Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beetlejuice stares at the desk, face turned into a grimace. He hates this. It’s exhausting, first off, and time-wasting, and just plain old boring. And there’s nothing Lawrence hates more than boredom.

Well, that’s a lie. He hates the kids that get away with calling Lyds slurs more, and by proxy the kids that get away with calling him slurs. He hates his mother more, not Mom but his mother, who has a name but he can’t remember what it is because he was too young to know when she left him.

But, still, Beetlejuice hates being bored. He wants to practice his math or his reading or his ukulele but he can’t because his tutor isn’t here and neither is Mom and he can’t do anything without someone helping him.

Mom is trying to get him into private school. Somewhere with people who know how to work with kids “like him,” even though he’s pretty sure he’s the only demon child around. Charles still can’t be arsed to find one that won’t “damage his reputation.”

So he just has to waste time for an hour because he got in trouble again even though it’s literally not even his fault. How many times has it been now? How long will it take them to realize that he’s not gonna stop? Label him a problem child all they like, he’s not just gonna stand by and let his sister get attacked like that.

And this time wasn’t even his fault! He started to reel up a punch when the kid bit herself and went crying to a teacher that “Lawrence bit meeee!”

God, or whatever the nothing-fuck was out there, he wanted out of this hellhole.

—

Charles knows that he isn’t doing a good job as a father. He knows that it’s Emily who gets the text from Lawrence about detention. He knows it’s Emily that Lydia goes up to in the night, even if she crawls between the two of them. He knows it’s Emily who Lydia came out to first (and never even officially came out to him- he found a pride flag and recognized it- asked if she was bi. She looked so scared when she said yes. He hates how scared she looked, talking to him.) He knows it’s Emily who gently tutors Lawrence even though he’s made almost no progress in the last ten years. He knows it’s Emily that takes them on photography outings, and plays make-believe, and lets the car slide down the driveway, and sews Lydia and Lawrence new clothes, and was the one asked for a name, and, and, and, and.

He knows it’s Emily. He wants to be better, really. He wants Lawrence to text him and ask to get picked up from school later because he got detention again. He wants Lydia to come to his side quietly in the night and ask for a hug, he wants to get up and make her a hot chocolate and watch a movie because she can’t get back to sleep. He wants to be the one to carry her up the stairs when she falls asleep watching said movie.

But he doesn’t know how to. So he works. He buries himself in work so that the kids never have to worry about money. He buries himself in work so that Emily can be a work-from-home freelance artist that follows her passion. He buries himself in work so that the rest of his family will not have their spark dulled by the horrors of corporate America. And he knows, he knows that Lydia and Lawrence love him less. He knows that Emily is and will always be their favorite. He knows that he is probably a bad father. But what else can he do? What else is there to do when he doesn’t know how to be a father, only a provider? 

—

Lydia is fuming when she’s picked up from school. She’s fuming when she gets into Mom’s car and she’s fuming when Mom gives her that stupid concerned look. She lets herself stay fuming for a few more minutes before talking about it so Mom can make her feel better because she doesn’t want to feel better. She wants to be angry for BJ’s sake. She wants to be able to do something or change something. So she lets herself stay angry. But, of course, Mom is a good listener and she’s too mad to stay quiet.

“She was being super mean to me. Like, the super bad kind of mean you tell us to never tolerate. And I was kind of just taking it, like I was getting mad but I can’t do shit to defend myself and she’s just being a bitch anyway so I’m like I’m done with you and I turn around and she-“

Lydia is cut off by a choked sound. It takes her a moment to realize the sound is coming from her.

“she-“

Mom reaches to put a hand on her shoulder and for the first time she flinches away. Not that she hasn’t flinched from other people. But this is the first time she flinched away from Mom. Her face crumples into tears and Mom parks at the top of the hill.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay. Momma’s here.”

Lydia crawls over to sit in Mom’s lap, curling up and crying into her shoulder. Mom gently rubs her back as Lydia squeezes her tightly.

