It wasn't meant to happen.

Not even a scum-sucking, utterly repugnant bastard of a ghost like Beetlejuice would plan something like this. But now, here he was, staring around at a situation that would... hell, should be everything he ever dreamed of. And all he wanted was out.

He knew exactly how it all happened, which was a refreshing change from wondering exactly how or where everything fell apart, he supposed. It had started a mere five days ago, when Lydia (sweet, innocent, fifteen year old Lydia) had visited the Neitherworld to see the Street Carnival that happened once every twenty years. It was the spectacle to end all spectacles; the grossest, creepiest, most horrifyingly scare-tastic night of the Neitherworld calendar, and Lydia was struck dumb by the sheer immensity of it. Every ghost, ghoul, monster and mage got involved, from preparing food to cleaning spaces, to dressing up in carnival wear and parading through the endless twisting stretches of road. Even, to her surprise, Beetlejuice.

"What are you wearing?" Lydia gasped, as he opened the door to her. He shot her a quizzical look, before examining his clothes. He was wearing pristine white boots, which curled up into a crescent at the toes, and a white suit that was splashed with a colour Lydia couldn't quite pinpoint. Sometimes it looked purple, but she could swear it was changing, even as she looked at it, to brown, or red, or even green.

"It's my carnival suit, babes." Beetlejuice looked at her, quizzically. "You're not going in that, are you?"

"What's wrong with my cloak?"

"Sacre simulacra!" Jacques declared, spotting Lydia as she entered. He, too, was wearing white, only his was a pair of dungarees, over a white shirt with light yellow swirls printed onto it. "Lydia, you cannot go to the carnival dressed in red!"

"You gotta wear white at the carnival, babes." Beetlejuice looked her up and down, scratching his dead, blonde locks and dislodging a large amount of dead skin in the process. "Did I not mention that?"

"No." Lydia felt very self-conscious, embarrassed at apparently violating a grand tradition. She stared at the floor, fighting off a blush. She'd been, as Delia had tactlessly tutted, "emotionally unstable" lately, which was apparently very normal for girls her age, but that didn't make her feel any better. Especially since that was all anyone ever told her. When she got upset or felt tired or angry for no good reason, all her friends and family told her that it was just her hormones, and that it was a sign of her growing up. Well... almost everyone. There was one person who didn't seem to notice the fact that she was fifteen now. That she was a young woman. And, as she resolutely avoided his gaze, she wondered if he ever would, biting back a scream as he ruffled her hair.

"Don't sweat it, Lyds." BJ pointed his finger at her, and she was suddenly wearing the same cloak, except now it was a snowy white, but with a blood red cobweb.

"Ooh, deadly vu!"

Beetlejuice laughed and winked at her, instantly evaporating all her frustration. In the background, Jacques and Ginger rolled their eyes at each other. They'd noticed how much Lydia had grown. They'd also noticed how her feelings for BJ had... "grown" too, which was more than could be said for the ghost himself. He was completely clueless as to how much Lydia adored him, and they had shared the thought more than once that someone was going to get hurt before Lydia got much older.

"Come on, we gotta be there for the opening!"

So, accompanied by Jacques, Ginger, the Monster Across The Street and Poopsie, they made their way into town, laughing and talking jovially. Beetlejuice was almost being... civil.

"Beej, what gives? You haven't tried to prank or con anyone all night..."

"It's Carnival, Lydia." Ginger grinned, from her position on the Monster's white Stetson. "All bets are off. It's like the old legend says, "All you say on Carnival night will be with you 'til you set it right"."

"What does that mean?" She giggled, as Beetlejuice grabbed her under the arms and lifted her onto his shoulders.

"It means that, if you say anything out of line, it'll come back and bite you. Hard."

Lydia wasn't sure she believed it any more than she believed any other superstition, but then, superstition seemed to be taken a lot more seriously in the Neitherworld. Possibly, she thought, because of their tendency to take everything very, very literally.

The opening ceremony was a fright to behold. Every ghost within a fifty mile radius was stood, or sat, or floating around the doors to the town hall, where Mayor Maynot stood, in a pressed white suit, in front of a brilliantly deep violet curtain.

"My friends." He spoke into the microphone, everyone fell instantly silent. The entire town seemed to be a dusky umber, making the white bodies appear to shine. "My citizens. My... future citizens. Tonight is the night we Dead celebrate just what we are... Dead! May you all speak and hear kind words, and may you all see sights that will mesmerise and terrify. May this lead to the greatest two decades on record!"

A cheer went up from the crowd, deafening, and yet invigorating. A mechanical whir started up as, seemingly from nowhere, fairground rides, fireworks displays and merchant booths prepared for business.

