** Authors Note**
So, just updated this chapter. Made a few changes and extended it. I really hope you all enjoy. The clue is in the title, so you kinda know what to expect. xD
Also, I just want to mention it'll be a while before I can work on the next instalment. Unfortunately I'm having surgery on my eyes, so I won't be able to see in order to read and write for a while. I'm sorry, it really sucks. I'm so keen to carry on with this fic. So I apologise in advance for the upcoming delay, and I hope you won't be disheartened by it. I promise I won't let this story die. I will continue with it as soon as possible.

As usual, massive thanks for all your views/comments/votes. You guys are fantastic.

....one last thing, the movie featured in this chapter is 'The Horror of Frankenstein' starring Ralph Bates. Just in case you're curious :)

***********************************

"Did you say this was your favourite movie?"
Beetlejuice stretched, and the sound of several bones cracking accompanied his actions, making Lydia flinch.

"No, I said it was one of my favourite's. My tastes are varied but I love these old horror movies, and this one, the 'horror of Frankenstein' is so good."

"You mean in a 'it's so bad it's good' kinda way? Like me?"
He mused, as if to himself.

"No. Well yeah, maybe."

"What, s'ya don't think I'm bad?"
He frowned, sounding rather deflated.

"No I wasn't talking about you, I meant these Hammer Horror movies. They're classic."
She pointed out.

"Yeah, kinda like me as well."

Shifting slightly in order to make herself more comfortable, she chanced a look in his direction. Despite feeling decidedly more at ease thanks to the alcohol, she was still struggling with feelings of awkwardness after what had happened between them earlier.

"No, I mean they're good."
She continued, still focusing on the subject in hand.

"Gotta say I think they're pretty fuckin' bad, but that's what makes 'em good."
Clasping the glass bottle in his deathly hand, he lifted it to his lips and drained the remnants of it's contents.

"Yeah I guess I know what you mean. They're cheesy and dated now, and so clichéd it hurts, but they're not like 'bad' bad."

"But it's the bad clichés that make 'em good, and not just 'bad' bad.."
He pointed a long finger at her, almost accusingly.
"...you just don't know what's good for bad."

Pouting slightly, Lydia's small brow furrowed in confusion.
"Okay this conversation is starting to hurt my brain."

"Nope, that'll be the liquor. You'll feel as rough as poor old Frankie there, come the mornin'"
He sniggered, indicating towards the television screen.

"It is the morning now, it's passed midnight. And Frankie, um I mean Frankenstein, is the doctor not the monster. Why does everyone always get that mixed up? Have you never read the book?"
She whined, drunkenly.

Raising a slanted eyebrow, he feigned offence.
"Oh, so 'cause I'm dead ya' just presume I read all these creepy horror stories and shit? Like, 'ooooh, I'm a ghost, so I just hang out in my tomb, watching Tales from the Crypt'.."

"No, not at all. It's just that book is a literally classic..."
She paused, noticing her own mistake.
"I mean literary, it's a literary classic."

"Hey, have you forgot who you're talkin' to here? I was around when the damn book was written, I could've bought a copy and had the chick autograph it if I wanted. But I gotta tell ya', reality is far fuckin' creepier than any work of fiction. Especially when you're an afterlife kid. So, a story about some patchwork stiff having a lightning bolt shoved up his ass, then going on a killer rampage because of identity issues, didn't really spook me all that much."

Twisting her body around in order to look at him fully, her chocolate eyes rounded in awe. The film she loved so much, now fading into nothing more than background noise.
"God! You really are that old. That's amazing. What was life like back then?"

He shot her a bemused look, and she clamped her hand to her mouth, embarrassed by her obvious faux pas.
"Sorry, I mean...um..existence? What was it like being around during that time? It must've been incredible, what with Mary Shelly, and Byron-"

"Let me just stop ya right there before you get all carried away. It wasn't all that excitin' actually. All powdered wigs, and syphilis, pretentious pricks, and snobby sluts from what I saw of it, so I didn't hang around long. It was a real drag."
He yawned, his sallow skin stretching tight over his high cheekbones.

