Patiently he had sat waiting. Silently seething but feigning indifference. Patience was not one of his strong points, but he had no alternative other than to wait his turn. The crowded waiting room growing increasingly busy, bordering on being claustrophobic. It was a good thing he was used to enclosed spaces, having spent plenty of time in the dark, dank, confines of his coffin.
In truth, he would've actually preferred to be back there, rather than stuck here amongst a bunch of stiffs that he looked down upon with contempt. Each of them were reluctant to even make eye contact, let alone engage in conversation with him. Smirking to himself he revelled in their awkwardness, the way they squirmed when he invaded their personal space, provided him with some entertainment. But once he'd exhausted all the pranks he could pull on them, he was growing increasingly bored and agitated.

And it was then he heard it. Just as he was losing the will to live his afterlife. A distant, muffled voice that seemed to cut through the noise of the bustling hellhole, yet it was still barely audible. And only audible to him, because it was his name.
Like many higher level ghosts, Beetlejuice was able to hear voices if he concentrated hard enough. But it had been a very long time since he'd bothered to focus and 'tune in' as it were, to the incessant ramblings of dabblers in the occult, trying to make contact with spiritual entities via ouija boards or a séance. Only when his name was called did he pay any attention, for one reason and one reason only. It meant freedom, however brief. And dare he hope, a fresh opportunity to wreak havoc amongst the living. Confusion and surprise quickly gave way to curiosity as he listened intently, straining to hear as the soft voice resounded in his ears a second time. Leaning forward on the edge of his seat, he could barely contain his excitement as he willed the speaker to call his name one third and final time.....

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

Tossing and turning in her large, four poster bed, Lydia's sleep was fitful. Lost in her dreams, she writhed in twisted sheets as she slept. She was searching, searching for him. She had lost him. He had disappeared without a trace and she desperately needed to find him. Panic gripped her and her small hands balled into fists, clutching at the bedclothes until her knuckles showed white.
She was lost now. Lost without him. Frantically she called out to him, her breathing growing increasingly hampered as his name, that unusual name, that forbidden name, came tumbling past her teeth, falling from her mouth without her even realising.

And then all at once he was there. Right in front of her, as if he'd been there all along yet for some inexplicable reason she hadn't been able to see his familiar, yet unfamiliar face. He looked different somehow, and as he leaned forwards, until their noses were almost touching, the breath caught in her throat. And then he spoke, his guttural voice causing the small hairs to rise at the nape of her slender neck,
"Honey....I'm home."

She felt the coolness of his breath against her face, which was enough to make her eyes snap open, and her to sit bolt-upright in the bed. Feeling startled by the incredibly real sensation, she heard herself screaming before she even realised what she was doing. Although it came out as more of a startled, eardrum-perforating shriek, it was still loud enough to wake the dead.....quite literally.
Within a matter of moments the Maitland's were there. Calling out to her, voices filled with concern.
"Lydia? Lydia is everything alright?"
Barbara's voice rang out from behind the thick oak-panelled bedroom door.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lydia exhaled shakily. Taking a moment to compose herself before she responded,
"It's okay Barbara, I just had a bad dream that's all."

There was a brief pause before Barbara replied,
"Are you sure sweetie? I can keep you company for a while if you want?"

"No honestly, it's fine. I'm going back to sleep now."

"Oh, okay."
Came the reply,
"You know where we are if you need us. Goodnight Lydia."

"Goodnight Barbara, and, um...thanks."

Sensing that she'd left, after having somehow managed to convince her that everything was fine, Lydia flopped back heavily against the pillows. Her nerves rattled, she wasn't convinced herself that she felt okay.
What was wrong with her? Her dreams were now becoming even more realistic. Perhaps she should discuss all of this with Barbara in the morning. Even though the embarrassment would be crippling, she was beginning to feel like she needed to see a doctor or something. Maybe they'd be able to prescribe her sleeping pills, like the kind Delia swore by. Or maybe even a shrink. There must be something wrong with her, perhaps some form of therapy would rid her of this strange torment. But knowing deep down she wanted to cling on to these outlandish dreams, made her reluctant to talk about it to anyone.