“Hey.” Mom’s voice is soft and Lydia rubs her eyes and looks up. “Wanna roll down the hill?”

Lydia smiles and nods, sniffling a little. They scream and squeal as the car rolls down, picking up speed.

At the bottom of the hill, Lydia whispers, “please don’t be mad at him. It really wasn’t his fault this time.”

Mom hugs her shoulder. “I’m not mad at him. Or disappointed or whatever. I’m proud of him and I’m proud of you.”

Lydia rubs her eyes again and sniffles. “You’re so weird!”

Mom kisses her cheek. “Weird is a side effect of awesome, my little freak.”

—

Juno sorts through paperwork while she waits for Miss Argentina to work up the nerve to actually walk into the office. She clutches the attendance record of some stupid school. Apparently a Lawrence Deetz goes there even though that school district has no record of any Lawrence Deetz living there. 

The door creaks open and Juno smiles, something sick and angry. “You liked the little pest, didn’t you? Tell me, Argentina, is this ‘Lawrence Deetz’ my creature?”

The woman fidgets with her scars and swallows nervously. Her voice is hardly a whisper when she answers in the affirmative. Juno smiles and dismisses her. Oh, this will be perfect.

—

Beetlejuice asks to go to the bathroom, just for a chance to get out of that goddamn room (and maybe for a smoke.) 

“Be quick,” the teacher says. Like somehow he’s losing some opportunity instead of wasting time in a slightly different room.

He stares at the old woman in front of him, hair blanching white. “M-ma’am, this is the men’s room…?”

Her smile is too big, too white, and though he doesn’t quite know why, it lands in the uncanny valley.

“I’m just gonna- go- pee-“

He starts to walk past her and she reaches out to grab his arm.

“Oh, Lawrence, there’s no need to pretend around me.”

“M-mom? What are you doing here?”

Somehow her smile gets even bigger. A little bit of smoke pours out of her… throat?

“I’m here to take you home, Lawrence.”

Chapter Text

“I have a home. Leave me alone.”

She grips his wrist tighter, long nails cutting into the skin. He doesn’t wince.

“Let go of me.” He tries to wrench his arm away from her but the grip stays strong.

“Lawrence. Listen to your mother.”

Something deep inside him screeches and he watches his hair turn bright red in the mirror. His voice is more of a growl when he speaks.

“You aren’t my mother and Lawrence has no control of me. You wanted me? You should’ve thought about that when you left me to die in Central Park.”

She laughs, actually laughs. “Left you to die? Do you have any idea what you are, Lawrence? They don’t want you here. You’re only playing at breather, but I can bring you to where you belong. That poor human’ll drop you when she finds out what you are, but I won’t.”

Beetlejuice pulls his arm back hard enough that her whole hand comes with it, tearing at the wrist. He puts both hands around her neck, digging his thumbs into the slit in her throat. She claws at him and he knows that it’ll fuck him over for a few days but right now he can’t feel anything except the adrenaline flooding his system.

“Never talk about my mom like that. If you come back here for me again, I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of you for me to return with.”

He spits in her face and tears her head off, dropping it on the floor. Sure, he can detach his head at will and he knows she can too, but it’s different when another demon rips it off. Especially since he tore it at her fatal wound. Walking back out to the detention room, he sighs.

“Now I’m gonna be in even more trouble. Goddammit.”

—

Emily will always be there for her kids. It’s simply who she is and what she does. So, when she hears Lydia call, “Mom! BJ’s in trouble!” she rushes downstairs.

The first thing she notices is him walking up the driveway, hair a deep blue. She hardly ever sees it blue like that now. She remembers when she first found out about the color-changing hair.

“Hey, BJ?” Lydia asks, carefully painting his nails.

“Yeah?”

The nails are being painted black and white stripes with little beetles on them. Perfect for him.

“Why’s nobody all weirded out when your hair goes fucky?”

He laughs, and God Emily loves that laugh. It’s loud and obnoxious and so unabashedly him. “Chuck’ll kill you if he finds out you said fucky.”