"So, now you've ruined the concept of Frankenstein for me forever, tell me something....you know how you mentioned being over six hundred years old?"

"Uh huh.."

"Well, when exactly were you born?"
She asked cautiously, hoping he wouldn't become aggrieved by her questioning. But they did have an agreement in place now, so that did afford her some leeway.

"Which time?"
He asked distractedly, and immediately regretted it, the urge to kick himself up the ass was almost excruciating. Never before had his quick wits and smart mouth failed him so badly, and he cursed himself under his breath. He'd let his guard down, his defences had slipped. Juno would have a field day with him now, he'd be strung up by the balls in front of the counsel and beaten like a piñata.

Lydia meanwhile, was on her knees, her excitement barely containable. She reminded him of an inquisitive child that had just been told unicorns really existed, and that they fart rainbows and shit glitter.
"You mean you've been reincarnated? So that's an actual real thing? God! This is amazing!"

"Alright, alright. So it's a real thing, no need to cream over it."
He remarked crudely with a quirk of the lip.
"Just don't fuckin' go around advertising it okay? You breathers' aren't supposed to know, and if anyone finds out I told 'ya then it's my balls on the chopping block."

"Okay, I won't say anything to anybody. But that's just...wow. I can't believe it."
She fell silent for a moment, whilst digesting this new information. He could practically see the cogs turning inside her mind, and knew at least a dozen or so questions would be heading his way real soon.
"How many times have you been born again?"
She asked after a long pause, proving his suspicions right.

Heaving a huge sigh, his head lolled back against the pillows in an attempt to display his exasperation. He was preparing a snarky comeback when he suddenly remembered the deal they'd struck, and his sister's words of advice echoed around inside his head. Maybe opening up, just a little, wouldn't do any harm. But it wasn't something he was accustomed to doing. Still, he might as well just get it all out of the way, then surely she'd run out of questions to ask at some point.
"Three times..."
He replied eventually, and she could hear the reluctance in his voice.
"...and before you ask, don't bother I'll tell ya. My first time was in 1383, yeah the good old middle ages, they were loads'a fun. I managed to swerve the black death, which pretty much wiped out most of Europe, but I guess I got lucky, and enjoyed a long life of sinful debauchery. That is until I got finished off by accidental lead poisoning. It was a common fuckin' hazard back then. Those idiots used to coat cups, tiles, and plates in that shit. Which ain't gonna end well for anybody...Then my next go was in 1839, gotta say I didn't last too long that time, thanks to cholera seeing me off at the ripe old age of fifteen. Again, drinking filthy water from the Thames ain't a bright idea. But hey, shit happens, right?"

Stunned into silence, Lydia's excited expression had now been replaced by one of utter horror. She felt suddenly incredibly sad on his behalf, and her expressive eyes gave her away.

"Don't.."
He warned, frowning deeply at her and waggling his finger in her face.
"Don't be sorry for me. Shit, I can read you like a book. That's how people take advantage, d'ya know that? But don't you dare feel pity for me, I don't need it or want it."

She swallowed, trying to process everything he'd just told her. She wanted to hug him, but didn't dare. Yet still the urge to try and comfort him even though he apparently didn't need it, was overwhelming.
"I'm sorry."
She croaked, somewhat feebly.

"Why?"
He snorted loudly,
"It's not your fault."

"No but, it's just so...sad, and horrible. I mean, lead poisoning and cholera? And you were so young the second time around, it's awful."

"No, it's life."
He corrected,
"Like I said, shit happens. It happens all the goddamn time. It's all part of the never ending cycle. People are born, they live, and then they die of somethin' or another. Like your buddies upstairs, when it's your time it's your time. No point cryin' over it."

"I guess."
She responded in a small voice.
"But what about your third life? Does everybody get three?"

