Author's Note: Ok people, the first chapter of the new story is up. This whole idea originated from a talk me and rubydesires had on DeviantArt. Supposedly there's going to be a sequel to Beetlejuice, called Beetlejuice goes to Hawaii. Well, with the ideas that we came up with, I couldn't pass an opportunity to write up this little diamond in the rough.

This story is set in movie-verse. Ten years after her encounter with the infamous Beetlejuice, and the events that followed said encounter, she moved on from the whole fiasco, or so she told herself. A part of her took on his voice, his personality, as her own personal shoulder devil, whispering sweet nothings to the poor girl. She finally found someone though, someone she grew to care about. Now they're getting hitched, in beautiful, beautiful Hawaii. What adventures wait us there, my dear compadres? We shall soon see.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice. We all know this. Only the illustrious Tim Burton owns the concept. But his spirit belongs to no one.

Now, onto the first chapter of:

Second Verse, Same as the First

Chapter 1-Ten Years Later...

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Gentle caresses, rough hands, red tips nipping hungrily at soft porcelain. Blue lips pressing at life's pulse, greedy green locking into innocent brown. Ice against fire, as a fever overtook both…

White tipped nails dug into the brown of stained wood, as wide eyes of milk chocolate stared into the never ending swirls of ages. Heavy breath filled her mind as those images played through her mind over and over again, and slowly, eyebrows furrowed. Clarence entered her head; none of that was real, only in the book she was writing. She told herself that repeatedly, if only to quiet that cackling devil on her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at the wood, which seemed to mock her.

You'd like that, you disgusting creature of the night…well I won't let you win. I won't let you sink your disgusting bloody fingers into my head, I have therapy now!

Anyone who would walk upon the scene in front of them would instantly turn away, in fear. There sat a black haired woman, roughly in her late twenties, early thirties, with her hair French braided back into a mass of manmade curls, and her suit probably made from subconscious whims. A loose oversized white shirt, tied at the waist with a black and white striped scarf, and a flowing skirt of white, navy blue, and black stripes. There was also the black heals, and the red barrette in her hair in the shape of a beetle-ladybug hybrid.

But her appearance was beside the point. A normally well mannered and fluent woman, whom had the greatest self control and tolerance known to most men, was stabbing her oak table wildly with a rather sharp letter opener.

Only the bravest, or most careless, of souls dare approach the cannibalistic rabbit on days such as this.

Even fewer survive.

It was about that time that another woman, who was rather voluptuous, and a few years older, sidestepped the mass of wall sticking out farther than needed, walked up to the enraged brunet, and took the rising letter opener out of her hands before she made another downward motion. The first girl flinched, and hissed as she gripped her hand hard, having smashed it into the vengeful wood. She looked up at the bigger woman, who had hazelnut skin, brown eyes, and short brown curly hair that smelt of morning wake, and pouted with her side hand in her mouth.

"Selene, what was that for?" The first female mumbled through her puffy hand.

The second female, Selene, sighed as she leaned against the edge of the table, and then eyed the letter opener as she flipped it from one finger to the other. Her eyes flickered to the owner of the voice, gripped the silver opener, and then started to wave it at her. "Lydia, you're a photographer for a very important magazine! I stress on the word important, and the word very. You're supposed to be a face for this company, and here you are, stabbing a poor defenseless tabletop, which belongs to the company in the first place. Learn your mannerisms!" She said, her voice velvet, but her hand not so much. A thump to the back of the younger female's head got her point across.

Lydia flinched and glared at the older woman. "I know Selene, no need for the abuse." The pale woman groaned as she looked back down at her desk; freckles of war scars imbedded into it.

Selene sighed deeply and closed her eyes, yellow flickering wildly in her gold eye-shadow. "And on top of that you're getting married this weekend. I know you feel the need to let down your guard, since it's your week and all, but seriously, there's a limit." She said, scoffing.

Lydia stared at her, and then sneered, looking down at her work. "Maybe I should take back the invitation to be my MoH." Another whack to the back of the head stopped that train of thought immediately.

"Shut your mouth. You know I've wanted to be a maid of honor since forever. Don't you dare deny me that, or so help me I'll…"

"Kill me in my sleep?"

"No, killing you would get you off too easy. No, I'll tell your fiancée about that man you fantasize about." Selene taunted, and received a dry stare in return.

"Fantasize. You think I fantasize about him."

There was a nod in response. "Of course. You write about him in that little book of yours."

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "It's going to be a horror book. You know that, right?" She said, turning back to examining her table.

Selene just laughed and waved her hand. "Oh, don't be so modest. The way you write about this fantasy man, you make it sound like a romance."

Lydia groaned and leaned forward, rubbing her temples. "Was there a reason why you came in here, aside from stopping me taking my rage out on an inanimate object?"

Selene blinked and stood up, nodding lightly. "Yeah, actually. Someone was calling for you, and they accidently called my number." Selene tapped her chin gently, wondering about the likeliness that that would actually happen.

