let him rest a little longer before we work out a strategy for the day." She glanced around, trying to latch onto something neutral for conversation, and her gaze fell on her camera. "Here, would you like to see some of my pictures?"

"I'd be delighted!"

At least he was easy to please. "My dad set up a darkroom in the basement years ago," she explained as he sat down beside her. "But now everything's gone digital and I don't develop my own photos anymore. It's kind of fun, though, since it means I can carry the pictures around with me and don't ever run out of film."

"I admit I don't know much about photography," he said, following her directions to go through the images, "but you certainly seem to have an eye for the unusual. And you and my brother must have some adventures, by the look of these."

"I could tell you stories," she agreed, smiling.

"This one here, what's this?"

"Well, this one time we turned Doomie into a hot air balloon..."

Donny, as it turned out, was a fun audience for the stories. After she told him about their daring escape from Brinkadoom, he wanted to know just where they'd gotten Doomie. "I mean, I've heard of a car having personality, but yours is something a little out of the ordinary."

"I wasn't old enough to drive in the Outerworld," she explained, "so Beetlejuice suggested we get a car here that we could share. We found him in a scrapyard for a few dollars, and took him to a deserted auto factory. We didn't really expect him to be alive - or whatever he is," she clarified. "But when I told Beetlejuice that we needed a carburetor and that that's the brain of the car, he sort of took that the wrong way. The result was our Doomie." She scrolled through the camera until she found a picture of him.

"And the little pink one?" he inquired, pointing.

"That's Pinky. She used to belong to Mayor Maynot. Doomie fell in love, and... well, his love helped to bring her to life. Beetlejuice didn't believe that it would work, but it did."

"Love conquers all, hm?"

"I've always said that when you love someone, the impossible becomes possible. Even BJ had to concede the point in the end," she said with a laugh. "He's said a lot of disparaging things about love over the years, but I think he secretly believes in it."

Donny smiled, and it was a different smile than she was used to seeing on his face. "I think you're right."

"These are some of the pictures from the other night," she continued, reaching the prom photos. "How we ended up in this predicament - he just wanted me to have a good time. And I did, we had so much fun." She wilted a little. "I know he's not mad, exactly, but none of this would have ever happened to him if it weren't for me."

"You make a handsome pair, you really do." Donny put a hand on her shoulder. "And I know my brother would go through a lot worse than this for you, Lydia."

"Thanks." Her smile was small and sad, but grateful.

"Since when are you two so palsy-walsy?" groused a new voice. They looked up to see BJ standing in the doorway. His hair and clothes were decidedly rumpled, and his expression was only slightly less so.

"BJ - did you sleep at all? You look exhausted!"

He shrugged. "A little."

"Have an apple," she suggested. "Getting some food in you will help."

"I want a beetle. Well, no, I don't, because this body doesn't understand what I like," he amended. "I guess it's more like I want to want a beetle."

"I know you're uncomfortable." Despite Donny's reassurances, Lydia still felt responsible for her friend's predicament. "We're going to find a way to get you back to your old self, I promise."

"Thanks, Babes." He slouched in the chair and, with obvious reluctance, forced himself to eat the remaining apple. "Ugh. Disgustingly healthy and nutritious."

"Well, it'll have to do. I was just showing Donny the photos on my camera," she added, holding it up. "If you want, we can go outside and you can get some sleep on the bed."

"Nah. I'm awake now. Maybe later." He ran a hand through his hair; it didn't really help much. "Let's figure out a plan of attack here."

"I think we should just ignore the idea of confronting the Godfather right now," Lydia insisted after some debate. "Our best and safest bet is to go in search of your missing juice. The only question is, where could it be, and how would you even lose it in the first place?"

"That's what I can't figure out!" The lack of sleep and beetles was clearly getting to BJ; he raked his hands through his hair a few times before putting his head down on the table. "How could I lose some of my power and never know it?"

"Could you have put it into something else, brother?" Donny guessed. "Maybe you cast an enchantment on something that never quite came undone."

"Well... maybe." His voice was slightly muffled by the wood. "I mean, I've juiced a lot of things over the years. But it's supposed to wear off after a while. At least, that's what I always thought they did, the effects didn't really last."

Lydia patted his head gently. "Maybe we need to revisit some of the places we've been and see if we can find what went wrong."

"Are you kidding, Lyds? That could take years! You don't have that kind of time, and in this state I'm not sure I do either!"

"I'm afraid he's right," Donny noted, frowning thoughtfully. "Time's more of a concern for both of you right now."

"Well, we can't just give up!" Lydia protested. BJ just sort of groaned a little. "Look, maybe if he realizes we're not coming after him, the Fairy Godfather will back off. That'll buy us some time. Is there some way that maybe we could track the missing juice?"

"There might be a way," Donny mused. He glanced at the clock. "I'll catch the noon stage out of Tombstone and head back to confer with Prince Vince. If he doesn't know how to track it himself, he'll probably know of someone who can. You two just keep your heads down in the meantime. The sun will rise again, brother, I just know it!"

"Yay," BJ muttered sardonically.

Chapter Text

BJ supposed he was grateful to Donny. After all, it wasn't like he had to come and try to help with this whole mess. He could have just gone to the resort with their parents and left BJ and Lydia to their own devices. Absurdly nice little twit.

He could have done without walking into the room and seeing Donny with his arm around Lyds, though. Sure, it probably made sense in context, but still.

Donny was leaving on the noon stagecoach, so Lydia had gone to see him off and allow BJ to try to take a nap. He was trying, he was, but he wasn't having much more success in the bed than he'd had in Doomie's backseat. His mind just refused to turn itself off and it was driving him crazy.

"How do you just lose some of your juice?" he asked himself, tossing and turning. "It doesn't leak out of your brain. It's not like Doomie needing an oil change now and again. It's there. It's supposed to always be there, all of it."

He rolled onto his stomach and put the pillow over his head, trying to block out the light. "Now I've really done it. And I don't even know what I've done! Can't eat, can't sleep, can't send Lyds home, can't do anything... ugh, I'm hopeless. I just want things back the way they used to be."

That was what he wanted... wasn't it? The human form did have a few advantages. Not in the Neitherworld, obviously, but in the Outerworld it had been quite handy. Lydia had definitely never kissed him in his usual form. Of course, she'd only done it to freak out her father. On some level it bothered him that the chance to wind up old Chuck was the only reason... well, never mind that. The less he thought about that, the better. Bad enough she was here, potentially in danger, unable to get back to her life, and all because he...

"Nope. We are not going there," he growled audibly. "You've screwed things up enough for one week." He paused. "Who am I talking to?"

Fortunately, he didn't have time to listen for a possible answer, because the air was split by a sudden scream - a scream he recognized a little too well.

"Lydia!"

Stairs, he decided, were for the birds. They took entirely too long. He didn't bother to look out the window and try to figure out where she was; he simply bolted for the door and clattered down the steps, through the lobby of the inn, and out into the street.

"There he is!"

A couple of those suits who worked for the Fairy Godfather had somehow materialized on the sidewalk, and one had grabbed Lydia. When BJ reached the scene, however, they turned their attention on him. "The Fairy Godfather sends his regards," said the one who had released her.

"Hey, you can talk? I didn't know that." BJ sort of circled around, trying not to let either of them get behind him. "How the heck many of you are there?"

"He knows you're fixing to make trouble for him," said the other, "and he asked us to personally... ensure that you don't."

"No, really! We're just trying to find his lost juice so he can fulfill the terms of the contract!" Lydia protested.

"Save your breath, Babes - I don't think they're listening!" He felt panic wash over him as he realized they were carrying those violin cases again, and preparing to open them. "Lyds, run!"

He was vaguely surprised when she obeyed. "You're in quite a mess here, Beetlejuice," said one of the suits. "There's no place in the Neitherworld where you can hide that we won't find you."

"Look, Grumpy, Dopey," he said, raising his hands, "can we make a deal here? You go back to your boss, tell him everything's hunky dory, and we'll just let the whole thing drop. I'm not coming at him without what's left of my juice. So let's call this off, huh? You leave me alone and..."

The sound of six musical meeps punctuated the air.

"And what?" asked a suit.

"Aaaand I'll tell my girlfriend not to run you over with our car!"

"Huh?"

They turned around a split second before Doomie's front bumper rammed into them, sending them flying. Lydia was behind the driver's wheel, and the passenger door popped open so BJ could scramble in next to her. "Drive!"

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere, just away from them!"

"Floor it, Doomie!"

BJ looked back to see the bewildered suits being left in a massive cloud of dust. "That's my boy! Keep going!"

"We have to stop sometime," Lydia said, some time later. "Doomie can't keep this up forever, even flying."

"I know, but we've got to pick a spot where they're not likely to find us for at least a little while..." BJ rubbed his face. "What about the Neitherwoods? We've camped there in the past, and there shouldn't be any giant apes around this time to make off with you."

She chuckled. "I wonder how Thing Thong's doing these days. But that seems like a good place. Amid all that green, Doomie should be pretty decently camouflaged for a little while."

"Meep meep!"

"I think he approves. BJ, maybe you should try to sleep til we get there."

"Nah, I'm too wired now. This adrenaline stuff is kind of fun. I feel almost like my old insane self again," he admitted.

She laughed. "All right. Who knows, maybe the lost juice is in the woods? You were doing some pretty crazy things while you were dressed as Grim-"

He reached over to cover her mouth. "Don't say it. Let's not take chances."