Visibly bristling, he reached up and scratched the back of his neck with a long fingernail.
"The last time I was reborn was in 1920, and I bit the dust in 1956....And no, you're supposed to get twelve, twelve shots at it...one for each sign of the fuckin' zodiac or some astrology bullshit."

"Really? But you've only lived three lives, does that mean you'll be reincarnated again?"

"No, three's the limit for me babe. It's my magic number...and can you stop using that word 'reincarnation'? It's so typically fuckin' mortal."

"Sorry, but I am mortal."
She reminded him with an almost apologetic smile.
"So how come you only get three lives when everyone else gets twelve?"

"Because the last time, instead of shit happening to me, I happened to shit."
He forced a strained laugh, but it was tinged with bitterness.
"And I didn't say everyone gets twelve, I said you're supposed to."

Blinking rapidly as she analysed the hidden meaning behind his cryptic words, a sudden realisation struck her and for a minute she felt as if she herself had swallowed a lead weight.
"You happened to shit....does that mean you...killed yourself?"

He didn't answer, and purposely made a point of avoiding her eyes. Making her feel sick, and sad all at once, and it wasn't due to the whiskey she'd drank.
"That's why you asked.."
She pondered aloud.

"Asked what?"
He barked.

"When we first met. I said I wanted in, you know...to be dead. And you asked why."

"Yeah 'cause it's a stupid-ass thing to want."

"Yeah but, you actually seemed to care...I mean, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but when you asked me why, for a split second you sounded and looked concerned."
She recalled, hoping her emotions wouldn't get the better of her. She felt certain that he'd be offended if she were to start crying.

"Concerned? Pfft. You kids and your imaginations....anyway if I did, then it was only 'cause I know first hand how insufferable the afterlife is."
He lied, reluctant to admit she was right, he slipped on his usual mask of indifference.
"Bureaucracy bullshit, that's what it is. It's fuckin' soul destroying babe. Soul destroying."

"Otho once mentioned that people who commit suicide have to become civil servants on the other side."

Conjuring a lit cigarette, Beetlejuice looked genuinely surprised by this piece of information.
"What, round boy? He said that? Shit, the guy's smarter than he looks. I could've sworn when I looked into those piggy eyes I saw straight to the back of his head."

Lydia giggled, grateful for the lift in mood, but her relief was to be short lived, as he took a slow drag on his cigarette, eyeing her steadily.
"So, uh, what's the story with you and that Brett guy?"

Perceptibly shuddering, she was about to tell him she didn't want to discuss it, when she met his eyes and was struck by the rawness she saw there, making her hesitate. He'd just bared his soul to her, as it were, he'd recounted some of the horrors from his past, and although she longed to press him further on the subject of reincarnation, and the circumstances surrounding his suicide, she sensed that he'd shared enough for now.
The least she owed him was some insight into her own past, and in comparison, it wasn't nearly as traumatising as what he'd endured during his lifetimes.
"Brett...hmm, well. When I first met him, he had this long black hair, an earring, and he wore eyeliner."

"So he's more of a pirate than a surfer dude?"
He chuckled, but his laughter quickly dispersed when she shot him a withering look.

"I suppose I thought he was some kind of kindred spirit, I know that sounds lame but he was like a social outsider too."
She continued apprehensively, affixing her eyes on the middle distance.
"Delia's on the local arts committee with his mom. We met at one of their soirée's, and we began hanging out after school. He goes to the all boys school on the other side of town-"

"You mean they still have separate schools in this shitty town? Even now after all this time?"
He interrupted, quizzically. Completely throwing her for a moment.

"Um, yes. How do you know about that?"

"Nuthin' it don't matter, carry on."
He urged, gesturing wildly with his hands, prompting her to continue.

"Okaaay...well anyway, we got along, and I liked him a lot. He played guitar and would write me songs-"

"Aww hell, don't tell me you fell for that old bunch of crap?"
He cut in again, unable to remain silent even though it wasn't for want of trying.
"That's one of the oldest tricks in the book, write a chick some poetry, play a poxy musical instrument and voilà! Home run! Her pants practically fall off by themselves."