Sighing heavily, her eyes drifted shut. And it was then she felt the oppressive presence. The feeling of not being alone, of being observed, and it caused goosebumps to rise on the bare, pale skin of her arms. Swallowing hard, instead of panicking this time she slowly prised open her eyelids. Apprehension and fear washing over her like a cold wave.
Her eyes widened as they fell on him, and she couldn't prevent a gasp escaping her lips.
There, at the bottom of the bed, leaning idly against her footboard, stood the tall, tattered figure of her tormentor.
Still wearing the red tuxedo from the last time she'd actually...physically seen him...he looked even more dishevelled than usual. His dirty blonde, careless hair that was greying in places and tinged with green, stood out at all angles and appeared to be covered in dust. He looked slightly thinner, as though he'd lost weight. His previous paunch now barely visible at all beneath the suit which hung looser on his lean frame.

So this was it, she'd finally lost the plot. He'd tipped her over the edge. All she needed now was a one-way ticket to a padded room.
"You-you're not real."
She insisted, with as much conviction as she could muster.

His intense green eyes stared back at her from within their dark rimmed sockets, a devilish smirk tugging at the corner of his dry, purplish lips,
"Oh yeah? Then how's a'bout I come over there and prove you wrong? Come and have a feel, I dare ya'"
He moved towards her, and she instinctively attempted to jump from the bed. But in her haste and blind panic she ended up tumbling onto the floor.
"Shucks babe. You falling for me all over again? Still you're only human after all. I have this effect on women."
His tone, though slightly mocking, was breezy and the remark typical of him. Adding to her inexplicable humiliation as she hurriedly rose from the floor, desperate to regain her dignity.

"W-what are you doing here? How did you come back?"
She stammered nervously, painfully aware of only being dressed in a long oversized T.shirt. She absentmindedly tugged it down, ensuring her underwear was covered.

He was laughing now, a throaty laugh that ended in an abrupt snort, which she couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.
"What am I doing here....well you see, that's an interesting question. 'Cause I have no fuckin' idea, being as you were the one that said the B words..."

Blinking rapidly, she opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find her voice. He had to be lying. She hadn't summoned him, she would never do such a despicable thing.

"So, I'm the one who should be askin' why you were saying my name in your sleep?"
The clear look of bewilderment was evident on his ghoulish face. Proving that he was genuinely perplexed.
"....oh and hey, do you know you sleep with your mouth open?"
He continued distractedly, his lips curling into a sinful smile,
"....I gotta tell ya, it's pretty fuckin' tempting."
He made a rude gesture towards his crotch for added emphasis.

His lewd comment and actions resulted in a deep blush flushing her face, which felt as if it reached from the tips of her toes to the roots of her raven hair. Scrunching her nose up, in the hope of showing her disgust, she edged further away but found herself quite literally backed into a corner.
"I, I don't know....I don't understand why I'd be talking in my sleep."

Shrugging nonchalantly, he suddenly sprung towards her. It seemed she'd barely blinked and he was looming above her. His movements so fast she didn't know how he got there and didn't even consider analysing it. He was so close she couldn't even think, all she could do was feel, as a bolt of exhilarated fear shot through her.
"Well hey, I don't really give a shit to be honest. I'm here now, so it's a good time for you to uphold your end of the bargain. Wouldn't 'cha say babe?"

"Bargain?"
She repeated, inadvertently breathing in his distinctly earthy scent which wasn't dissimilar to the smell of fresh rainfall on grass.

"Uh, yeah. We had a deal remember? Of course you do, you're a bright kid. Now It's time to collect."
His arms were either side of her now, his dirty hands resting against the wall. Trapping her.
"I never did get to kiss the bride, being as we were so rudely interrupted."