They reached the Neitherwoods a short while before sundown, and Doomie was exhausted. "Go over to the river and get him some water," Lydia directed, finding a pail in the trunk. "I'll see about building a fire - we've got nothing to eat, though."

"Oh, right... I ran out of the room when I heard you screaming and I left everything Prince Vince gave us."

"Well, there's got to be something around here that will work."

She had the fire going by the time BJ returned, and once Doomie's thirst was slaked, the two humans set about trying to find something they could eat that wouldn't kill them. It wasn't easy, and there wasn't nearly enough, but BJ knew enough about the plant life in the woods that they managed to heat some water and boil a sort of stew.

Once the sun went down, there really wasn't anything to do but climb into the backseat and make an attempt at sleeping. Lydia pulled her knees to her chest, trying to hide under the poncho; she kept looking up at the Neitherworld's alien sky, tracing the unfamiliar constellations with her eyes.

"What do you think'll happen if I can't get you home?" BJ asked her, quieter than usual. "Chuckie's gonna flip his lid."

"Well, knowing my parents, it's going to be a while before they realize I'm gone," she mused. "I was thinking about it, and I've noticed that time here and time in the Outerworld don't seem to run quite the same. The Outerworld moves more slowly, I think. And you know what they're like - it'll be a few days until it really registers with them. I'm more worried about the school picking up on my absence."

"You shouldn't have come."

"I know, but I had to. You would have, if I were in trouble."

"Always, Babes." For the first time, he noticed she was shivering. "You cold?"

"Kinda. I forgot Doomie's roof doesn't close." The car beeped apologetically, and she chuckled and patted the seat. "It's not your fault, Doomie."

"Here." He started to wiggle out of the suit jacket; it wasn't very heavy, but he figured it was better than nothing.

"No, you'll freeze," she objected. Before he could argue, she shifted across the seat and stretched out next to him. "I have an idea." She pushed the lapels of the jacket apart, then slid her arms around his waist so she was half inside the garment with him. "It's hardly ideal, but we can manage for a night, and it'll be warmer for both of us."

He snorted a little, but softened, seeing her relax. "Sure, Babes. Get some sleep."

BJ awoke after a few hours to find her huddled firmly into the hollow of his ribcage, small and warm. Her face was pressed into the fabric of his shirt, and somehow she'd matched her breathing to his. He watched her for a moment or two.

"What am I gonna do with you, kid?" he muttered. He adjusted the jacket as best he could to cover her shoulders, locking his arms around her to keep her secure, and rested his cheek against her hair. Sleep reclaimed him quickly.

Chapter Text

"So what you are telling me," said the Fairy Godfather, "is that Beetlejuice - and his entourage - escaped, and have now fled to parts currently unknown."

There was some nervous shuffling. "Yes, Godfather," admitted Sonny. "We... we let you down."

He tutted, waving off the apology. "Your attempt was laudable. Your loyalty is without question. That, of course, is what matters most to me. The question is, now, whether I should continue to pursue this so-called Ghost with the Most."

"The girl said they were trying to find the last bit of juice, so they could fulfill the contract," said Fredo.

"And perhaps they are. There is no one in the Neitherworld who would call Beetlejuice an honorable ghoul," the Godfather mused. "But the human is another story. If she was the one who said so, there may be truth to it."

"Does this mean you don't want us to track them down?"

"Not at present. It will be easy enough to observe their movements from a distance. If they take no overt actions to challenge me, then we will leave them alone as I promised." He sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "What puzzles me is the quarry."

"Godfather?"

"They're chasing the last bit of juice. I don't think they've realized just where that trail is going to lead them." He shook his head. "The search won't harm them, but it does raise the question of what they'll do once they solve the mystery."

"Couldn't you find the juice yourself, Godfather?" Fredo wondered. "Then you'd have all of it. Beetlejuice wouldn't even know."

"That would be dishonest. But more to the point, I already know where the juice is. Finding it is not the difficulty, you see. Taking it is the true problem."

"I don't understand," said Sonny. "If you know where it is, how come Beetlejuice says he doesn't?"

"I suspect he is genuinely unaware of the situation. It will be interesting to see, therefore, what he does with the knowledge once he uncovers it." The Godfather stroked his chin.

Meanwhile, at Prince Vince's castle...

"It sounds as though you left Tombstone in the nick of time to miss a minor disaster," Prince Vince noted to Donny, as he finished reading the latest update on Tumblr. "But they're safe enough for the moment."

"I think we finally talked Beetlejuice into not going after the Fairy Godfather. He's going to try to find the lost juice instead," Donny reported. "More than anything, I'm concerned about them finding enough that they can eat. The living just aren't able to process a lot of our food."

"I know. I've put in an order for a few more items for them, but the shipping fees from the Outerworld can be quite exorbitant. I couldn't have them sent very fast." The prince drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne, thinking. "Did they say where they were going to try next?"

"Not really. They were trying to guess - as you probably read - who might be behind the Fairy Godfather's determination to hold onto the juice."

"Do you suppose he is in league with someone?" Prince Vince wondered. "Your brother is an excellent fellow in his own peculiar way, but he has more enemies than anyone I've ever known."

"The list was pretty exhaustive, I must say," Donny admitted. "I don't think they even got very far with it before they gave up trying to name them all."

"Let's think about this. Of all those who dislike him, who would have the most to gain from Beetlejuice being unable to access his magic?"

They both lapsed into silence, considering the matter. After a few minutes, Prince Vince clapped a hand to his forehead, wincing. "Oh, my word. It's so obvious..."

"It is?" Donny looked confused.

"Of all the people in the Neitherworld, who is the one who could potentially derive the most benefit from Beetlejuice being rendered powerless, on the run with the one person he values above all others, and taking part in theoretically comedic adventures, dangerous subplots, and possibly romantic situations?"

"...well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. When you put it that way, you're right - it is obvious."

Yet another transition dissolve, this time to the Neitherworld Network Studio...

"Ahahaha! Come on, Your Highness!" Mr. Monitor's four odious heads chortled, beaming disingenuously at the Prince of the Neitherworld. "You have to admit this is my most brilliant idea ever!"

"I'm sure your ratings are doing very well, but -"

"That's the understatement of the year!" The television executive gestured to the assorted measuring devices against one wall. "Ever since I found out about Beetlejuice's ploy to attend the Outerworld prom, they've been positively skyrocketing!"

"...really?"

"They put the numbers from the Neitherworld's Least Wanted episode to shame! So many people wanted to see him completely obliterated, but this? This is even better!"

"I don't understand," said Donny. "Why would anyone - let alone everyone - be interested in my brother's predicament?"

"Loath as I am to admit it, Beetlejuice has some kind of indefinable appeal to the audience," Monitor allowed. "I have no idea why, but our viewers are genuinely invested in this whole storyline!"

Prince Vince and Donny exchanged incredulous glances. "So the Fairy Godfather is holding his juice hostage for your ratings? Was that in the contract?"

"Oh, goodness, no. This came later. The Fairy Godfather is just sticking to his self-imposed rules like he always does," Monitor explained. "He's aware that we're using it for the show, but he's not actively involved in the program. You might say he's just... tolerating it."

"And the people are really watching this? They're enjoying it?" asked the prince, dubiously.

"See for yourself! Practically every household in the Neitherworld is glued to the tube!" They walked past an impressive array of data recording devices. "This escapade has something for everyone. Will they find the juice? Will they be attacked? Will Beetlejuice ever return to his usual disgusting self? Will he finally break down and admit his feelings?" He laughed, rubbing his hands together. "It's ingenious!"

"You know about that? His feelings, I mean?"

"I think the only one in the Neitherworld who doesn't know at this point must be Beetlejuice himself. I had no idea so many viewers were rooting for this pairing! You should have seen the feedback when he called her his girlfriend during that last segment in Tombstone! I'm just sorry we couldn't televise whatever happened in the Outerworld - unfortunately, our camera cables don't stretch that far."

"This doesn't seem entirely fair to Beetlejuice and Lydia, though," Donny objected. "They don't even know they're being televised."

"Oh, please. Your brother's been one of our star attractions for years. He just sometimes forgets he's on television."

"Would you excuse us for a moment?"

The prince and Donny stepped away from Mr. Monitor, both perplexed. "I must say," said Prince Vince, "I came here with the intention of pulling the plug on Monitor's scheme, so to speak. But if it's making so many of my people happy... I'm not sure I can do that in good conscience."

"I know what you mean. I hate to think they're going through all this just for a good show, but... well, frankly, I'm a shipper on deck myself, as the saying goes."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to leave them to their own devices for a few more days. We know they're not in any danger, and if we find out they are, then we can call off the whole thing. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"I've certainly heard worse plans," said Donny with a chuckle. "After all, the course of true love never did run smooth. And in Beetlejuice's case, it runs more like a hamster wheel."

Chapter Text

Lydia woke when light started creeping into the sky, and was both amused and touched by how difficult it was to extricate herself from BJ's sleeping embrace. They'd both been so tired, and cold too. He made a grumbly sort of face as she carefully wriggled free, but seemed to settle down again. It was a challenge not to chuckle.

Quietly, wanting him to get a bit more rest while he could, she set about putting together a fresh campfire. "Are you feeling better, Doomie?" she asked softly.

He responded with a series of quietly distressed grinding sounds. "I know, you're really pushing yourself hard," she said. "You did a great job saving Beetlejuice yesterday. Hang in there a little longer, okay? We'll get someone to give you a check-up as soon as we can."

Additional grinding sounds followed, of a more inquisitive nature, and she smiled. "I'm sure Pinky's fine. Jacques will take good care of her."