"Back in a sec, babes." Beetlejuice leant over and whispered in Lydia's ear. "Watch this!" He drifted up into a clear patch or sky, directly above Town Hall, with several other ghosts. There were approximately twenty of them, and Lydia watched open mouthed as they began to rotate in a circle.

"Ah, this is the unveiling." Jacques leant down, whispering to Lydia. "The few most powerful ghosts and poltergeists work together to unveil something new and spectacular each time... I wonder what this shall be?"

The ghosts revolved, faster and faster, slowly glowing until they were just a ring of light. The velvet curtain behind the mayor dropped, in time with a thunderclap, and electric blue raindrops fell from the sky at the same time a flood of green... something... cascaded across the ground, flooding everyone's shoes and spreading as far as the eye could see.

"Yuck!" Lydia exclaimed, lifting her stained feet off the ground.

"Naw, that's good luck!" The Monster laughed, saluting the poltergeists as they stopped spinning. "That's why we wear white. The colours you've collected by the end of the night will forecast your future. Green is luck, that shade of blue is vitality..." The ghosts hadn't finished unveiling. They flew into the black rainclouds at force, and a deep, forceful growl echoed around the space, nearly shaking everyone from their feet. Then, in one sudden movement, the cloud exploding, sending golden snowflakes down on the crowd below. The ghosts were nowhere to be seen. Everyone went wild, cheering and applauding.

"I wanted to go with a dragon that barfed in Technicolor, but I was outvoted." Lydia jumped at Beetlejuice's voice in her ear. He grinned at her, picking her up and resting her in the air, three feet off the ground. "Now come on, let's take a look around!"

The night was a whirl of rich colours, diverse sounds and so much laughter that Lydia found her face aching. The smells ranged from burning incense to roasting insects, the sounds from screams of fear to exclamations of love, and the sights... she was so glad she'd brought her camera, snapping so many shots that were somehow dark and twisted, but also joyous and vibrant. She knew it was dangerous territory, but the way he kept grabbing her hands in the crowds, or the way he smiled and let her choose where they went, or the way he went out of his way to create photo opportunities for her... Lydia started to hold her breath, and began to so a very dangerous thing. She began to guess, to read into his actions. She began to think he might feel the same about her as she did about him, and imagine so many scenarios playing out... things that made her feel guilty and ecstatic all at once.

"This is amazing!" She yelled at Beetlejuice, over the sound of the Neitherworld's number one rock band, Arcade Pyre, giving a live gig. Or at least... she thought she did. He had been there not five seconds ago, and when she had turned around, he was gone. She couldn't see him anywhere, and wasn't helped by the fact that everything was white, or a mash of odd dyes and stains, all washed out by the mysterious umber light, which had been so peaceful before, but now had an edge of the nightmarish. Where was he? Her heart suddenly rose in her throat. She couldn't see Jacques or Ginger or the Monster either...

Beej had yelled at Lydia about going to get drinks, but whether or not she heard him over the music was questionable. He was fairly eager to jump away from the crowds and the speakers, so he kind of presumed she'd heard him. He wasn't too fond of that kind of music, but Lydia was having fun rocking out, and he was happy to give her the best Carnival she'd ever experience. He sighed, strolling up to the bar. In contrast to what he knew everyone was thinking about him, he had noticed how Lydia was now in the middle of her teenage years, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, good for her, growing up into a fine young lady. On the other hand, he couldn't stop seeing her as little Lyds, the smartest kid he knew. On the other "other hand", he wasn't sure he'd be able to trust himself around a legal Lydia... Also, why was he counting three hands?

Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts and turned to the barkeep, ordering two Maggot-ritas (non alcoholic, obviously), and flashed a civil smile to the banshee who stood at the end of the bar. The myths were half right, although to say they "wailed and screamed" was something of an overstatement. These days, a Banshee voice could easily be mistaken for a Beverly Hills accent.

"Happy Carnival." BJ smiled, waiting for the barman to make his drinks.

"Like, is it?" the banshee intoned, flipping back her long, black hair and revealing a shoulder that was like mossy marble. "I hear someone brought a breather in! Can you imagine? Ugh, I could just die... you know, if I wasn't already."

"Breather, huh?" Beetlejuice had been about to think of the banshee as attractive, but was now instantly put off. "Biolist", not to be confused with "biologist", was the term for ghosts who were prejudiced against the living, and BJ had no time for them. But as this banshee shrieked and laughed about how preposterous the idea was, he decided he was going to make time. Sure, he couldn't juice her or anything, but he'd been intrigued by the idea of "killing with kindness" for a while now. Or at least, irritating until he got a rise out of her.