Lydia winks at Emily. “Guess he just won’t find out, then.”

“You know I don’t give a shit what you say. Professionalism, in this house? Impossible,” Emily laughs.

Betelgeuse’s hair turns pink at the edges as he starts talking. “Well, most people don’t see the whole- most people can’t see ghosts or dead people or whatever. As a demon, y’all can see me but your stupid little breather brains make up excuses or hide my more demonic traits. To just about everyone, my hair is just dyed green.”

Emily hums in understanding, but Lydia points out the flaw in his explanation.

“I saw you. I saw it when we first met you.”

Betelgeuse nods, flushing a bright shade of green.

“Mom could see my magic cuz she can see past the veil. She can see the dead, magic, etc. unless I’m tryna hide it. But you. Lyds, what do I look like right now?”

Lydia cocks her head at him (a habit she’d picked up from him that Emily finds adorable on the both of them.) “Like you always do?”

“No, no. How about… What color are my eyes?”

“Yellow sclera with a black slitted pupil. Like they’ve always been?”

Betelgeuse nods, even though Emily is thoroughly confused. “You’ve got even better sight than Mom. Mom knew I was a demon cuz when I was real little I didn’t know how to add a little glamour to hide my more demonic features. But you can see past the glamour I have on right now. To the rest of the world, even those who can see past the veil, I’m just pretty pale. No claws, pointy ears, or yellow eyes. All they can see is my color-changing hair. ‘course I got the stupid gene that makes my hair change color with my mood.”

Lydia grins and Emily gives her a little noogie. “I always knew you were special, kiddo.”

“Yeah, special. Like what everyone calls me instead of autistic.”

“Nah. You’re special and autistic. My little freak of nature.”

Betelgeuse pouts loudly. “Am I special? I’m a freak of nature, too!”

Emily hugs them both close, smudging the nail polish. “All my kids are special little freaks.”

Lydia whines. “Mooooom! You smudged BJ’s nails!”

Betelgeuse’s hair is a bright green - happy. Emily wants to keep it that way forever.

Of course, now his hair is a dark purple-blue and Emily wants to personally murder whoever made it that way. 

“Beej! What happened, are you okay?”

He sighs and turns around, revealing deep gouges in his back and Emily gasps, tears coming to her eyes.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, bug. You can tell me about this later.”

—

Lydia combs her fingers through his hair as Mom wraps bandages over the freshly-washed wounds. The purple in his hair softens to orangey-yellow and Lydia wonders what that color means. It’s new, something she doesn’t remember documenting before, but she doesn’t feel comfortable asking him. Satisfied with the lack of tangles, she pulls his hair back into a low pony just as Mom finishes applying the bandages.

“You wanna talk about it, bug?”

He shrugs, but his hair turns black and white stripes to betray his fear.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Lydia adds. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head as the white streaks fade to black. “I can handle it. Nothing the ghost with the most can’t handle, right?”

Lydia knows it’s an attempt at a joke to get everybody laughing. But she can’t laugh when he’s so sad and scared. So she grabs his hoodie from the floor and locks herself in her room.

—

Beetlejuice looks up at Emily. “Is she mad at me?”

“Of course not, bug. She’s just worried. You really spooked us all, coming home like that. I’m not gonna press you but I don’t think this is something you can handle alone.”

He shrugs and winces. “It’s fine. Just a blast from the past is all,” he says as a hair dryer labeled “past” is summoned and blows hot air in his face. He looks to Emily to see if she’s laughing and score, he landed a chuckle. In return, Emily gives him a noogie. “Okay, bug. Just don’t forget that as your mom, I’m here to help you.”

He lets a bit of the glamour drop for a moment while he makes an exaggerated eugh expression, sticking out his long, striped tongue. She laughs again and Beetlejuice is feeling just about on top of the world. 

“Goober. Go hunt bugs with Lydia while I start dinner.”

—

Charles chews his dinner slowly, procrastinating what he’s resolved to do. “How do you all feel about playing a board game tonight?”