"Meep meep!"

"Let's let Beetlejuice sleep a while yet. He must be exhausted, I don't think he slept much at all while we were in Tombstone." She sighed, poking at the glowing embers with a stick. "I wonder how we're ever going to find that missing juice. I don't even know what we're looking for, really - does it actually look like juice? Is it in a bottle? I didn't think magic was something you could see. But if you can't, then how does the Fairy Godfather know he's missing some?"

"R-r-r." It was Doomie's version of 'I don't know.'

"Was kind of wondering that myself," said BJ, sitting up and leaning over the edge of the car to look at her.

"Oh, you're awake. Should we see if we can find something that would pass for breakfast?"

"Might as well." He gave her a vague, drowsy sort of smile.

"So," she said as they started looking around, "what does your juice look like?"

"You got me, Babes. I know what it looks like when I use it, but when it's just there? No idea."

"Hm. Which explains why you didn't know any of it was missing," she mused.

They managed to find some fruit that seemed reasonably edible, although BJ had to dodge a low-flying squirrel who was apparently targeting his piece. "Just how big is the Neitherworld, anyway?" she asked him, picking apart her fruit. "I mean, I assume it has borders, right? It doesn't just continue forever?"

"Well, eventually it loops back on itself, kind of like the features menu on one of your DVDs." She laughed, and he continued, "If you run far enough in one direction, sooner or later you come out the other side."

"So at least there's a finite amount of space for us to search." She swallowed a hunk of fruit; whatever it was, it tasted okay and it was really juicy. "Where do you think we should go from here?"

"Maybe we can string together a montage," he suggested. "That's the most convenient way to travel."

And so, accompanied by a stirring instrumental soundtrack (possibly composed by Danny Elfman), the search began...

Through the high mountains...

The thick jungles...

The sweltering deserts...

The balmy shores...

Everywhere they could think to search, they searched... but no sign of BJ's missing juice ever surfaced.

They more or less crawled to a halt in an obscure neighborhood; they'd gone so far around the Neitherworld that, just as BJ had described, they'd almost doubled back on themselves. "Well, that was kind of fun, but fruitless." Lydia sighed, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her hands. "At least I got a bunch of good pictures out of it."

"There's that, I guess." BJ was sunburned, which clearly didn't help his mood.

"We've been everywhere I can think we've ever been, and we don't even know what we're looking for. What's left to try?"

"I dunno." He glanced up at the sky, then did a double take. "Lyds, look."

A small package was dropping from an overhead glider, a parachute guiding it gently into BJ's lap. "Looks like it's from the prince. Maybe it's lunch." He tore open the paper wrappings. "Yep. Here." He passed her a bottle of water and a banana. "There's more in here. Huh, what's..."

As Lydia started eating, she watched him pull out an envelope with his name on it. "Now why would Prince Vince send a letter..." He read the contents, scratching his head, and his eyes slowly grew wider and more... she wasn't quite sure how she'd classify their appearance. Frantic, almost.

"Beetlejuice? What's wrong?"

"I - it's nothing."

"Beetlejuice..."

"Really, everything's fine. You stay here with Doomie, Babes, I'm gonna go use that phone." He pointed. "Need to call the Roadhouse."

"Has something happened to Jacques?!"

"No, no, don't worry. I'll be right back."

She watched him cross the street, finishing her banana and trying desperately to see who he was calling. "He's up to something, Doomie."

"Meep meep," the car agreed.

Once he returned, Lydia tried again to question him, but he deflected her with an insistence that really surprised her. It was rare for him to refuse her much of anything, let alone an answer. He devoured some of the food from the package, although it didn't seem like he really tasted any of it. "All right, will you at least tell me what we're going to do now?" she asked finally.

"We're going to wait. Cavalry's on its way."

"What cavalry?"

"Meep meep!"

Lydia turned to look at Doomie, who was practically bouncing up and down on all four tires with impatient joy. "What's got you so excited, Doom?"

"Meep meep meep meep!" He leaned forward, eagerly, and for the first time she could discern the sound of a car moving through the streets. She was amused; how had he heard that? And why was it such a big deal to him? Only when the car began to come into view, and she could make out the pink color, did she start to understand.

"Oh, Pinky! It's Pinky!" Delighted, she left the curb and went to greet the little pink convertible as Jacques pulled her onto the street where they'd been sitting. "Hi, Jacques! Hi Ginger! It's so great to see you!"

"Lydia! Sweetie, you're a sight for sore eyes," said Ginger. "We've missed you!"

"We came as quickly as we could when you called," Jacques added. Pinky was clearly happy to be reunited with Doomie; in fact, the only one who seemed at all displeased was BJ.

"Glad you could get here. The door's set up?"

"Mais oui, it awaits."

"The door?" Lydia repeated.

"Yeah, uh... Lyds..." BJ rubbed the back of his neck. "Here's the thing. We're gonna split up the dream team. Jacques and Ging are gonna take you back to the Roadhouse; Prince Vince figured out how to get the door to your world open so you can go home."

"Go home? But -"

"No, listen. You need to get back. You've been gone for days; they're bound to notice soon." He adopted a cooler tone. "Besides, at this point, you're just slowing me down. Hard enough to take care of myself in this state, without having to keep worrying about you too."

"Beetlejuice!"

"Go on." He made a sort of shooing motion.

"I'm not leaving you!" she protested. "I said we'd figure this out together, I came here to help you!"

Something flashed briefly in his expression. She didn't quite know what it was. "You're not helping, Babes. Like I said, you're just slowing me down. You should never have come in the first place. There's other places I could be checking but I'm not dragging you into them, so if you really want to help, just go home."

"I don't believe you."

He folded his arms, and the way he looked at her... she involuntarily took half a step backward. It was such an unfamiliar look. "I don't want you here," he said simply. "You get in the car, and you go home. And don't come back."

I don't want you here. The words echoed loudly and painfully in her head. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. I've been looking after you for years; it's time for me to look after me. You're all grown up now, Lyds. You don't need me anymore, and I'm through babysitting. Now you go home, and you forget you ever saw this place. We're done."

"But -"

"No buts. It's over."

Chapter Text

BJ waited with his hands in his pockets while Lydia absorbed the words he'd spoken. In all the years of their friendship, he'd never been so cold, so harsh, so unfeeling toward her; to some extent he was amazed she didn't see through it. He kept his face impassive, which was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

"Okay," she said finally. Her pale face had gone even whiter from the shock of his dismissal. "If that's really what you want..."

"It is."

She walked over to Doomie, slowly; he couldn't watch, the ache in his chest was too intense. She retrieved her camera from the front seat, then embraced the car's front bumper as best she could. "Take care of him, Doomie."

"Meep meep," came the sad response.

Still moving slowly, she walked back over to Pinky, pausing in front of Beetlejuice. "I hope you find it," she said quietly. "Thanks for everything, Beej. Oh... here." She pulled off her spider brooch. "You might as well keep this." When he made no move to accept it from her hand, she dropped it on the ground at his feet.

Jacques and Ginger stared at him in bewilderment as she climbed into the car. "I 'ope you know what you are doing, Be-attle-juice," said the skeleton. He sounded more awed than anything; BJ suspected Jacques understood what was really going on, at least in part. "We will get Lydia safely to ze door, and let ze prince know she has left."

"Good. Better get going, then."

He stood on the sidewalk, watching the cloud of dust left even after Pinky was out of sight. Behind him, Doomie was frothing - almost literally. He growled, he whined, he raged, and finally, BJ turned to face him.

"Stop it - just stop it! You think I enjoyed doing that?"

Doomie paused, and made an inquisitive sound. "Why did I do it? I'll tell you why I did it. Because of this letter!" He sat down on the curb. "Listen to this." He unfolded the note from the prince.

Dear Beetlejuice,

Keep this message away from Lydia's eyes. I'm afraid I have some grave news. Earlier today I met with the Fairy Godfather; I wanted to discuss your situation, which he was willing enough to do. It seems that he has known for some time where your missing juice is concealed, but is unable to acquire it himself. It would be an understatement to say I was shocked by his revelation.

How this came to pass, I can only speculate. But it would appear that, in consequence of her friendship with you and her multiple visits to the Neitherworld, Lydia herself has absorbed a portion of your power over time. Clearly this was done without either of you being aware of it. As I'm sure you can imagine, there is no safe way - or at least, none of which I have learned - by which the power can be extracted from her person.

I am uncertain how you will wish to proceed. In light of this information, I can't help but think it would be in the best interests of you both to get you out of the Neitherworld as soon as possible. To that end, I have found the means to reopen the old door, the one by which I used to pick up Lydia for outings years ago. Once you receive this package, I recommend proceeding there with all due haste.

In friendship,

Prince Vince of the Neitherworld

"That's why I sent her away," BJ concluded, folding up the note again. "The sooner she's out of the Neitherworld, the safer she'll be. And she can't come back. If she comes back, I don't know what'll happen to her. I thought... well... if she hates me, she's not gonna want to come back, right? So I tried to make her hate me, for her own good." An intense gloom was settling over him as he picked up the discarded brooch and got to his feet. "I dunno if I made her hate me, but I did a pretty good job of disgusting myself. And not in a fun way."

Doomie made some sorrowful, sympathetic noises. BJ studied the stylized spider for a moment before putting it in his pocket. "I know. I miss her too." He sighed. "I dunno how this happened. I didn't give her any of my powers on purpose, you know? I didn't even know that could happen. But if the prince says it can't be reversed, then it's not safe for her to stay here."