Her doe eyes rounded as his face came closer, and the sound of her own heartbeat thundered violently in her ears. So loud she felt certain he must've been able to hear it. He was going to kiss her. And for a moment she felt as if she might actually faint. Or die. And then she'd most definitely still be at his mercy. She couldn't allow this to happen. This was all wrong on so many levels. He wasn't even alive. And she felt sick to her stomach at the very thought of it, but even more so because somewhere deep inside she felt she actually wanted him to.
His lips were mere millimetres from her's when suddenly her senses returned, and she found her voice.
"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice..."
She croaked without hesitation, her throat incredibly dry.

"Agh, fuck!"
He managed to growl, before his form suddenly became hazy, and almost instantaneously dissolved into a trail of green smoke. Dispersing before her very eyes.

Only once he'd disappeared did she allow herself to breath. She hadn't even realised she'd been holding her breath. Her entire body was trembling, and it took every ounce of strength to make it back to the bed without her knees buckling beneath her.
An adrenalin fuelled sensation coursed through her veins. The relief was immense, but mingled with...something else...something she couldn't quite decipher. Regret? No. That couldn't be it. She physically shuddered at the thought.

But her relief was short lived, as suddenly a strange scratching sound alerted her to look towards her vanity table. And there to her horror and confusion, the reflection of an extremely disgruntled looking Beetlejuice glared back at her from behind the mirror. Scraping a long, pointed fingernail along the opposite side of the glass, which appeared to serve as a barrier, he impaled her with his emerald orbs.
"You ain't gettin' rid of me that easy you little bitch!"
He spat, his voice dripping venom,
"Nine fuckin' years I spent in that shit hole. You owe me. Big time....and I ain't goin' nowhere until you seal the deal."

There were no words to define the myriad of emotions she felt at his threatening proclamation. Fear, guilt, anger, confusion. She couldn't even begin to process them all. Most disturbing of all, was the fact that he had somehow become enchanted into her mirror. Just like in her dreams. Her mirror had been a portal between the worlds, and now here he was in the flesh...albeit rotting...inside her mirror. Surely that could not be a coincidence.
"How did you get in there?"
She demanded, ignoring his withering death stare.

"I'm the ghost with the most, and I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want. I'm done with slumming it in that poxy model, I don't wanna be anywhere near that crazy ass, sandworm-riding bitch.."
He growled, and the malice in his voice made her flinch,
"..I got me a new place here, somewhere where I can keep an eye on you."
To emphasise his point, or for the shock value, he raised his fingers to his left eye and popped it right from it's socket, then proceeded to throw it up in the air and catch it repeatedly with one hand.

Blanching at the sight, she made a face and attempted to ignore his gory display. Which took great effort.
"You said you've been gone nine years, right? But it's only been two."

"Yeah, in your time maybe. But it don't work the same when you're dead. They figure you've got an eternity to spare, sitting on your ass, wasting away. Well that ain't happening, you called, I came. I saved the stiffs up in the attic, now you gotta deliver what you promised."

"What, marry you?"
She cried, incredulously,
"That's not going to happen..."

"It already has."
He muttered, having now thankfully returned his eye to it's correct place, he appeared to lean against the frame of the mirror.

"What? What are you talking about? It didn't happen, the ceromony wasn't completed."

"Why? 'Cause some preacher missed out one damn word?"
He snorted, as if amused by her naivety.
"I gave you the ring, you took it...just because those interfering losers upstairs crashed the service, doesn't mean shit."

Her mouth fell open and her dark brow furrowed in confusion,
"So what exactly are you saying?"

He grinned at her wolfishly now, displaying his crooked, discoloured teeth,
"Jeez! I thought you were supposed to be smart? What d'ya want me to do, draw a picture? I'm saying whether you like it or not, that wedding took place and our contract is legally binding. We struck a deal, and yeah you and the Maitland's screwed me over but it doesn't change anything."
Relishing her look of shock and disbelief, he conjured a bottle of beer seemingly from nowhere, and raised it with a triumphant nod of his head,
"Happy anniversary darlin'....."