It’s so stupid. He’s their father, he shouldn’t be this scared to play a goddamn board game. And yet.

Lawrence jumps out of his seat, a glimmer in his eye. “Hide and seek?”

Lydia sighs. “That’s not a board game, dumbass.”

“Lydia, don’t say ass,” Charles chides.

Emily laughs. “She’s fifteen, Charles, let her say ass.”

“Yeah, Chuck, let her say ass!”

He puts his head in his hands but not fast enough to hide his smile.

“Well, ass-saying aside, hide and seek still isn’t a board game.”

“That’s no fair! You know I always lose board games cuz I can’t read the cards!”

“Still, hide and seek hasn’t been un-banned since we called the FUCKING POLICE on you two,” Lydia says, pointing at Lawrence and Emily.

“Lydia, language.”

“Yeah, Lydia, watch your fucking language!”

Emily raises her eyebrow at him and god, he has the perfect, most fucked-up family.

“I, uh.” Why is his voice stuttering now? What about the dozen video calls he goes to a day? Why are a couple teenagers scaring him so much? “I actually have a game I think you’d all like.” 

Lydia and Lawrence look at him and he will swear to his grave that they have fangs and a murderous look in their eyes. Tentatively, like feeding an animal at the zoo, he slides the wrapped box across the table.

—

Lydia grins as she rips open the paper, laughing at Dad’s terrified face. BJ looks over her shoulder, squinting at the words. 

“Oh. My. God,” she squeals.

“What is it, what is it?”

“Throw Throw Mosquito!”

BJ looks at her like she has two heads, which Lydia thinks is a hilarious comparison considering the amount of times he’s summoned a second head. She tears the wrapping off and grabs out the instructions to explain how to play. 

“Mosquito duel! Mom and…. BJ!”

Mom hops up and grabs one of the mosquito plushes, BJ grabbing the other. They take their ten paces before dashing across the house. Lydia hears a strangled “no powers during games!” from Mom, which is met with chaotic laughter. She leans her head on Dad’s shoulder while the two run, enjoying the small, singular moment of peace. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

And then there is a loud crash.

—

At first, he doesn’t recognize it. Beetlejuice smells something different, but he doesn’t know what it is. He’s too distracted waving the CD rack back into organization. Then it hits him.

He leans down and looks at the scrape on Emily’s knee.

“This isn’t enough blood loss to kill a breather, is it?”

He knows his hair is blanched white but he can’t bring himself to care. Emily shakes her head. He swallows and nods, summoning a band-aid onto the scrape. Charles rushes up the stairs, Lydia close behind him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, I swear.”

Emily stands up with Charles’ help and a smug grin breaks out on her face. She throws her mosquito at Beetlejuice and jumps a few times. “I won! I won!”

Beetlejuice doesn’t respond. “Does anybody smell that?” he asks.

The Deetzes shake their heads. “Smell what?”

Beetlejuice swallows. He knows where that smell came from. A low whimper emanates from his throat. “Death.”

Chapter Text

Emily blinks at her son for a few seconds before the entire house descends into chaos. She stands stock still as Lydia and Charles shoot question upon question at Betelgeuse, not processing any of the words.

Her hands tremble as she reaches out for her son. Her beautiful, perfect, gross, handsome, crazy son. “Did it… did it come from me?” she asks in barely a whisper. Betelgeuse nods, hair turning a deep shade of purple that was close to black. She swallows and smiles, something fake to keep the rest of the family together.

“Okay! I’ll call and make a doctor appointment. It’s fine, modern medicine does wonders! We’ll all be okay.”

She kisses Lydia and Betelgeuse on the head and keeps her fake smile plastered on. Betelgeuse climbs up and over her, sniffing like a dog on a trail.

“Get ‘em to check your head,” he says simply. Emily nods.

—

Beetlejuice feels something eat at his unbeating heart. Brain cancer. They’d found brain cancer. But it was okay, they’d said. It was in the early stages. Just a couple of weeks of chemo and she’ll be okay. It’s incredible they caught it that early. Beetlejuice feels sick.

