Author's Note: Oh my oh my, I am not dead. Not in the least bit dead. I am sorry my lovelies, that I have been away for so long though. I have been caught up with many things, and well, as you can see, it has effected my writing times. Yes it has, but hopefully, with this, I can end my unintentional hiatus, and come back to my lovelies, with writings once more.

I am hoping to write some more of my other stories, but currently, this and possibly one of my other fictions will hold higher priority.

To my reviewers, who may or may not be still watching this dear writer that is me, I thank you. Thank you Cybernetic Mango, dbzgtfan2004, Substitute Reality, and Darbanville. This is all I can give to you, I hope you accept my peace offering. ^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice. I own Selene and Damian though, because they are characters, that I created. Not much else needs to be explained.

Now, onto the next chapter of:

Second verse, same as the first

Chapter 2: Encounter of the fourth kind…

---

A flash of red, layers of god-awful neon red cloth encased her, smothering her in the smell of dust and chili powder-faint chili powder, the type that is fading, but is still there, prominent, in the forefront of your mind, poking you with pointy, blunt objects.

Then, the grasp of the arm, forceful but oh-so gentle-maybe not. Drag, scuffle, rustle, shove. Those sounds echoed in the mind, as the overwhelming scent of mold, rain, and decomposing beetle guts-along with a scent of gingivitis with rabies- filled the senses, and then eyes.

Gaping, unearthly eyes, filling your soul with a sense of abyss and dismay, staring at you, making one void and obedient in a sort of fearful way. All of these things jumping out at the same time; the images of shock and horror from Delia and Charles-my father- weren't as important, as the image of him. Him, with mold imbedded in the roots of his faded blond hair, those wide toxic green eyes, that glowed with mischief and glee, with deep black circling them and making them that much bigger and greener, and that crooked smile, complete with that pale glow that only death can bring.

"…a great caterer, got a band, and hey, gonna need witnesses." He said, with a gravel of determination. The shock was too great; the shock that he was completely serious, the shock that this was actually happening, the shock that my parents were being tied up in a grand sense of irony. The shock that my god parents couldn't do anything about it…

They were falling apart, literally.

I was ashamed, or disturbed, either way, the toll was dire.

"Ah-ah-ah. Nobody says the B word." He said, warning on his voice like a raccoon smeared across the tar paved road. For some reason I tuned everything out…even the frantic screams of Delia; all I could hear were his words. Shit if I knew why, but they were the only things that stuck out in my mind.

"Sure, why not?"

That was my chance!

Wait…that's my chance, why is everything fading black? I can't hear myself, I can't hear the screams, or the chaos. Where's the giant striped worm thing? Where's Barbara, or Adam? Where's…

What would'a happened if ya said yes, babes?

---

Her eyes snapped open, and her eyes focused on the closest object to her-her darling fiancée's worried face staring down at her. Lydia panted softly, as she slowly sat up, Damien giving her space, and she glanced towards him, questions in her eyes. Damien slowly smiled a soft, shaky smile, coupled with a bony hand resting on her back. "You were sweating, and saying something by the name of Beetle…juice? You repeated it in your sleep, and you were thrashing in your sleep."

She stiffened at the name. Oh no…

She whipped around to look at him, sternness in her eyes. "How many times did I say it?" she demanded in a voice that was only used at work. It was his turn to stiffen.

"Only twice! What's wrong sweetheart? It's our time to relax…" He said, his voice lowering into a whimper. She flinched and then broke a smile for him, her shoulders rolling forward, and her eyes looking over him in sentimental apology.

"I'm sorry Damien…"

His head turned away in a pouting frenzy. "Say the pet name."

Lydia blinked, and slowly a pink flush passed over her cheeks. "D-Damien, that isn't necessary-"

"Say it."

Lydia sighed and heaved her head forward. "I'm sorry shnookie-puppy-bear." She said, trying to hide the pain of saying such an awful pet name. In the back of her head there was hysteria.

That went silent though, as she was scooped up in his arms, and kissed on the forehead. "Only for you my dark princess."

She cringed inwardly, even though the latest pet name wasn't as bad as..ugh..cuddle-bear, or booger plum…He wasn't the same as when she first met him. But that's another story she would get into later.