The car rumbled questioningly. "Yeah, I'm not a bad actor, huh? Making it sound like I wanted her to leave?" He laid a hand on Doomie's hood. "I almost believed it myself for a minute. Or would have, if I didn't know better."

He sighed. "So we'll take a lazy way back to the Roadhouse. By the time we get there, she should be gone. For good."

"R-r-r-r." It was the most despondent noise Doomie had ever made.

"What do you mean, how could I do it? What choice did I have? We couldn't keep her, Doomeroo. I guess I've known for a long time that this was coming."

"R-r-r?"

"Impossible, huh? Yeah, you're not wrong. But then, a lot of things about Lyds and me have always been impossible." Unbidden, her words from years earlier came back to haunt him. I believe that when you love someone, the impossible becomes possible. He rubbed his face. "Letting her go is probably the last impossible thing I'll ever do. I'm stuck like this permanently, now."

Doomie needed gas, which gave them an extra bit of time to stall before heading back to the Roadhouse. It was just as well that the car could drive himself; BJ was in a fog. He barely saw or heard anything around him. He just kept replaying those horrible moments over and over in his mind, seeing her stunned face and the devastating resignation in her eyes. At least she hadn't cried in front of him, which was good; Lydia crying was something he absolutely couldn't take.

He'd tried so hard to ignore the truth. When he'd first met Lydia she was young, in that strange in-between place of human youth. She was shy, and sad, and he wasn't even sure what had possessed him to make a friend of this little human. But he had, and she'd just... blossomed. Kind, talented, smart as a whip, able to appreciate the weirder side of everything. And despite how misanthropic he often was, he couldn't help adoring her.

Somewhere over time she'd stopped being a kid and turned into a grownup. A delightfully bizarre grownup, still with a taste for the macabre and a thrill for the gruesome, but a grownup nonetheless. Suddenly they were on more equal footing, and he saw himself as less of a protector and more of a... well, he didn't know the word exactly. What he did know, and did his level best not to acknowledge, was that his own happiness had become tangled up in hers, and without her he was lost.

But if she was safe, then that was more important. He tried to remind himself of that. Nothing was more paramount than Lydia's safety. She had to be okay, even if it meant she never forgave him.

Doomie was almost as depressed as BJ himself, judging by how slowly his wheels were rolling. BJ lounged in the seat, absently turning the spider brooch over and over between his fingers.

It took him a few minutes to realize something was buzzing overhead. That was peculiar. Frowning, he looked up to see a small plane, not unlike the one which had dropped off the package just hours earlier. (Was it hours? His sense of time felt displaced. It seemed more like a week, with Lydia gone.)

"Doomie... uh... I think we'd better pull over." Something weird was going on with this plane, although he wasn't exactly sure what at first. Gradually he realized that someone was jumping out of it, and a huge, colorful parachute opened to guide the figure gently to the ground.

For a split second, his heart jumped as he wondered if she'd come back.

"Beetlejuice!"

So much for that. BJ sighed as the parachute billowed down to reveal his brother. "Donny, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, brother, this is a disaster!"

"...what are you talking about?"

"It's Lydia - she's in trouble, Beetlejuice!"

"Talk faster."

"We saw it - Prince Vince and I, we were watching you on television. Your whole adventure's been televised by Mr. Monitor."

BJ groaned, facepalming. "That ratings-happy clod. But what about Lyds?"

"We saw you send her away - Beetlejuice, they never made it to the door!"

"What?!"

"Like I said, the whole thing's been broadcast live. Someone must have been watching and heard you tell Doomie here the truth about the missing juice. When Jacques didn't check in like he said he would, the prince and I went looking for them. We found the pink car abandoned and disabled, with Lydia's camera on the seat."

"Son of a... where is she?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure who's got her - Prince Vince is checking the camera to see if maybe she got a picture of them."

"Then let's get back to his place. Doomie! We gotta fly! Get in, Donny."

BJ practically broke down the door to the prince's hall, tore past the retainers, and skidded to a halt near the throne. "Any - news?" he gasped.

"Beetlejuice, thank goodness." Prince Vince moved to meet him. "From what the images on the camera have revealed, our friends were captured by Mr. Big and his associates."

"You mean S.N.O.T.R.a.G.? They revived that group?"

"Possibly, yes. I only recognized him for sure, but he definitely had help. Most likely they've taken Lydia to the Fairy Godfather."

"But what can he do?" Donny asked, having followed his brother. "You said there's no way to get the juice out of her."

"No." Prince Vince shook his head grimly. "I said there's no safe way to do it."

"How could I be so stupid?" BJ pulled at his hair. "I never should have left her out of my sight!"

Any fear which had been in his face was rapidly being replaced with an anger such as he doubted either of the others could ever remember seeing. He was furious - with Big, with the Neitherworld in general, but most of all with himself. It was all his fault. "Let's go."

"What are you going to do?" asked Prince Vince, looking bewildered.

"I'm going into that castle and I'm bringing her out. Whatever it takes."

"But Beetlejuice," Donny protested, "you're powerless - and human. If you go in there, they'll probably kill you!"

He paused for a moment, mulling over the words. His hands went into the pockets of his suit jacket and, almost without realizing it, he pulled out the spider brooch. It glinted in his palm, the jeweled legs tickling his skin. There was something oddly reassuring about the weight of it.

...the impossible becomes possible.

He closed his fingers around the spider and looked at his brother.

"I'll take my chances."

Chapter Text

Lydia usually wasn't prone to panicking. She was the voice of reason, after all; when one's best friend was an emotionally stunted ghost with very little impulse control, well, someone had to be sensible. She didn't scare easily and she rarely lost hope.

It was almost a novelty, therefore, that she was scared out of her mind and absolutely overwhelmed by despair.

She lay in Pinky's backseat, trying desperately not to replay BJ's harsh words in her head. His sudden coldness had left her almost as confused as she was crushed. His cursory dismissal, his abrupt termination of friendship (and, she might be willing to admit, more than that) after so many years was more painful than she'd ever imagined anything could possibly be. But it was also, if she thought about it, exceedingly strange. Where had it come from? Had he been hiding thoughts like those all along?

No, she couldn't buy that. Beetlejuice was many things; subtle wasn't one of them. Especially where she herself was concerned - he wasn't good at deceiving her.

The farther they got from the scene of the pain, the less clouded by grief her thoughts became. He'd sent for Jacques only after reading the message from Prince Vince. What could the prince have said to upset him that much? What could have changed everything in such a short space of time? And why - why would that little note make him not only insist that she leave, but that she never return?

"Jacques? What did Beetlejuice say when he called you?"

"Only zat ze investigation had taken a wrong turn of sorts, and Prince Vince had arranged for you to go home," he replied, turning Pinky around a corner. Lydia could recognize the old door to the Outerworld in the distance. "I 'ad no idea he would be so... harsh with you."

"Are you okay, honey?" asked Ginger.

"Shaken more than anything."

"I just can't believe he said those things. I mean, Beetlejuice is a bit of a jerk and we all know it, but he..." The spider trailed off, apparently unwilling to finish the thought.

"I know."

And she did. She'd been reluctant to admit it, since the very nature of their relationship made it almost ridiculously impossible. But if she sat down and forced herself to be really honest about things, Lydia was almost as aware of BJ's feelings as she was of her own - which was much more aware than she wanted to be just then.

"I think he 'ad his reasons for doing what he did, Lydia," Jacques said gently. "Though I do not pretend to know what they are."

"When he said all that stuff, I was too freaked out to think about it much," she admitted. "But I think it had something to do with the letter he got from Prince Vince. He wouldn't let me see what was in it. Maybe I should talk to the prince before I leave, see if he can clear things up."

"Mais oui, zat sounds like a good idea." Jacques turned Pinky down a side street, pointing away from the door, heading for the prince's castle.

It probably would have been a good idea, all right, except that they never made it that far.

Pinky beeped in alarm as they reached an unexpected obstacle three blocks later. "When did zis road become blocked off?" Jacques wondered. "It was clear earlier."

"When we needed a dead end," said a voice. They turned in their seats to see that Mr. Big, along with a handful of Neitherworld lowlifes, stood behind the car to block their exit.

"We're trapped!" said Ginger.

"Uh... say cheese!" Lydia shouted, raising her camera. She only had time for one somewhat blurry shot; the flash didn't work as well as it had on other such occasions, and the camera was snatched out of her hands. A rough fabric bag was rammed over her head, and she could feel something pinioning her arms to her sides.

"Not too harsh, boys! Nyah! Someone wants a woid with the little meat sack!"

She had the distinct impression she was being hoisted over someone's shoulder, not entirely unlike an actual sack. "Jacques! Ginger!" she called, trying to kick her way free.

"Quiet her!" she heard Mr. Big say, and it was the last thing she knew for a while.

When Lydia next regained her senses, the bag had been removed and she was tied to a chair. "Where am I?" she mumbled, blinking and trying to understand just what had happened.

"Oh, good, you're awake." A figure was looming over her. "We had to go to an extended infomercial break while we waited for you to come around."

"Mr... Mr. Monitor?" She blinked at him.

"Of course. You, dear girl, are helping us to create ratings history!"

Lydia sighed. "Suddenly things are starting to make a lot more sense. Where am I? What did you do to my friends?"

"The skeleton and the spider? I'm afraid we had to cut their parts." He chortled. "You're the star right now. The Neitherworld has been on tenterhooks ever since the big reveal!"