—

Lydia grips Mom’s hand tightly. She doesn’t look like Mom anymore, all weak and small and decaying. 

“It’s okay, sweetie. They caught it early. I’ll be okay.”

Lydia chokes back a sob. She’ll be strong, for Mom.

Lydia doesn’t get out of bed. It’s dark and rainy, just like her, and she wants to take Mom’s place. She doesn’t really have a mom anymore, though. The Emily Deetz lying sick in a hospital bed is nothing like her mom.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Only a week or so

more, and then Mom’ll be back. 

—

Charles tells the kids to go to school. They have to keep up with their education. Emily would be disappointed to find failing kids when she gets back. 

When.

Charles reminds himself of this. When she gets back. She’ll be fine. She’s always been strong, carving her own path, and cancer caught early can’t stop her. Nothing can.

—

Beetlejuice doesn’t tell anyone that Emily still smells like death. They’re all sad enough already, and when the doctors say she’s good enough to go home he doesn’t say that she smells more like death than she did when she went in.

Beetlejuice is going easy on her. He’s really trying to go easy on her. Still, he’s running too fast and she has to pause and catch her breath, which turns into a coughing fit, which turns into wheezing, which turns into Beetlejuice teleporting her into the bathroom and holding her hair behind her and rubbing her back. He hopes Lydia can’t hear from her room, which she hasn’t left in a week. He sends a clone to go check on her, but all he feels is the magic returning to him following a lot of pain. He wishes she would accept help. But Lydia got a lot of things from Emily, including suffering in silence.

—

Emily throws up again. She throws up and sleeps and throws up and sleeps and hardly eats anything because it never stays down. She tries to play games with them, to hide or play tag do make-believe. But then she’s coughing and it reveals her location or she has to throw up so she stops running or she’s too tired to make things up. She tells her kids bedtime stories even though they’re both too old and they don’t fall asleep. That’s okay. Emily sleeps enough for the three of them.

Emily can’t get up. She’s so tired. She falls asleep. When she wakes up, she’s back in the hospital.

—

Beetlejuice squeezes Emily’s hand in the hospital, whispering how much he loves her. She’s asleep. She doesn’t respond. He hopes she hears him.

—

Charles orders a pizza. He doesn’t know how to cook. Nobody eats it. He begs Lydia to eat, not even acknowledging Lawrence because he won’t die if he doesn’t eat. Lydia takes a slice up to her room. He knows she won’t eat it. Charles pretends he thinks she will. 

Charles hasn’t been to a grocery store in a month. He doesn’t know what’s edible and what isn’t. He doesn’t know what to buy or how to make anything. He buys a few microwave dinners and decides to

throw some boxes of band-aids into the cart too.

Lydia takes the band-aids when he gets home. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to know.

Charles watches Lydia grow thinner and thinner. He hears his employees talking about how good it is to have a pretty, skinny girl like her. He hates it but doesn’t say anything.

Charles checks the time. It’s late. He doesn’t want to go home, to sleep in the empty bed. He texts Lydia that it’s a late night at work and to get takeout. They only ever get takeout. Charles doesn’t know how to cook.

—

Emily stares at her family. They look so small, so weak. They caught it early, she’s supposed to be better by now, she’s supposed to get better.

Emily isn’t better. She’s just tired.

She squeezes Lydia’s hand as she takes another nap. She was so excited to watch her little girl grow up.

Lydia shouldn’t still be this little.

—

Charles checks the time. He’s been working overnight. He’ll be able to visit Emily in ten minutes. He goes back to work. He doesn’t get up in ten minutes.

—

Beetlejuice wraps Lydia’s arm gently. He doesn’t ask. She doesn’t tell. They both know what’s happening. He smiles gently at her. 

“Do you want ramen tonight?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “I want Mom.”

He lets her rest her head on his shoulder. She cries and he rubs her back. He can’t remember the last time Charles was home. “I know. I know.”