"Ugh, well I was obviously gullible, but he seemed genuine enough at the time. I still like to believe that he just changed, and didn't have it all planned from the start."
Laying down now on her side of the bed, she tucked a slim arm beneath her pillows, and brought her knees up towards her chest defensively. Subconsciously mimicking the foetal position.
"After a while he began to change, he ditched the hair dye and eyeliner, got a stupid haircut and started dressing differently. Which was his choice, but he wanted me to do the same...he kept dropping hints about how I'd be prettier if I didn't look so sombre, and he even bought me a few things that were definitely not my style."

"He said that? Dick. Well, I hope you told him to kiss your ass."

"Not exactly. But I wasn't going to change just to fit in with his new image overhaul, and the idiot friends he'd made. So I wasn't willing to budge."

"So what happened then? Was that when he traded you in for the air head cheerleader?"
Following her lead, he lay down opposite her, mirroring her position on the bed. Had she not been quite so tipsy and tired, she would've objected to his dirty great boots scuffing up her bedclothes, but at that moment in time she couldn't have cared less.

"No. He, well...other stuff happened before that."
She admitted quietly, feeling the old sting of humiliation flush her cheeks.
"First he sort of pushed me into the whole sex thing...and then there was the pictures."

"Pictures?"
He echoed, sucking on his cigarette with growing unease. He was almost starting to wish he hadn't opened up this particular can of worms now. It was bound to be upsetting for her, and to his surprise, his own agitation was increasing also.
"And what'd ya mean by pushed you into the sex stuff? Was the jerk just trying his luck, or was he like full-on pressurising ya?"

Taking a deep breath, Lydia closed her eyes now in embarrassment.
"He did pressure me, but I could've stood my ground instead of just giving in. And the picture thing, he expressed an interest in photography. I used to help him and give him pointers. He said I was beautiful, and managed to persuade me to pose for him...you know, au naturel."

An unfamiliar feeling began twisting inside of Beetlejuice's gut, a feeling that could only be defined as inexplicable jealousy. Had his eyes not been green already, then they would've turned green with envy. And he was neither wiling, nor sober enough to examine the reasons behind it.
"You mean you let the prick take naked photographs of you? Don't dress it up, it is what it is."
He huffed, gruffly.

Her eyes snapped open, and she frowned at him. Her voice now threatening to crack with emotion.
"Okay, so I was an idiot. I know this now. But at the time, we'd gotten close over the period of a whole year, I slept with him once, I thought he loved me, and I trusted him. How was I to know he'd seduced me for a bet? And then took pictures to show to his friends, like some sordid, twisted souvenir or proof. Like 'here's the weird frigid girl, look what I got her to do, aren't I fucking cool'."

"Whoa! Wait a second there, rewind..."
He snapped sharply, and his hands balled into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms would've drawn blood had it been possible.
"...he did what?!"

Startled by the sudden violence in his tone, Lydia fidgeted nervously. Confused by his reaction.
"Well, I should've expected it really. Like you said before, I fell for his false flattery and charm. I was a naive imbecile-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare blame yourself, you better cancel that crap right now, I don't wanna hear it. Just 'cause you're a little wet behind the ears doesn't mean you deserve to be treated like shit, okay? Don't make excuses for the cock-juggling thunder-cunt."
He raged, the yellow flecks in his eyes expanded and glowed, making them look fierce and frightening.

"O-okay."
She stammered nervously, and for a fleeting moment she panicked, as the realisation struck her once again that this wild supernatural force of nature, this unpredictable, potentially hazardous entity, was free to run rampant at will, and the slight prickle of fear danced across her skin, making her tingle all over.

"D'ya want me to go rip his dick off for 'ya?"
He was asking now, brusquely juicing his cigarette away, and she swore she could hear his teeth grinding.

"No. He's really not even worth the effort."
She couldn't help but smile slightly at his offer, and judging by the crazed look on his face, she wouldn't have put it passed him to actually do such a thing.
"But thank you for caring."