She smiled softly at the not-so-dark Damien, as he stood up and smiled back at her. He then knelt over her, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. With a cheek pinch he turned and left. "Think, sweetie, tomorrow we can properly call ourselves 'The Neffingtons'. Then all our dreams will come true. Now hurry up, you want to go swimming don't you?"

No, not really…

Before she could voice her thoughts, he was gone. Lydia bit her lip, and then groaned. She was only having pre-wedding jitters, she loved her fiancée very…very much. It was just…she was going through a rough patch, one that was self imposed, one that made her doubt her love very much…right? She got to her feet, and stepped over to the mirror, which was lit just right by the mid-day rays, that hit it just right, and she leaned forward. She looked herself over and sighed gently, slapping her face gently. It was complete nonsense, what she was putting herself though. She didn't want anything wild, didn't want anything out of the ordinary…nothing to do with that poltergeist, nope. Nada, absolutely nothing. What. So. Ever.

Despite what she had said out loud in her sleep. It…it was probably…

Ugh, she didn't know.

There was a heavy, rushed knock at her door, and she turned to look. There were cries from the other side of the door, which caused Lydia to rush over to it, and open it. Not a second too soon that this happened, when Selene barged through the door, with her hair tied up and a Hawaiian skirt wrapped around her waist, accompanied with a short white t-shirt of course. "Oh. My god. Lydia, I can't believe you're missing out on the festivities, girl."

Lydia looked at Selene with furrowed eyebrows, and Selene just sighed. "Ok, there are natives out there. Hot natives I mind you. They are shaking those cute native tooshies, and I think your step mom's getting a little too frisky." There was a loud giggle from a familiar red head in response to this accusation, and Selene snorted. She grabbed Lydia by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Your step mother is out scoring us! That's sad! You're getting kidnapped." Selene then grabbed Lydia by her waist, picked up the three-times-smaller girl, and stomped off to the party below.

---

That day passed in a blur of hot Hawaiian men, hula dancing, drunk giggles, and a silent on-looking Damien. She wanted him to jump in, to have fun, and to laugh about things, but he merely stood there, watching the festivities with a passing smile. That image irked Lydia to no end, and the meaning behind it irked her even more. Sure, he was fine with how things were, and that he trusted in her to not go beyond simple flirting and laughter, but shouldn't he be the least bit jealous?

As the sun set Lydia found herself alone amongst the sea of drunken companions, and even more alone amongst the ocean of couples. The sky finally had gone black, and a sky of stars opened up above her, when she finally decided to indulge herself. She sighed softly as she walked over to the techno-lit bungalow at the edge of the beach, right next to the hotel, and she plopped down in the bar seat that sat on an island of thick, sturdy cement. She took a deep breath as she tugged at the elastic band that held her hair together, and exhaled as she tugged it loose, hearing the rubber snap under her fingers.

Oops.

She tossed the broken band into the sand, and slumped forward. She was in a white sleeveless t, and short black pants, which were really shorts, but that was besides the point. The point was, she felt exhausted in those normal clothes that she wore. Her big brown eyes closed, and her mind wandered back to her childhood. She didn't want to get married…but she had no other choice. Besides, she would be happy, living a mundane life that put up a façade of being not so mundane, with a gallery owner husband that faked sheik, but was really as plain as the rest of the joe-blows out there, and conforming her old ways to meet his mundanity.

She was sealed though. Lydia chose this life. It made her happy, working in a practically normal job, being an editor for a high end job. She couldn't say that was normal…but yet she did. If only she had said yes that night…then she wouldn't be kicking herself now. She would just get married to Damien, and fall back in love with him, after having children, or maybe a dog. Dog sounded better than children. Ghastly little cretins…

She groaned and sighed, her hair falling in front of her face, as she ordered something cheep that would kick her ass the next morning. She was about to pay for it, when she heard a tisk from her side. Lydia looked over, to a man wearing a brown wide-brimmed hat, probably three feet in diameter, that hid his face, and a matching brown trench coat that went down to his curling…black…shoes.

Her eyes snapped up to his face, or what he could see of his face, which was only his jaw line. Her eyes widened, and then she shook her head. "N-no, that couldn't be. He wouldn't be here. I sent him away…" She said to herself, under her breath. There was a chuckle, and she turned her attention back to the strange man, as he turned to her, a feather peeking out from where it was tucked away. A black…and white…striped feather. She felt every muscle in her body stiffen, as a crooked row of yellow teeth grinned at her.

"I can still take you up on that offer babes."