—

Lydia doesn’t get up. She hugs her Magic 8-Ball to her chest.

“Will Mom get better?” she asks it.

She shakes it but the window is too fogged up to show the answer. She closes her eyes and pretends it says it is certain. She has a sinking feeling that it actually says don’t bet on it.

She curls in on herself and cries. She wishes she didn’t have to feel any of this.

—

Charles wakes up at his desk. His back hurts, his head hurts, his chest hurts, and just about everything else hurts too. He opens his computer to the tab with the old house. He and Emily talked about how the kids would love a place out in the country, with more space to run around. He stares at the house some more. Would he be able to go home in that house? Would he be able to look at Lydia? Would he be able to sleep in a bed?

Charles places a bid on it.

—

Beetlejuice sits across the table from Lydia. She picks at the slice of pizza. He hasn’t seen her eat a bite of it. She looks so small. Gaunt, ghostly. He doesn’t want to see that look on anyone he loves.

Beetlejuice makes up his mind.

He gets up and goes to his room. Lydia doesn’t acknowledge him. Once in his room, he takes a deep breath. And he draws a door.

Chapter Text

The Netherworld is both exactly and nothing like he remembers. He holds the sheet of paper tightly in his hand as he erases the door, stopping anyone from following him. Stopping Emily from following him. 

“Lawrence? Is that you?”

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by a figure that he recognizes somewhere in the back of his mind. He knows her. She knows him.

“It’s not Lawrence anymore. Or it is, kind of. Yeah, whatever. How’s it been… Miss Argentina?”

He squints trying to read her sash, like that’ll make it make more sense, but it doesn’t. Still, he’s gotten marginally better and can sound it out enough.

“Lawrence, what are you doing here? You need to go before Juno finds you!”

He thinks for a moment. “Juno? Is that her name? Good to know.”

“Seriously! You have to go!”

“Nah.” He keeps his voice even to hide how fucking terrified he is. “I’m looking for her, actually. But first- is this contract solid?”

He hands her the sheet of paper and she takes it, reading it over.

“Oh, Lawrence, I don’t think this is a good idea…”

“Is the contract sound?”

“We’re supposed to call her at the first sign of you…”

“Is it solid or not?”

“You have to go-“

“Is it foolproof?” He slams his hands on the reception desk, hair a deep red. A little bit of smoke curls out of his nostrils as he huffs. God. What would Emily say if she saw him now? Nothing. She’d say nothing because if he doesn’t move quickly she’ll be fucking dead.

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He smiles at her, tight and vicious. He feels like Juno. He hates it.

“And where can I find her?”

She shrugs, obviously still against his plan. His foolproof, perfect plan.

And then the wind rushes through the office. There’s not ever wind in the Netherworld. Unless it’s accompanying Juno opening doors. Her smile is sickly sweet like the poison-laced candy they warn parents about for Halloween. He stares at her.

“Hello, Juno.”

His voice is icy cold. There’s no place for nerves here, not when he has to save his mom. Not with Emily on the line.

“I knew you would see reason. Finally got dropped by those pesky breathers, huh?”

The anger tints his vision red but he doesn’t respond. He’s steeled himself for this. Lawrence Beetlejuice Deetz won’t bend to Juno. Not as long as he’s dead.

“That’s what I came for, actually. I’ve drawn up a contract and I think it’ll give us both the things we want.”

Juno stares at him coldly. “I don’t need a contract. I made you. I’m the reason you’re here today.”

“Emily raised me. You’re just a sack of flesh. If you want me back, you’ll sign this contract.”

She laughs. She laughs. She laughs.

“You made a mistake coming here, Lawrence. This is my home. I have all the power here.”

He shrugs. 

“I don’t give a fuck. You want me? Sign the goddamn contract. I’m not leaving without it signed.”

She laughs again as her body twists and distorts. “You’re not leaving at all!”