For want of something better to do, he reached out and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, as though trying to convey some form of unspoken comfort without invading her personal space, which she sensed and gladly accepted. But for once she silently longed for closeness, for him to be hands-on, and enfold her roughly in his arms.
Straightening her legs, she gently draped her arm across his waist.
Needing no further prompting, he reciprocated the gesture by wrapping a strong arm around her, bringing her closer, enabling her to tuck her head beneath his chin, burying her face against his chest.
They lay for several minutes, each of them in quiet contemplation, as the dramatic music and blood-curdling screams continued to ring out from the television.

"You know, in one of those crazy dreams I had of you, there was this weird bull guy who wanted to marry me.."
She mumbled, somewhat incoherently now.
"...but you came and rescued me."

"Yeah?"
He sniggered, and playfully jabbed her in the ribs, causing her to squirm slightly.
"Well that's obviously 'cause I was stoppin' you from becoming a bigamist."

She emitted a stifled laugh, and contentedly breathed in his earthy scent.
"I should really send you back."
She voiced her thoughts aloud, her eyes now growing increasingly heavy.

"You're probably right, but that doesn't mean you have to."
He retorted dryly, hoping with every fibre of his being that she wouldn't. He was liking this a lot. The freedom, and the unexpected benefits that were accompanying it.

"And if I leave you out, where are going to sleep?"

"Uh, let's see, let me think, um' how about under the sink?"
His tone was heavily laden with playful sarcasm, and feigned hurt.
"I mean, you're fuckin' kiddin' me right? You let me play with your pussy, but you ain't up for sharing a bed. Now there's gratitude for you. That's ruthless babe, fuckin' ruthless."

"Agh, BJ...can you please not be so crass?"
Thankful that he couldn't see her blushes, she cringed at his coarseness.
"I just think if you're going to stay out, then it might be best if you sleep elsewhere...like on the floor. "

"Why though, dont'cha trust yourself to keep your hands off me, huh? Well that's understandable, but shucks...we are married after all."

"Oh, and no spitting, okay? Or any other nastiness like that.."

"Yeah yeah, and I promise not to piss up the furniture, or shit on the rug either."

"...And you should really sleep on the floor...because..."
Her words dissolved now, as she drifted off into a soft slumber.

"Yeah, and when have I ever done anything I should do?"
He scoffed, smiling against her hair.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The following morning she awoke with a start, wincing slightly at the midwinter sun that streamed in through the cracks in her burgundy drapes, assaulting her sensitive eyes with it's brightness.
Her head felt like cotton wool, and her mouth felt as though she'd been eating sandpaper in her sleep.
She shifted slightly, then all at once became aware of someone behind her, she could feel their body lay against her back. It felt decidedly cold, and suddenly the events that had taken place the previous night gradually came seeping back, like sand through an hourglass.
Oh god, she'd called his name. She'd called his name and not put him back. And he was in bed with her. They'd somehow fallen asleep together, it hadn't been a dream.
Her heavy eyes flicked towards her nightstand, and came to rest on the small pink snake, coiled up quietly against the glass of the small vivarium. That hadn't been a dream either. Oh dear god, how was she going to explain that to her father and Delia?
But, most importantly....she gingerly lifted the cover, and pulled up her nightshirt, revealing a trail of red scratches, which stood out vividly against her milky white thighs. She took a sharp intake of breath. Oh god in heaven, that had really happened too. They'd kissed and he'd touched her in the most intimate of ways. Oh god, oh god, oh god...

Just then she felt him stir behind her, and she hesitantly turned in the bed. He hadn't slept on the floor. He was in her bed, actually in it. He was wearing his robe now. And they'd been spooning...
Silently she prayed that he wasn't completely naked beneath that robe, the very thought of it terrified and tantalised her in equal measures. And she reproached herself for harbouring such inappropriate thoughts. This wasn't supposed to be happening, this hadn't happened in her dreams. She couldn't possibly be sexually attracted to him. It was wrong. So wrong.