"What big reveal?"

"Oh, that's right, it didn't come until after your heartbreaking exit!" He laughed, rubbing his hands together. "Beetlejuice has learned where his missing juice is!"

"What? Where?"

"Why... in you, of course!" He all but poked her in the nose, pointing at her. "The ultimate shocker! You've been carrying it around the whole time, and didn't know it! Now the question is... who's going to be the one to get it out of you?"

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean? Could you please just explain the whole thing straight instead of constantly pausing for dramatic effect?"

"It's very simple." He grinned. "You're here in the Fairy Godfather's castle, which means that in a roundabout way, Beetlejuice's contract is completed. But to fully meet the terms, the 'juice' as he calls it has to be removed from you. So there've been a few volunteers who are willing to... experiment... with the process and find out what's the most effective way to do it. All on the air, of course! This whole adventure has been our biggest ratings extravaganza yet!"

"Nyah, you're forgetting to mention the part where she's probably not gonna survive the process," said Mr. Big, who was standing nearby. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"You're not serious!"

"Oh yes. So what will it be? Will the surgery succeed? Will you die on the operating table? Or will your hero come bursting in to save you? That's what everyone wants to know." Mr. Monitor looked excessively pleased with himself.

"Of course, if he does, we've got a few plans for Beetlebrains," Mr. Big added. "Since he's gone and made himself mortal, he's not gonna juice his way out of trouble this time. No matter what happens, we've got him! Nyah!"

Lydia's mind raced. "Beetlejuice! Beetle-"

"Oh, no you don't!" Mr. Big shoved a wad of material into her mouth, muffling the spell. "You're not getting away that easy! You're staying put until we find out if he's gonna show... and then it's curtains for both of you!"

"Is it?" Mr. Monitor gazed lovingly into the camera. "Stay tuned to find out!"

Chapter Text

Prince Vince had known both Beetlejuice and Lydia for several years. His own early attraction to the young lady had never entirely diminished; however, in light of her gentle refusal of his offer of marriage, any hope of more than friendship with her had flickered and waned, like the light of a candle caught in an apologetic breeze. He remained nevertheless attached to both of them, particularly following their kind attempts to help him achieve rock stardom.

As Lydia had grown, the prince had watched the way her interactions with her spectral guardian had evolved. It was a matter of great curiosity to him, and in truth, he was quietly on the so-called shipping deck right alongside Donny and - if Mr. Monitor was to be believed - the rest of the Neitherworld. He'd seen enough of them together to know just how the story was supposed to go. Some of his poems on the subject (with their names carefully omitted of course) had received more than a thousand notes on Tumblr; this amused him, since it seemed to suggest that residents of the Outerworld were "shipping" it too.

Now, however, the story had taken a very dark and alarming turn. With Beetlejuice still trapped in human form, and Lydia very possibly in mortal peril, it was difficult to say how the happy ending could ever come to pass. Prince Vince didn't often believe in happy endings, really, just in endings; but he was too fond of his friends not to wish for a brighter resolution than the one which was currently in view.

Beetlejuice - or BJ, as he understood the human version was called - was in a state such as Prince Vince had never seen. This was perhaps only to be expected; after all, what had ever been more precious to him than that which was currently endangered? But his anger was so white-hot as to be almost imperceptible, simmering below the surface; he radiated a strange sort of calm, like the dearth of wind which precipitates a storm. The prince wondered if it was a side effect of his being human. The ghostly Beetlejuice, when angered, was a whirlwind of color and destruction, but this... this was entirely different.

"Okay, Doomeroo," BJ told his car, "we've gotta go find Lydia."

"Meep meep!"

"I don't know what's about to happen," he added grimly. "I might not survive this. But all I want you to focus on is getting Lyds as far away from the Fairy Godfather's castle as you possibly can. That's the most important thing. Got it?"

By way of reply, there came a series of distressed rumbles and grinding sounds. BJ rolled his eyes. "Fair enough, I'll ask. Prince Vince, he wants to know what they did to Pinky."

"The car Jacques was driving?"

"Yeah. She's Doomie's, uh... I dunno what you'd call it. Girlfriend? Wife?"

"Ah, I see. I had someone tow her to the local mechanic. It seems that our nemeses removed her spark plugs to keep her immobile, but she's otherwise unharmed."

"Meep meep meep!" was the grateful response. With this concern out of the way, Doomie revved his engine, ready to do his part to rescue his 'mother.' BJ hopped into the driver's seat, and Prince Vince joined Donny in the back.

"Have you got a plan, brother?" Donny inquired.

"Well, first we gotta get past the goons at the front gate," BJ mused. "Once we're inside, it becomes a question of where she is and what's being done to her." His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"I think I can get us past the gate," Prince Vince mused. "Once we're inside, we should split up. I'll go speak with the Godfather; surely he must be able to see that what's being done here is wrong."

"I'll go with you, Beetlejuice," said Donny. "My magic's really nothing quite like yours, but I can at least offer you some protection."

"Guess I'll be needing that," he admitted.

To their surprise, however, the first obstacle - getting past Sonny and Fredo - proved to be no obstacle at all. The castle gate was open and abandoned. "Right, that's not at all suspicious," BJ muttered.

"It's a trap," Prince Vince agreed. "I'd guess they're waiting for you."

"Well, let's not disappoint them."

They left Doomie near the entrance and BJ stalked straight into the building, pushing up his sleeves and clenching his jaw. The other two followed, occasionally exchanging uneasy glances. The entrance hall was as abandoned as the exterior, and as BJ looked around, the prince thought he could almost see his mind working.

"Donny, never mind covering me - you figure out where they've stashed Jacques and Ginger. Prince Vince, you talk to the Godfather. I'll find Lyds." He smiled unpleasantly. "They want a show, do they? We'll give 'em a three-ring circus."

Before any argument could be offered against his going alone, the air was punctuated by a strange, shrill, cackling sort of laugh. "Speaking of the circus," BJ muttered, "we've got company."

Prince Vince had seen Scuzzo the Clown on previous occasions, knew vaguely who he was, and was mostly aware that he and Beetlejuice were rivals. This would certainly explain his involvement. "Ha! Beetlejerk!" he crowed, emerging from the shadows. "I can't believe you took the bait!"

"Where is she, Scuzzo?"

"Oh, this is gonna be great! You'll get up there right about the time they're doing the lobotomy!" Scuzzo did a sort of bizarre pirouette in clown shoes, twirling just out of BJ's reach. "And without your powers, there's nothing you can do to stop anyone! She'll be mincemeat by the time they're through!"

"I can still do one thing."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" The laughter was like the bleating of a deranged lamb.

"This." And with greater speed than Prince Vince would have thought possible, BJ closed the distance between himself and Scuzzo, drew back his right arm, and slammed his fist into the clown's face. No longer laughing, Scuzzo sailed across the room and hit the opposite wall, then fell to the ground.

"Hey! N-no fair, that's - that's mortal fighting!"

"Ow," BJ mumbled, shaking out his hand. But then he was running across the room, grabbing the bewildered pile of obnoxious dirtbag and hurling him into a corner. The quiet rage Prince Vince had observed earlier was gone; BJ's face was now a mask of unbridled fury, flushed and wild-eyed. He picked Scuzzo up and punched him again.

"Stop that!" howled the clown, kicking futilely. "This - this isn't - right! You don't - fight - like this!"

"Wanna bet?" BJ hissed. He threw one more punch, then glowered at the heap of clown which cowered at his feet.

Prince Vince glanced at Donny, who was staring in abject horror at his elder sibling. The prince couldn't blame him, really. Beetlejuice as a ghost could be, if he chose, genuinely terrifying - but he could rarely be bothered. The human form, however, with his oddly soft fleshy face and peculiarly pretty eyes, should never have looked as he did now. He pulsated with his anger, his eyes blazing, the mingled frenzy and fear radiating off of him.

Dimly, the prince recalled something one of his advisors had once told him about Beetlejuice. The Ghost With the Most possessed magic so powerful that, if he ever took it into his head to do so, he could conquer everything in his path without breaking a sweat. And even in his current depowered state, Prince Vince was pretty convinced that he could still pull it off. If they didn't find Lydia soon, BJ might just burn the entire Neitherworld to the ground with the fire of his unchecked emotions. Until he could see with his own eyes that she was safe... no one was.

"I'm not gonna ask again, Scuzzo. Tell me where she is!"

Chapter Text

Lydia was gagging on the, well, gag. The wad of fabric which Mr. Big had stuffed into her mouth made her feel like she was choking. On the other hand, this had the side benefit of distracting her from the fact that Mr. Big and his cronies were discussing ways to get Beetlejuice's power out of her.

"Maybe if we cut open her head it'll all leak out," offered one.

"No, no, cut open her chest!" suggested another. "Take out her heart!"

"I bet it's in the blood," insisted a third. "Bleed her dry, the juice'll be mixed in there."

"Nyah, shut it, you morons," said Mr. Big. "We'll just try a couple different ways until something works. Start small."

Lydia was starting to think she might be ill. It was a welcome relief when they all fell silent, hearing the sounds of running feet in the corridor.

"Mr. Monitor!" Lipscum darted into the room, gesticulating wildly. "He's here! He's here! Beetlejuice is here!"

"Where is he?" asked the television executive, eagerly.

"Down in the entrance hall! He's fighting with Scuzzo!"

"Without his magic? Get those cameras on him, now!" Mr. Monitor turned his attention to the large screen in one corner, and everyone else crowded around Lydia's chair to watch too.