She takes a long drag of her cigarette before reaching out and grabbing him. He stays still, holding out the contract. All he can think about is Emily and Lydia. Emily in the hospital. Lydia withering to nothing. Charles not coming home. Lydia bandaging her arm. Emily in the hospital. Another arm grabs him and they tug, trying to pull him in half. He doesn’t. He won’t bend to her. He can’t beat her, but that’s not what he wants.

“I’m not asking for much,” he says. “I just wanted this fucking contract signed. I’ll do anything you want. It’s in the contract, actually. I’ll do anything you want as long as Emily stays healthy.”

The hands retract and he can’t really shuffle in his brain where they came from or where they’re going. So he ignores it and instead watches Juno think.

“You wanna take this out of reception? Would be a shame to exorcise all your workers. Would really give you a lot more paperwork to do. That’s what I’m here for, right? Doing paperwork? If you’ve got something else you might wanna give me that, considering I can’t read for shit. Anyway, I’m sure your office has a pen for signing this old thing.”

Juno grabs his hand and he sighs. “You don’t gotta drag me around like a toddler. I came this far willingly so how likely are you to lose me, really?”

She growls at him. “Shut your trap, you bucket of shit.”

“Ah, I can see why you didn’t wanna raise a kid. You hate my guts, huh? Wow, finally we’ve got something in common,” he deadpans. Personally, he thinks his delivery is pretty great but it gets nothing but more anger out of Juno. She turns around and slaps him across the face, or something like that considering her long nails drag and leave cuts in his cheek. When she suddenly stops, Beetlejuice trips over his feet, causing another round of insults to be hurled at him. He can’t imagine what a shitbag he’d be if he’d actually been raised by her. Jesus.

—

Juno takes another long drag of her cigarette. The fucking creature is back. It’s hers again. It still has to learn some basic manners, but at least it mostly obeys her now. Hm. The overworld was a good idea, she’ll show them!

She glances over the contract. It’s secure, sure, but it’s a laughably overpriced trade. She gets its complete obedience for the rest of eternity and in return its stupid breather group gets happy lives? Happy lives it won’t even be able to see? She signs it, easy, and watches as it feels the contract settle in its bones. Oh, she loves nothing more than manipulating innocent souls. Not that this one’ll be innocent much longer. 

She sits it in a little desk with a pile of paperwork. It doesn’t actually matter, but she wants it to learn manners and busywork before she trusts it with any real jobs.

“Talk and I’ll bar your mouth shut,” she tells it.

It just nods. Oh, what a good creature it’ll be.

—

Beetlejuice stares at the papers. He can’t make heads or tails of them, but he can’t ask for help, so he just stamps things that look important. Honestly, he doesn’t even get what all the paperwork is about. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it, for the Deetzes. 

—

Charles comes home and grabs Lydia, shoving her in the car. He’s tired and his face has the look of a man sleeping at his desk for a month straight. Probably because that’s what he’s been doing. His voice is a hoarse whisper when he talks to Lydia, just to get her to shut up because of his splitting migraine.

“It’s time to go say our goodbyes.”

Lydia doesn’t respond, which he honestly prefers. It’s a quiet drive, would be peaceful if they weren’t going to wish Emily goodbye. Wish her goodbye, like she’s going on a trip. What a stupid thought. She’s dying. Never coming back. This is the last time they’ll ever have to tell her they love her. 

Charles squeezes Emily’s hand as the monitor lets out a shrill squeal. The doctors rush in and push them out, doing CPR and whatever other doctor shit Charles can’t comprehend. It doesn’t matter to him. She’s gone. She’s dead. His whole world. 

And then there’s a beep.

And another.

And another.

And then her heart is beating normally and he’s allowed to get close to her again. And then she wakes up. She hasn’t woken up in months but now she’s awake. He gasps. 

There are tears, and he doesn’t know which ones are his, which are Emily’s, and which are Lydia’s. But it doesn’t matter. Because she’s awake. She’s awake. She’s alive.

He hugs her tight, even though she laughs and says “gentle,” and her voice is still weak and breathy. Because she’s alive.

And then she looks around.

“Where’s Betelgeuse?”

And the world collapses.