Prising open a dark eyelid, he grinned at her impishly.
"Sleep well honey? How's your head? I'll bet'cha feeling like death, huh? If that's the case you can always feel me."

Sitting up abruptly, and feeling strangely self conscious about how she looked, she ran her hands through her tousled hair. Smoothing it down as best she could. Damn, she really shouldn't care how she looked. She'd never experienced this before. She'd never shared her bed with a man before over night.
"You, you're not on the floor."
She remarked needlessly, painfully aware of how much she sounded like Delia.

"Ten outta ten for observation. See, I knew you were bright, that's why I married you. I mean boy can I pick 'em, how lucky am I? My wife's got brains as well as beauty. But what's the big deal anyway? I behaved didn't I? I didn't fondle you in your sleep. I'd rather save that for when you're awake, then you can fully appreciate it, and thank me afterwards."
He winked at her, and she felt the heat rise in her face.

"Beetle-uh, I mean BJ.."
She corrected herself quickly.
"Can you just, stop with the sexual stuff, for one minute...please? It makes it hard for me to focus, and it's kind of awkward."

"Well please can you just stop calling me fuckin' BJ?"
He fired back, propping himself up on one elbow.
"And I'll tell you what's hard and awkward babe...this hard on I got here, thanks to waking up with your ass against my dick-"

"Oh god!"
She cried, her face turning crimson as her embarrassment cranked up yet another notch.
"See, this is why you should've slept on the floor."

"But where's the fun in that?"
He rasped, edging closer in the bed.
"Now if you ain't gonna help me out here with this..."
He gestured rudely towards his crotch.
"...then why don't you toddle off and have a shower or whatever, so I can take care of it myself. Or let me join you in the bathroom, and that'll be even better-"

"No!"
Raising a finger, she hastily pressed it to his dry lips. Desperately fighting to keep the smile from her lips. As mortified as she was about everything, she couldn't help wanting to laugh at his antics and the insanity of the entire situation.
"You're incorrigible."

She slowly moved her finger away, and he mimicked the action of biting it, before adding..
"Yeah and ya' love it really, you know you do."

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Meanwhile upstairs, Barbara was searching through the drawer of the new workbench as Adam sat on the couch nearby, looking on with nagging apprehension.
"Barb, is this really necessary? I mean, are you sure?"

"Oh Adam, I don't want to do this, believe me. But I don't think we have a choice. I know I can feel something isn't right...and Juno said to trust my instincts-"

"She actually advised us to develop our senses, not so much go off instincts. Honey I'm not saying I don't have faith in you, but I'm sure you're just worrying over nothing."

Finally her hands fell on the small piece of chalk she had been looking for, and she didn't hesitate in grasping it between her thumb and forefinger.
"I hope you're right Adam. But I need to be sure.."
She exclaimed, as she headed towards the bare brick wall.
"I'm certain I can sense...something...and there's only one thing for it. We have to tell Juno, maybe she can help us get to the bottom of it."
Filled with determination, she re-drew over the previous outline that Adam had drawn so long ago, tracing over the faded chalk lines of the door, then knocked three times on the brick with such force that it hurt her knuckles.

Within moments a rumbling ensued, as the wall began to shudder, sending up small clouds of dust as the cement was shaken loose. Adam hesitantly joined her now, and bathed in the green light that filled the room as the door creaked open, the pair stepped through the gateway into the portal of the Neitherworld.

Upon entering the waiting room, Barbara instinctively shrunk away from some of the horrors that greeted them. Not recognising any of the new occupants, it was easy to blanch at some of the new, bizarre and gruesome sights. The entire room looked like a gathering of people in Halloween fancy dress, and Adam had to quietly remind Barbara that everyone's appearance and afterlife experience were dependant on how they lived and died. He'd managed to understand enough of the handbook to know that it varied greatly from person to person, along with limitations and abilities, and sometimes how you looked once deceased bore no great resemblance to how you'd met your demise. There were however, some that resembled the grisly way in which they'd departed, only all too graphically.