Lydia's breath came in short, sharp gasps, making her chest ache as she pushed her way through the crowd, narrowly avoiding being crushed. She couldn't recognise anyone, and she was too small to see over the crowds. People danced into her, pushing and bumping, nearly knocking her off her feet, practically suffocating her as she struggled to get through. It wasn't fun anymore. She wanted to go home. The world was pulsating and revolving, things were looming out of the shadows at her, cackling and mocking her. She felt so small. Her heart raced, her pulse reverberating in her ears... she felt sick, and scared.

That was when she heard it. His laugh. His cackling, manic laugh, cutting through the noise of the band. She looked around, and saw Beetlejuice, leaning against a nearby bar, talking to a woman. She wore a long, elegant white dress that showed off her sharp waist and curving hips. Beelejuice was pushing back her jet black hair, laughing and joking, and staring straight into her eyes. It felt, to Lydia, as though the bottom had fallen out of her stomach. All the twisting, writhing fear she had felt not a moment ago suddenly disappeared, leaving a cavernous void that felt so cold and bleak... she choked back a sob, warily approaching them, like a child approaching a stray dog. She could hear snippets of conversation drifting over as the band stopped playing.

"... But I can ditch my babysitting duties and go some place quieter, if you'd like."
Ouch. That wasn't just pain. That was pain like she had been stabbed, straight through the heart. She could almost feel her blood, so hot it must be burning her insides, bubbling out of the imaginary wound and filling her chest with fire. She could feel the fire spreading up, catching her whole face on fire.

"You jerk!" She screamed, running over and pushing him away from the ghost woman. Both of them seemed more surprised than anything, but the guilt (or, Lydia told herself, more likely discomfort at being caught) laced BJ's face soon enough.

"Lyds, what's..."

"You absolute ass-hole jerk!" She could feel hot tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away with her cape. "You disappeared; you left me, just to chat up some girl?"

"Hey babes, I only meant to get drinks, I wasn't going to be gone long..."

"You were going to ditch me!" Lydia was screeching, attracting the attention of nearby crowds, but she didn't care.

"I'm sorry, Lydia, I wasn't seriously going to..."

"You were, because that's just the scummy kind of monster you are!"

"Lydia! Calm down!" His tone switched instantly, from one of pleading to one of instruction. Lydia had her eyes screwed shut and was beating her fists against him, so she couldn't see the flame flash through his jade green eyes as he grabbed her wrists. "I didn't know you'd get so upset."

"You can't disappear off and hang out with other people like that! You can't!"

"Now don't start on what I can and can't do..."

"You're such a selfish jerk! You can't leave me on my own like that! You're my friend, mine!"

"Woah! I am not "your" anything, Lydia." He felt his own voice rising, although he was really struggling to control his temper. "You seem happy enough not giving a damn where I am most of the time, you can't expect me to suddenly do radio checks. I presumed you'd be fine on your own for five minutes."

"You bastard." Lydia hissed, actually hissed, stumbling away from him. She tore off her cloak, revealing her black leotard underneath. There was a deathly hush now. No one wore black on Carnival night. No one. She threw her cloak in Beetlejuice's face; her cheeks drowned in tears, her eyes still screwed shut. "Why do you need her? What's she got that I don't?" Lydia's mind was unhinged now, spouting words she had no idea she'd been thinking, without any way of stopping them. "If you want to get drunk and pass out on someone, why not look at me, huh? I'm all there, what else do you need?"

"Don't talk like that, Lydia..." It was a warning, not a consolation. It was an instruction. She was, at the very least, trying his patience.

"Maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be like that, like her. Why don't you want it?"

"Lydia."

"Or maybe you were more interested in me before I grew up."

"Lydia!" Beetlejuice held the cloak out in front of him, dropping it at Lydia's feet. He grabbed her face in one hand, bending down so he was staring her straight in the eyes. He was fierce, his lips set in a thin, hard line to stop himself from snarling, his eyes wide and staring, glinting like a knife beside firelight. He pinched her jaw, putting just enough pressure on that she'd fall still and listen to him. He took in her tear-stained face, her snotty nose... the magic of Carnival had clearly addled her brain. But if there was one thing he didn't appreciate, it was being talked to like that. Being accused of those kinds of things. He pushed her away, and she offered no resistance, falling to the floor.

"You, Lydia Deetz, are a spoiled brat." His voice rose in volume, as he plunged his hands into his pockets and drifted backwards, up and out of the street. "And you need to GROW UP!"

He disappeared with a crash of thunder, leaving Lydia, surrounded by sympathetic but wary strangers, with no choice but to go home and cry to her pillow.