"Whoa, Beetlejuice looks bizarre," one of the goons said, awed.

"No, you fool, that's his brother! Move the camera!" The camera's view swung around obligingly, and a few seconds later, BJ came into focus.

"Look at this! It's glorious!" Mr. Monitor crowed, rubbing his hands together. Lydia's eyes widened as she watched BJ seize the nefarious clown and throw him bodily across the room. His eyes were wild, and his hair almost seemed to be standing on end as he advanced on his prey.

"I'm not gonna ask again, Scuzzo. Tell me where she is!"

"Oooooooooh," chorused the viewers. Lydia, for her part, felt her heart lurch in her chest. He came to get her, the lovable dolt.

"Up - upstairs," Scuzzo whimpered. "Top of the stairs - turn left - second door."

"That's more like it." BJ picked him up one more time. "And Scuzzo... if anything happens to her before I get there... I will be back." So saying, he dropped his enemy, who curled into a ball, and turned away. He gestured to someone offscreen; Lydia hoped that meant he hadn't come alone. Someone had to protect him, and she was definitely not able to do it.

"Have the cameras follow Beetlejuice through the halls," Mr. Monitor directed. "Mr. Big, how do you want to proceed with the extraction? I'm thinking that for maximum impact, he should break into the room at the moment you're about to make the first incision."

"Nyah, that'll woik, I guess. Let's get her on the gurney and set things up."

The second she felt her bonds loosen even a fraction, Lydia started struggling. She needed to buy time, if nothing else; just knowing that BJ was in the building had given her a tremendous boost of courage. The noodniks who were trying to manhandle her were clumsy and easily confused, and she managed to work one arm free. She yanked the ball of cloth out of her mouth and sputtered, trying to form words - but her tongue had gone dry, her throat likewise, and speech refused to come.

She gave them as good a fight as she could, under the circumstances, but it wasn't long before they had her subdued again. They strapped her to the gurney and pushed her across the room, under the glare of a light so bright she wondered if she'd ever see properly again. The surgeon, or whatever the individual was who had apparently been recruited to actually cut her open, slapped a piece of medical tape over her mouth. "Can't have you vanishing mid-operation!"

"Nnn." Lydia was starting to feel lightheaded. They obviously had no intention of using anesthesia - heck, it probably didn't even exist in the Neitherworld. She strained her ears, trying to hear the sound of approaching footfalls. Beetlejuice, hurry - I don't know how long they'll wait!

"Is he close? Is he?" Lipscum was half dancing around Mr. Monitor. "Can you see him? Should I go slow him down?"

"Why - yes," Mr. Monitor chuckled. "That's a fantastic idea. Go on now." He shooed Lipscum out of the room, then immediately turned his attention to the television which was displaying BJ's explorations of the castle. "And three... two... one... ahhh." His four faces were wreathed in smiles as Lipscum was subjected to no less gentle a bruising than Scuzzo had already received. "That is positively magnificent. So cathartic to watch!"

"I never liked him anyway," Mr. Big remarked idly.

"He's coming!" Mr. Monitor finally tore his eyes away from the screen. "Places, everyone! Time for the grand climax! Ahahaha!"

Some part of Lydia - some feeble, desperate, slightly hysterical part - tried in vain to find the situation amusing. In some ways she supposed it really kind of was. Or at least, it would be if she didn't think there was a very real chance that she could die in an exceptionally painful manner. The mad surgeon and a few of the others in the room arranged themselves around her gurney, looming over her like phantoms from a particularly bizarre and horrible nightmare that could very well have been caused by spending too much time around her mother's art projects. The members of this terrible tableau waited, their eyes on the television that would alert them to BJ's arrival in the room.

"And switch to the camera here... now!" Mr. Monitor cried, pressing a button. The television picture shifted to reveal the action in the surgery room. Lydia uttered a strangled cry when the figure appeared, silhouetted in the doorframe, barely able to keep himself from shaking with his uncontrollable rage as his eyes fell upon the scene.

"Monitor!" he bellowed.

"Nyah, you're too late, Beetletwerp!" Mr. Big laughed and, to Lydia's revulsion, jumped up onto the gurney. Straddling her with his tiny legs, he pulled the cable on a small electrical saw. She stared at the whirling blade in horror.

Exactly what BJ did by way of response, she couldn't quite see. Some of the figures who surrounded the gurney moved to stop him, and their bodies blocked her view of the action - or would have, if she'd been able to rip her gaze away from the instrument of doom hovering near her face. If Mr. Big so much as twitched in the wrong direction, she was hamburger.

She was vaguely cognizant of some scuffling sounds, and a noise that resembled bodies falling like bowling pins, and then a hand seized Mr. Big by the back of his neck. "Not today," growled BJ, lifting the diminutive gangster. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Big, like Scuzzo before him, was hurled across the room to smack face-first into the wall. The saw clattered to the floor, and Lydia felt her restraints being undone.

There wasn't even time to hug him, strong as the impulse was. As she sat up and yanked the tape from her lips, BJ seized a nearby chair and advanced on the camera. "Stop! You'll ruin everything!" Mr. Monitor cried. "Stop him!"

"Just try me," BJ hissed, raising the chair and preparing to smash the camera. Those of Mr. Big's cronies who had not already been knocked aside were hurrying to prevent the destruction. Lydia hardly knew what to do or even think.

And then a new voice shouted, "Enough!"

Chapter Text

The Fairy Godfather prided himself on being a reasonable and honorable individual. True, his contracts could be regarded as snares by the unwary, but he merely insisted on following the letter of the law. Deviations from the terms often led to perceptions of favoritism or worse, and the only true way to encourage loyalty was to remain absolutely fair to all parties involved. This credo had served him well over the centuries.

The Beetlejuice incident, as he called it in his mind, was admittedly starting to wear at his patience.

True, it wasn't Beetlejuice's fault that he didn't surrender all of his juice as promised. He clearly had no idea he'd lost control of a portion of it. And once the Fairy Godfather had realized (quite early in the arrangement) just where the rest of it was, he could begin to understand exactly how it had happened. But it wouldn't do to let him out of the terms of the contract on a technicality like that.

He almost relented when Mr. Monitor showed up. Inwardly he was somewhat appalled that the Neitherworld television network was planning to take so much advantage of the situation. He had little sympathy for Beetlejuice; after all the havoc he'd wreaked over the years, he was due for a bit of his own merry hell. But the human Lydia was another matter. The Fairy Godfather appreciated nothing half so much as loyalty, and the bond between the two of them was impressive, not least given the girl's mortality. It didn't seem right that she would be dragged into the mess, however willingly she went. So it was with some reluctance that he consented to Monitor's intentions, or at least, elected not to interfere.

However, he had to concede that watching the aftermath was frankly very entertaining.

The fact of the matter was simply this: at the time that matters came to their objectively frightening head, the Fairy Godfather was not home.

Had he been in residence, he would naturally have never permitted such an attempt on the mortal's life, regardless of how serious the intent. But he'd gone out, with Sonny and Fredo in attendance, to pay a few calls. This was sometimes an unfortunate necessity; he remained at home as often as possible, but on occasion he had to observe social niceties and make some visits. It wasn't fair, after all, to expect others to come to him without returning the politeness now and again, and giving certain individuals the opportunity to show him hospitality was always good for his reputation.

By the time he returned, chaos had invaded his castle, and he was... well, to say he was "not happy" was an understatement.

He walked calmly into the entrance hall, where he almost tripped over the whimpering pile of cloth and googly eyes which was Scuzzo the Clown. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The answer was barely intelligible. Instead, one shaking hand arose from the battered, bewildered bundle and jabbed at the stairs. Overhead, echoing through the corridors, a strange cacophony of screams, thuds, and incoherent shouting seemed to be the order of the day.

"Gentlemen," said the Godfather to his lackeys, "kindly remove this from my hall. I will see what's happening upstairs."

He followed the sounds, moving much faster than his height and girth would suggest, until he finally reached the primary filming room. Absolute chaos met his eyes; Beetlejuice, still in human form, was in an unstoppable fit of rage. As he drank in the scene, the Godfather realized he couldn't exactly blame him, since the arrangement of surgical equipment suggested nothing particularly healthy had been planned for Lydia. She alone appeared unharmed, ironically, freeing herself from restraints which had strapped her to an operating table; almost every other figure in the room had clearly been the victim of Beetlejuice's unchecked carnage. The four-faced television executive cowered in a corner, screaming for someone to stop Beetlejuice from demolishing the camera which would have recorded her grisly fate.

"Enough!" he roared.

Beetlejuice was, at least, reasonable enough to put down the chair with which he was threatening the camera. It was more than the Fairy Godfather had expected, really. As he pushed into the room to properly survey the situation, the human form of the Ghost With the Most abandoned his makeshift weapon and moved back to the gurney where Lydia still sat. Folding his arms, he took up position in front of her, half obscuring her from view and - it might be supposed - silently daring anyone to try to touch her again.

"What is the meaning of this, Monitor?" the Godfather asked.

"It was - we weren't going to really hurt her!"

"Really? Could have fooled me," Lydia muttered. "The saw over my face seemed pretty realistic."

"You come into my house," the Godfather continued, bearing down on the still-cowering executive, "you threaten people who might realistically be considered to be under my protection, and then you have the audacity to claim it was all for show?"

"Well, it was!" he protested.

"Nyah, you didn't tell me that!" shouted Mr. Big, who had finally collected himself from the spot where he'd been thrown. "You said we could kill 'em both!"