Approaching the counter, the pair were relieved to see at least one familiar face, the receptionist whom they knew only as Miss Argentina, due to the beauty contest sash she still wore with pride.
Glancing up, she regarded the couple with the usual amount of disdainful irritation as she always afforded them.
"Back so soon? I presume you don't have an appointment?"

"Back so soon? It's been two years."
Barbara pointed out defensively.

The young woman openly scoffed, as she continued shuffling the papers in her hands.
"Nine actually, but you still have 123 years to go in living time, before you can move on. You're going to use up all of your help vouchers, and might I remind you that you're only permitted three appointments per past-lifetime with your caseworker."

"Yes but this is an emergency."
Barbara insisted.

"Hmm, it always is."

Just then as if from nowhere, the small figure of Juno appeared in the office behind the receptionist. Her expression even more grave than usual.
"It's alright Martina, I've been expecting them.."
She announced, to the surprise of all three of them.
"You two, get in here."

They both glanced towards the door which led to the corridor, and Juno immediately read their minds.
"Don't waste time walking around, use your abilities, you're ghosts! Do what ghosts do, walk through the damn wall."
She instructed impatiently.

Ignoring Miss Argentina's smirking face, Adam cautiously took hold of Barbara's hand in his own, and proceeded to step through the wall, guiding his wife as he went. Feeling nothing but a strange, sudden flip of the stomach, like one feels when you drive up and over a dip in the road, they both found themselves on the opposite side.

"See that wasn't so bad was it? Why waste time using corridors when you can take a short cut? Follow me, and keep up."
She barked, heading through the hustled and bustle of the office, towards the back stairs.

"You've been expecting us?"
Adam enquired, raising his voice in order to be heard over the noise of telephones ringing, and co workers chattering.

"Of course I was, I'm just surprised it's taken you this long. I should've stepped in sooner but I can't keep intervening, it's my ass on the line you see, I can't keep paying house calls. Each client is only allocated three."
She replied gruffly, as she ascended the stairs to the next floor.

"Yes but you've only visited us twice, which means we're still allowed another one."
Barbara pointed out, then jumped slightly as Juno halted abruptly in order to turn and face them.

"I can't keep popping in on you flippantly like that, not when there's a strong chance you're going to need me at a later date. And I mean, really need me. That's your problem, you can't handle anything by yourselves."
She paused briefly, taking a slow drag on her cigarette.
"However on this occasion, you're going to need all the help you can get."

"What on earth does that mean?"

Continuing up the stairs, they reached the cramped office and filed inside.
"Sit down."
She commanded, as she pulled the door shut behind them.

Obediently, Adam and Barbara did as instructed, shooting a nervous glance at each other.
"What's all this about?"
Adam ventured, leaning forwards slightly in the chair.

"What do you think it's about?"
Juno fired back as she seated herself behind her desk. Almost disappearing behind a mountain of paperwork.

"Beetle....uh, I mean, him?"
He quickly corrected himself when Barbara hurriedly reached out to cover his mouth.

"Well of course it is. What do you think I'd want to discuss with you? Your favourite colour?"

"I'm sure he's in our house."
Barbara blurted out suddenly, paying no attention to Juno's harsh sarcasm.

"D'you think?"
The elderly woman retorted sardonically.
"I told you to be on your guard and have your wits about you, but only now that things have gotten this bad have you noticed...and you.."
She pointed an accusing finger at Adam.
"You haven't even noticed any shift in the atmosphere at all."

He made to respond, but Barbara was quick to jump in.
"What do you mean by things have gotten bad? Juno, what's been happening?"

Taking another drag on her cigarette, the smoke puthered out through her unsightly neck wound, as she affixed the pair with her steely gaze.
"I love how I have to bring you up to speed on what's been going on inside of your house."

Shifting uneasily in her seat, Barbara subconsciously gripped onto the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white.
"Please, just tell us and put us out of our misery."
She begged, brows drawing together in apprehension.