Lydia looked up at Selene, and closed her eyes lightly. "Was it Richard?"

"No, it was someone else. Delilah…Daphne…Daisy…Danny…"

"The last one isn't a female name you know."

"It can be, if it's short for Danielle." Selene's voice stiffened in defense, and Lydia sighed.

"Look, it's probably Delia. Can you-"

"Delia?"

"My step mother. Now please, can you send her through to my line?" Lydia asked with a sigh.

With a nod Selene left, and a few seconds later her phone let out a monotonous beep. Lydia stared at the hunk of gray plastic, bit her lip, and slowly grabbed the phone. Not even a second later there was a loud shrill on the other end. Lydia flinched, almost dropped the phone, and played hot potato with it until she got a good grip on it. She held the receiver to her mouth and yelled into it.

"Delia! Delia! What's wrong? Did dad have another heart attack? Are you being attacked? What?!" she panted, ignoring the awkward stares into her office.

Another scream erupted, in the form of a coo. Lydia blinked, furrowed her eyebrows, and pulled the phone away just enough to stare at it questioningly.

"Oh Lydia, those big hunky natives are going to love my new piece!" yelled Delia into the phone, delighted.

Lydia groaned and hunched over, putting all her weight on the now preoccupied elbow. She rubbed her face with her hand, and ran it through her hair. "Hey Delia." She moaned and closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose gently.

"Lydia, I must show you my new piece. Maybe even your boss might like it." Delia said, her voice pitter pattering like high chimes. "Have you been able to pull those strings you told me about yet?"

Lydia held back a sigh, and leaned back in her chair. "No Delia, he's tough to crack."

"Maybe you can take pictures of it at your wedding then? You can show your boss my new sculptures! You did invite him to your big day, right?"

"Yes Delia." She sighed. "Look, can we not do this now?"

There was a long silence on the other end, until finally, "You're going to talk to your boss-"

"Yes Delia, yes. I'll see you at the wedding."

"Wait, Lydia darling."

Lydia groaned. "What Delia?" She snapped.

"Lydia, darling, you know I'm proud that my little girl is all grown up and getting married Sunday, right?" Delia asked, a sound of pleading in her voice.

Lydia paused, and slowly nodded. "Yeah…yeah I do Delia…hey, is dad ok?" she asked softly.

There was a bit of static, and a voice was cleared. "Yes dear, your father is doing better. He'll be able to go to your wedding…It would be better if you did it here-"

"Delia." Lydia warned.

"But we have the tickets. We'll be there on Saturday. Ooh, my little Lydia is all grown up, and getting married, of her own will!"

Lydia glared at the phone. "Bye Delia." She slammed the phone on the receiver.

---

The night air was crisp and cool, as it brushed against her face lovingly. Lydia sighed gently as she leaned against the window to her home office; a giant window, with a balcony seat, that she could free write from, or even take the occasional picture of the New York skyline. How she got such a wonderful view, or place, she would never know. It was just right for her needs; two rooms, one which was converted into an office, a spacious living room/dining room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom with a giant bath. A perfect studio flat, big enough for just her and her fiancée. No room for pets, no room for children…not that she ever wanted children.

She sighed and closed her eyes, when the light suddenly flicked on. She winced a little, and glanced at the perpetrator; her fiancée. He was lanky, for lack of better words. He stood five foot seven, half a head taller than Lydia, with short black hair, and deep set black eyes. He was pail, and he wore dark clothes that clung to him fashionably. He was a pretty famous gallery owner, and he only went out to parties to promote his gallery, and whoever would be in it at the time. Besides that though, he stayed home, either with a box of chow mien, or a slice of pizza from around the corner. He liked to play it safe, he liked to think instead of act, and he was what she needed; a reliable man who wouldn't go off the deep end. A very sane, reliable, safe man.

A very boring prick, if ya ask me.

She frowned lightly, at the voice. She felt a cool hand on her shoulder, and her eyes flicked up to the man in front of her, looking into his worried dark eyes.

"Hey sweetie, is everything ok?"

Lydia blinked and tilted her head lightly. "Yeah Damien, why?"

Damien, the man before her, frowned lightly. "You seem a little out of it. Are you sure flying tomorrow would be good for your energy?"

Lydia sighed gently, and rested her hand on his upper arm softly. "Yes, my energy will be just fine."

Damien nodded and smiled softly at Lydia. "Alright…come to bed. We have an early day tomorrow."

She nodded. "I'll be there in a bit."

He mimicked her, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. "Just think sweet heart. In a couple days our lives will change forever…"

Lydia's breath caught in her throat. Yes…she would fly to Hawaii tomorrow, with her loving and supportive fiancée, get hitched the next day, and then come back the day after. No need for honeymoons, because every day was a vacation, for him. Her, on the other hand...

Heh, sellin' your soul already babes? I thought that was mine and only mine…