"If I'd said it was a stunt, would you have helped me?"

"No!"

"Enough," said the Godfather again. He turned to Lydia. "You're the injured party here. What happened?"

"I was just trying to go home," she replied, "and these..." She gestured to Monitor and his associates, apparently unable to find a word that could describe them adequately. "They grabbed me and brought me here to try to take the juice that Prince Vince says I have." Beetlejuice growled, but offered no commentary.

"Is Prince Vince here?"

"I am," said a new voice. The Godfather turned to watch as the Prince of the Neitherworld, accompanied by Beetlejuice's neighbors and a younger ghoul who could only have been his brother, entered the room.

"Jacques! Ginger! Are you okay?" Lydia cried.

"We're fine, sweetie. What about you?" asked the spider.

"It was a close call, but I'm all right." She put a hand on Beetlejuice's arm, gently guiding him a few steps to the side, so she could meet eyes with the Fairy Godfather. "Sir, with all due respect... I appreciate what you did for my friend. But I think this has really gotten out of hand."

"I have to agree."

"Can't I just give you my share of his juice? I didn't even know I had it, or I would have offered it a lot sooner."

"That kind of power, once given - even unintentionally - is a permanent condition," he explained solemnly. "You will carry it, willingly or otherwise, until the end of your life."

"Is - is that what has to happen?" Her eyes widened. "I have to die?"

"Oh, no you don't!" Beetlejuice spoke for the first time. "You are not allowed to die - not for me, not for anyone!"

"But if it's the only way..."

"Forget it!"

"If I may interrupt," said Prince Vince, "Fairy Godfather, I must appeal to your better nature. Surely when you entered the contract with Beetlejuice, you didn't intend for anything like this to happen."

"I certainly didn't," he admitted. "This is an egregious violation of everything I represent."

"I thought as much. Seeing as none of this is covered by the terms of the contract, wouldn't you say that it renders the original agreement null and void?"

He hesitated. "Never in all my years have I terminated a contract under such conditions," he murmured thoughtfully. "And yet it seems I have no choice. There was nothing in the contract permitting what has commenced."

"So... so you don't need the rest of the juice?" Lydia ventured.

"Need it? Not without the contract, no." He snapped his fingers, and the scroll in question materialized. "For the greater good - and, I suspect, for the preservation of the very Neitherworld in which we live - I terminate the agreement." He snapped his fingers again, and the document burst into a brilliant, violent flame and extinguished itself, leaving nothing but ashes.

"Haha!" crowed Beetlejuice. He stared at his hands and arms as they began to take on their usual appearance. "It's showtime!"

"This can't be good," they heard Mr. Monitor groan.

Before he would actually enact his creative revenge on the ones who had wronged him, however, Beetlejuice had a different objective. He turned around and lifted Lydia off the gurney, setting her gently on her feet. "I'll be right back," he told the others. "Don't go anywhere, because we're going to have a little chat."

He steered her out into the corridor, and the Fairy Godfather, curious, edged through the room in order to observe the proceedings. Sonny and Fredo clattered through the hall, pushing into the room and almost causing him to lose sight of the pair. "Clean up this mess, would you, boys?" he asked, before continuing his pursuit.

"You juice yourself home," Beetlejuice was saying when he was able to listen to the conversation. "I'll deal with all this and check on you later. Okay?"

"Oh, but I thought we were done?" She folded her arms, her expression cool. "I thought you were through babysitting."

He sighed. "Okay, look. I hate saying this - I mean I really hate it - but here goes." He grimaced. "I'm sorry, Lyds. I was just..."

"Trying to protect me."

"Yeah, that."

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah." He hung his head.

She softened immediately. "But..." Reaching out a hand, she tilted his chin up until he looked at her again. "You're my idiot."

"Yeah." His lips curled up in a smile.

"All right. Now I'll go."

"Oh, here... thought you might want this back." He tossed a small object into the air, and she caught it. Her puzzled expression cleared as she looked at a small metallic spider splayed across her palm.

"Yeah, I missed this." She flashed a quick smile. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

He stood for a few seconds, gazing thoughtfully at the spot where she no longer stood. As he turned, the Fairy Godfather stepped into the hall proper, and intercepted him.

"Beetlejuice, come down to my office. My boys will help the prince handle this nonsense. I have a... proposition for you."

"Another contract?"

"Of a sort."

"No way."

"At least let me explain my idea. If it disagrees with you, we will part ways with no difficulty. But I suspect this may be of interest to you - and to Lydia, for that matter."

"Hmm. Okay, F. G., you've got my attention."

Chapter Text

"Now," said the Fairy Godfather, when they reached his office, "please, be seated."

Beetlejuice eyed the chair for a moment. "Eh, okay. So what's on your mind exactly?" He sat down almost warily, half expecting the chair to chain him to itself or something. What's this guy playing at now?

"In the first instance," said the Godfather, gravely, "I wish to offer my sincere apologies for the circumstances in which your friend found herself. That was never my intention and I had no part in it."

"Yeah, I figured." He slouched in the chair, glaring just slightly. "She's safe. That's what matters."

"I also find it interesting that your first instinct, upon learning the truth, was to attempt to send her away."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"

"I think you know as well as I do, Beetlejuice, that you have a reputation for being incredibly selfish. It would not have been entirely out of character for you to act as your enemies did, and attempt to reclaim your missing power by force."

"From Lyds? Are you crazy?" He sat up a bit straighter, eyes narrowed.

"No, but you prove my point." The Godfather rested his elbows on his desk, fingers steepled. "As I said on our first meeting, she is the only one who can compel you to act against your nature. There is no power in the universe, or at least none which I have personally encountered, which could either force you to hurt her or prevent you from helping her. Even deprived of your magic, you proved that the most dangerous place in the Neitherworld is between you and Lydia. I prize nothing so much as loyalty, you must understand, so a bond such as yours speaks volumes as to your true character."

Beetlejuice huffed a little, and folded his arms. "What's all this have to do with your offer? What is your offer, anyway?"

"I'm proposing to draft a new contract for you - and for her," he explained. "She has a portion of your power, and nothing can take it from her; that is absolute. But what I'm willing to do is extract from Lydia a portion of her humanity, equal to the amount of your juice she possesses, and transfer it to you."

"What good would that do?"

"It would enable you to visit the mortal world and adopt the human form you were so recently wearing, whenever you wish and without outside assistance from me."

"All right, that could be useful," he mused. "So what's the catch? And don't tell me there isn't one, because that's what you said last time and look what happened."

"Very well. There is a stipulation, in fact. If you do this, if you both consent, then it can never be undone. It will last for the entirety of Lydia's life and all of the eternity which follows." He leveled a hard gaze at Beetlejuice, which made him feel really twitchy. "Your life will belong to her. Her death will belong to you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Beetlejuice opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again, scratching his head. "No, not really... it's been a long day."

"Then let me explain it more clearly, so that you can be sure to present the idea to her without confusion."

As he had done on a number of occasions, Beetlejuice watched Lydia through the mirror for a time before making his presence known. She was at her desk, focused on a pile of papers; school assignment, probably.

The events of recent days didn't seem to have harmed her. She looked like she'd rested since she got back, and probably had a hot meal or two. He wondered if Chuckles and Delia had ever figured out she was gone, or if they'd gone about in their oblivious way without really feeling her absence. He never could understand that; if she was out of his line of sight for more than five minutes it started to bother him, so how did these parents of hers manage to go hours or even days without noticing she wasn't there?

Ginger was right. The unwelcome, unbidden thought forced itself on his mind from out of nowhere. She has changed. And maybe I did too, a little. Lydia had grown up; the evidence was right there in front of him, the curve of her jaw and the way she crossed her legs at the knee and how she'd occasionally tuck hair behind her ear with long elegant fingers. What he himself had done, he wasn't sure, but it stood to reason that he'd changed along with her. Just a bit. The idea was unsettling; still, as long as the change wasn't bad, he supposed he could deal with it.

He shifted his aspect, donning a courier's uniform, and cleared his throat. "Delivery for Miss Deetz!"

She looked up, startled, and laughed when he held up her camera. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." As he passed through the mirror proper, she added, "I was wondering if I was ever going to see that again."

He surrendered the equipment and lounged in midair. "Il Principe asked me to let you know that everyone's okay," he said, "and he's taking care of all the details. Not sure what kind of punishment he's got planned for Monitor and his buddies, but he promised something 'creative'." He made air quotes with his fingers.

"That should be fun," she noted dryly, inspecting the camera and satisfying herself that it was unharmed. "And what about the Fairy Godfather?"

"Well, funny you should ask. After you left, he offered me a new contract. Offered us a contract, actually."

Lydia glanced up at him, clearly puzzled. "Us? You and me? For what?"

"He said if you were up for it, he'd fix it so that BJ" - he made the air quotes again - "could be around anytime you want. Magic intact, even."

"What? How?"

"Apparently, he'd take some of your alive-ness, equal to the amount of my juice that you're totin' around, and plug it into me. Instead of you being alive and me being dead, we'd both be sort of half and half, if that makes any sense. This'd make the Neitherworld a little safer for you, too, somehow."

"Deadly vu! But... wait, what's the catch?"

"We ask the same questions. You know I love it." She smiled, and he continued, "There's a catch, all right, and it's kind of a big one. You might not like it. And if you don't, then that's the end of it and we'll just leave everything as it is."

"Well, what is it?"

"We'd be kind of... stuck. Together. Permanently."

"Stuck how?"