"If he's in our house then he's been awfully quiet."
Adam piped up, twitching nervously. Unsure of whether or not he wanted to hear whatever revelations Juno was about to disclose.

"Oh well he will be when he's got a distraction. Entertainment you might say. Remember the brothel last time? It's relatively easy to keep him preoccupied."

"So what distractions has he had?"

"Oh no! Not Lydia? It is, isn't it?"
Barbara cried in anguish, her dark eyes now pooling with tears.

"What?"
Adam gasped, visibly shaken.
"I swear if he's laid one filthy hand on her I'll..."

"You'll what?"
Juno prompted, leaning back in her swivel chair.
"He's a level five poltergeist, with hundreds of years haunting experience. Level five's are dangerous enough as it is, but his power extends far beyond animating objects, possession, and altering the reality around him. He's existed in several lifetimes, and has the ability to actually remember it. He could grind you to dust under his damn boot and he'd laugh while doing it...and I'd probably laugh along, at your stupidity for even attempting to take him on by yourself."

Falling silent now, distinctly crestfallen, Adam pulled at the collar of his shirt in nervous agitation.

"And, as far as the Deetz girl goes, she's not without blame. You could say she's been a willing distraction, contentedly providing him with the sort of entertainment he thrives on."

Barbara's mouth fell open, and she automatically clutched her stomach, feeling utterly sickened.
Beside her, Adam was on his feet now, completely aghast.
"Are you implying that Lydia...that she...that he and her?"
He stammered, too flummoxed to even string a sentence together, but also reluctant to vocalise what was too shocking and disgusting to even contemplate, let alone speak of.

"She wouldn't."
Barbara was saying now, though secretly trying to convince herself as well as their caseworker.
"She wouldn't want to associate with the likes of that slime ball. She's too intelligent to get herself mixed up with him. I know her, she just wouldn't. He must've threatened her, or something."

"Look she's a young, impressionable girl, a con artist like him could easily take advantage."
Moving forwards to lean on the desk, Juno waved the hand that clutched her cigarette, looking deep in thought.
"But.....for whatever reason, some women are just drawn to him. Just ask our own little Martina of Argentina on your way out, she's one of many in a long line that seem unable to resist his charms."

"But Lydia isn't dead!"

"And that's precisely why he has his sights set on her. A living being, she's his ticket to freedom you see. That's what that whole wedding farce was about."
The elderly ghost explained, with as much patience as she could muster.
"If she accepted the ring, and she accepts him, then he's free from any restraints that bind him to the Neitherworld. And believe me, unleashing him amongst the living is not an option. He behaves like a petulant child at best, but behind all that bravado lies a seriously damaged soul. And that makes him an even greater threat."

"But why Lydia? Can't he harass someone else instead? He must've done plenty of haunting in his time, so are you telling me he goes around trying to bully every vulnerable girl he stumbles across into marriage? Or has he honed in on her, singling her out for some specific reason?"
Barbara was crying now, silent tears staining her pained face, as her overactive, suspicious mind rocketed into over-drive.

"Well it's funny you should bring that up...maybe your senses are finally developing, and perhaps you're one of the telepaths because I thought it was too much of a coincidence as well. So I checked her file, and sure enough she's been around before, and her records have been left blank...which can only mean one thing."
She spoke cryptically, and the ghost couple instinctively reached for each other's hand. Preparing themselves for the worst, and attempting to offer each other some small fraction of comfort and strength.

"What does it mean?"
Adam asked, reluctance and feelings of nausea contorting his stomach into knots.

"Call it a twist of fate, or whatever you like, but it means that in her past life, Lydia was the cause of his death."

Barbara's grip on her husband's hand tightened painfully, and despite her already being dead, she swore she felt an icy chill sweep over her, making her shudder violently.
"I want him gone, Juno."
She declared boldly.
"I don't care what it takes, he needs to be gone from her life, for good. So please...help us get rid of him once and for all."