"Basically, it'd be you and me for the long haul. Not just til you died - beyond that. No gettin' out of it, no take-backs, no do-overs, do not pass Go, do not collect $200."

She frowned. "Meaning we..."

He sighed and raked a hand down his face; she was gonna make him spell it out, wasn't she? "We'd belong to each other. Like -"

Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. "Like marriage?"

"Eh... kinda, yeah." Beetlejuice paused, then snorted. "Maybe you should have said yes to the prince when he was askin'."

"Beej, I was twelve," she reminded him, smirking. "Definitely too young for princessdom. Even now I think I'm too young to get married."

"Well, yeah. That's why I needed to run all this past you." He was surprised at his own disappointment.

She was quiet for a moment. Her elbow was propped on the desk, her fist balled against her cheek; he guessed she was turning it over in her mind. Then she asked, "What do you think about it?"

"Me?" He shrugged, hoping he didn't look like it was all that important. "Well, it's kind of a big decision, isn't it? I mean, I always said if I was ever gonna do it, I was gonna do it once and that was it."

"Really."

"Would I lie?"

"Absolutely."

At that, he chuckled. "Look, you don't wanna do it, we're not gonna do it."

"I didn't say that, exactly. You have to admit it's unconventional, though. Remember poor Victoria from Corpse Bride? 'Can the dead marry the living?' Not to mention, I'm not sure that a Neitherworld marriage would be legally binding in the Outerworld."

She was smiling now, and he realized she was teasing him. Something lurched in his midsection. Not wanting to think about it too much, he started laughing. "Could you see the look on your dad's face if I showed up to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage?" He cackled, tumbling about in midair. "He'd fall through the floor!"

"Ugh, please don't ever do that." She smirked. "Too cutesy."

"That, Babes, is a promise I can keep!" He rolled onto his stomach and hovered, chin pillowed on folded arms as he looked at her. "So I'll just tell the Fairy Godfather no, then, and we'll leave things as they are. You know, I half thought you might go for it just so you could have him around."

"Him who?"

"BJ. You seemed like you really liked him," he admitted, lifting his head.

"Sure I did. He was you, remember?"

"A cleaned-up, friendly me. Weird. It was fun, though, more fun than I thought it'd be."

"Tell me the truth, Beetlejuice. Do you want to do this? Be stuck with me forever, literally forever?"

"Hey, it's not like I had other plans," he replied, trying to be evasive. "I'm not going anywhere. Like you said... I'm your idiot. Nothing in your world or mine's gonna change that."

"And you're going to follow me to college and everything?"

"You once asked me what you'd ever do without me, and I told you - you'll never know." Suddenly he grinned. "Contract or not, Lyds, you're stuck with me."

Her lips twitched. "Didn't you used to tell me that - how did you phrase it - 'love is the pits'?"

"It is! You think this is fun?" He adopted a cranky expression, looking away.

She laughed. "You're my idiot, all right."

Chapter Text

"Remind me again how to work this thing, Pumpkin?"

Lydia chuckled. "Here, Dad. Look through the lens here, and press this button."

"I can do this. Are you excited?"

"A little nervous, but yes."

His smile was proud, and just slightly sad. "My little girl's all grown up," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, we don't want to be late for your ceremony."

Eighteen years of loving and worrying and never quite understanding what went on in his daughter's head - Charles could hardly believe how fast they'd gone by. When the Deetz family had first moved to Peaceful Pines, he'd worried about Lydia a lot. She was so shy and withdrawn - but something about life in the sleepy hamlet had transformed her. She had grown, almost without his realizing it, into a strong, confident, creative young woman. Camera in hand, she was college-bound and ready to take the world by storm.

He'd never really 'gotten' his precious Pumpkin. Her love of dark things, weird things, creepy things... it mystified him. But they seemed to make her happy, so who was he to argue? Sure, she was a peculiar child, but she was also affectionate, respectful, and a good student. And he loved her.

The school gym was decorated in the Peaceful Pines colors of green and white. Lydia went to line up with her black-robed classmates, while Charles and Delia found seats among the crowd. "Oh, Charles," Delia gushed, glowing, "how did this day come so fast?"

"I don't know. It's like I turned around one day and she was grown."

They listened politely to the string of predictably dull speeches, clapping as the individual students were called up to receive their diplomas. Charles did his best to follow Lydia with the camera, pressing the shutter button repeatedly and hoping that at least some of the pictures would turn out well. "How does she do this so effortlessly?" he wondered.

When her turn came to get the diploma, Charles had to force himself to pay attention to taking the photos instead of just watching. When had she gotten so tall? When had she turned into an adult? Wasn't it just last week that he was pushing her on the tree swing at their old house? Why did that seem like it was so far away? He watched through the camera, dutifully snapping photos, as she shook hands with the principal and grasped the ribbon-bound scroll.

And then suddenly, the air was filled with mortarboard caps with green and white tassels, flung skyward by joyful graduates, and it felt like something undefined had come to a very abrupt end.

"Glad this isn't a very big school," Charles muttered as they dodged through a small sea of people.

Out in the fresh air again, they found Lydia, who was chattering excitedly with Bertha and Prudence. "Dad! Get a picture of the three of us!" She wrapped her arms around the shoulders of her two loyal friends.

"Sure, girls, say cheese!"

"Cheese!" Their grins were almost wild - full of hope and just a little anxiousness about the future.

"So what are your plans, girls?" Delia asked.

"We're both going to Boston College," said Prudence. "We were able to arrange it that we can be roommates! Bertha's going to study biology, and I want to be an English teacher."

"Wonderful! You'll have so much fun!"

"Hey, Lydia," said Bertha, "why don't you give me your camera? I'll take a picture of you with your mom and dad."

"Thanks, Bertha." Lydia handed over the camera and took Charles's arm, smiling up at him. Delia arranged herself on Lydia's other side. "Cheese!"

While Bertha showed Lydia the digital image she had just captured, and Lydia started babbling something technical about what the camera was able to do, Charles heard a new voice calling. "Lyds!"

"Lydia, look! It's BJ!" said Prudence, pointing.

Charles bit back a groan. Sure enough, the blond young man was navigating through the crowd. He glanced at his daughter, whose face had brightened instantly at the realization the boy was there, and resigned himself to it.

"You made it!" Lydia exclaimed. "I wasn't sure you would!"

"Took a little longer than I thought it would," he said apologetically. "But I'm here."

"It's so nice to see you again, BJ!" Delia trilled. "We're having a little get-together back at the house, you simply must come home with us! Bertha, Prudence, your parents are coming too, aren't they?"

"Yes, Mrs. Deetz!"

"I tried to have your father cater the party, BJ," she added, "but I couldn't reach him! Is he out of town?"

"Oh - heh, yeah." The boy rubbed the back of his neck. "He'll be gone for a while, actually. He got married."

"You're kidding." Charles couldn't stop himself. He glanced at Lydia, who for some reason seemed to be fighting down a rather strong giggle. "I mean... congratulations."

"Thanks. He's pretty happy." BJ's face was calm, but his eyes kept straying to Lydia, and every time they did he looked as though he wanted to laugh too. Kids.

It wasn't a very large party. Zipporah and Danforth and May and Clyde had all made the trip, of course, for their niece; Charles sometimes thought the only thing they had in common with one another was the fact that they loved his daughter. Bertha and Prudence came with their parents, but as they had their own celebrations to attend, they didn't stay long. Eventually, he realized that neither Lydia nor BJ were in evidence either, and he went looking.

They weren't in her bedroom, which was a relief to his sensibilities. He just wasn't ready for that.

He finally found them on the porch, side by side, leaning so that they were half-seated on the railing. Remembering his previous spy effort after the prom, he hesitated to watch them again; on the other hand, it was broad daylight this time. It wouldn't hurt to watch for a minute or two, he decided. Carefully, casually, he opened the window, then ducked off to one side to peer around the frame.

They were turned to face each other, meaning that he was viewing their faces in profile. BJ was telling Lydia something; exactly what, he couldn't quite hear, but she kept putting a hand to her mouth to stem a tide of laughter. There was a small pause in the conversation.

"So how is your godfather?" Lydia inquired.

"My - oh." BJ snorted. "Entirely too pleased with himself, if you ask me. You'd think he masterminded that arrangement all by himself."

"Well, he did have a hand in it."

"Not that much."

"Still." She smiled at him. "How about your neighbors?"

"They said to tell you congratulations. On graduating, I mean. You have to come say hi one day soon; they still can't believe... well, you know." He smirked. "That I got this lucky."

"Sweet talker."

Her tone was dry, very nearly sarcastic, but her expression... Charles peered through the curtains a little more intently. She was glowing. There were no two ways about it - his little girl was smiling at this boy and glowing.

"Yeah, well, I try." BJ gave her a lopsided grin, then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Charles, where have you been?" Delia asked as he rejoined the others in the dining room.

"Oh, just checking on the kids."

"You don't mean spying, now, do you?" she teased.

"I wasn't spying. Just making sure everything's okay."

"Well, is it?" asked Zipporah.

"...actually? Yeah." He sat down. "I don't think I've ever seen her look that happy."

Meanwhile...

Outside, BJ was snickering. "Chuckie really needs to learn to stop trying to eavesdrop."

"Shush, he might still be listening."

"Nah, I saw him walk away. So what do you wanna do now?"

"Hmm. It's June, we're in New England... this is peak season for June beetles to be in the woods, if you want to go for a walk."

He gave her a reverent sort of look. "I am so your idiot."

"Yes, you are."

~Fin~

(For now)