A/N: Hello hello hello, all of you out there! It's been a while since I wrote any fanfic, but I was bound to start again sometime, and why not start out with this wonderful fandom? Not much to say here, except… oh yes, shenanigans will ensue.

Disclaimer: Do Not Own. Sadly. No suing plz. D:

---letthedoombegin---

Lydia stared openmouthed, terrified. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't. How could the little alien… thing not realize that those weren't her words, that they were simply something parroted by this stupid ghost? Oh, god, she wanted someone to save her, but Barbara was gone, and Adam was gone, and her father didn't know what to do, and Delia's mouth was trapped shut. She could have tried once more, but she wasn't sure that she'd have enough time before the ceremony was over – it had been so quick and was that really a picture of what her life was going to be – and Lydia opened her mouth and she spoke, she spoke his name.

"Betelgeuse—"

But the little alien creature was talking with her, over her; "You may kiss the bride."

Lydia winced and she closed her eyes tight and tried to say it again, as fast as she could. "Betel—" but before she could get half of his name out he'd swung her down and cold lips were pressed against hers mid-word, and Lydia's eyes snapped open and she tried to pull away with a high-pitched squeak. He tasted like dirt and death and as they kissed she could feel the rest of her life slipping away, the future, her future falling into the abyss.

Then finally he pulled away, Betelgeuse pulled away, her husband pulled away and gave her a feral grin. Lydia gasped and stared at him for a split second, and then her father was screaming and Betelgeuse looked up and Lydia followed his gaze. Above them the ceiling cracked, and then Betelgeuse shoved her out of the way and as the ceiling collapsed in a pile of billowing debris and a huge she didn't know what it was leapt through the hole, Barbara on its back, Lydia hit the ground with a heavy thud, her rear end and her palms stinging. She looked up just in time to see the striped worm thing open huge fanged jaws and eat Betelgeuse and then Barbara, that sweet woman, whooped and leaped off of the worm thing's back just as it smashed through the floor and out…somewhere else.

Immediately, Barbara was at her side, peering at Lydia cautiously. "Are you all right?" She asked, offering Lydia a hand up.

All Lydia could do was stare. She wasn't entirely sure what had just happened; the only thing she knew was that the taste of Betelgeuse was still on her lips and the wedding ring was still on her finger, and he was a ghost, right, so how badly could a ghost be affected by being eaten?

Then, suddenly, she realized she was surrounded by faces – at some point the sculptures had let her parents go, and Delia and her father were standing over her like vultures. Protective vultures, but vultures nonetheless. Adam had rushed over and pulled Barbara into a tight embrace before Lydia could take Barbara's outstretched hand, and the alien preacher was standing fairly close, bridging the gap between the two families – the living and the dead.

"I-Is he…?" Lydia stuttered, looking into the faces of those standing around her. Adam and Barbara glanced at each other, their expressions unsure, and Lydia glanced at the alien preacher, who looked back with a completely unreadable expression on his face. She couldn't even meet the gazes of Delia and Charles, her stomach sick with dread.

She scrambled up, pushing past the offered hands and moving to the edge of the deep pit in the living room floor. She peered over the edge, wondering if perhaps this was another trick, if he was hiding down there ready to do something, to pop out and scare the shit out of everyone here and then cause general mayhem, but the pit was deep and dark and even though she knew that there was supposed to be a basement below the living room floor, all there was, was a vast pit of nothing.

There were no noises, though, no sights to be seen or sounds to be heard; it didn't seem like Betelgeuse was in there. Hastily, Lydia grabbed at the ring, tugging it hard as she tried to pull it off of her finger, fully intending to throw it into the pit along with its former owner. But the ring wouldn't budge, stuck on either the glove or her finger, it wasn't clear which. Swearing at it like a sailor, Lydia tugged at the ring frantically – it had to come off – and then finally she grabbed the top of the brilliant red opera glove and yanked it down. It came off with no resistance and she threw it in the hole, gasping. She wanted to get this dress off, she wanted to scrub every inch of her body and she wanted copious amounts of mouthwash.

She reached up to push a strand of black hair out of her eyes, but before her hand even touched her hair she froze, feeling all the air go out of her.

The ring was still on her finger.

Oh… hell.

"Lydia? Honey?" It was Barbara's voice, at her left shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Pumpkin?" That was her father, his voice from the opposite side.

"The ring." Lydia couldn't take her eyes off of it. "The ring won't come off." She twisted, whipping around to face the alien. "Why won't it come off?!" Her voice was starting to get hysterical now, and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself. If she was married to that… that…thing…

The alien looked unblinkingly up at her and she couldn't tell if it was annoyed or shocked. "The ceremony has been completed," he said simply, as if that answered everything. "Your marriage certificate will be available for pick up in the Netherworld Connection Offices."

The entire room went dead silent. Lydia didn't know if anyone else said anything, and she didn't care. It felt like her legs couldn't hold her up anymore; she was ready to topple over and she almost wanted to cry – almost.

Then, Barbara's voice, close to tears. "Oh no." Lydia glanced over her shoulder, and Barbara had her hands over her mouth, watching Lydia with horror and regret, and Adam had his hands on the ghost woman's shoulders as if that little contact would make it better, regret clear on his face as well.

"Married?!"

Lydia flinched at the shout, and she turned around, her eyes wide. It wasn't Charles who had yelled, who was standing there – no, her father was still standing where she'd last seen him, his expression one of abject fear – but Delia, her hat clutched in her hand and her face contorted in a rage that very few had seen.

"What in the world are you talking about, my daughter, MARRIED?!" Delia stomped across the floor, wavering on her high heels, her hair a flyaway mess. She looked completely demented, and the little alien creature backed up a few steps at the very sight. "You're insane; I mean, look at her!" Delia whipped around, pointing one long manicured nail at Lydia. "Does she look old enough to consent?!"

The little alien looked at Lydia, then turned back to Delia. "How old is she?"

"SIXTEEN!" That one word was loud enough to rattle the windows in the house.

The alien peered at Lydia once more, then nodded. "She is of age."

"What?! What world are you living in, little man?!" Delia waver-stomped forwards and yet again the little alien backed away. Any other time Lydia would have at least cracked a smile at the sight – her stepmother screaming at an otherworldly creature – but she could barely see the humor in it at all. She almost felt like doing the same, but screaming was Delia's area of expertise.

"The Netherworld," the alien said, his voice going up at the end of the sentence as if it were a question. Then, realizing how he sounded, the alien cleared his throat and added on, "Of course."

"The afterlife doesn't really work like the living world," Adam added in, quietly. Delia spun around and fixed him with a glare that would have stopped a raging rhino in its tracks.

"So I'm married," Lydia said finally, her voice cracking. This didn't seem like it could be real.

The alien turned and focused on her, seeming more than happy to turn away from Delia Deetz. "Yes. Eternal matrimony."

Lydia tried to keep the hope from raising up inside her as an idea popped into her head; maybe, if she could… "Can I get divorced?"

Finally, the alien blinked. He hesitated a moment, glancing around the room. After a few seconds he cleared his throat, looking at Lydia once more. "I am afraid not, unless you have enough evidence to support an annulment."

"Evidence?!" Came Delia's outraged cry. Lydia ignored it, preferring instead to let herself wallow in despair. Evidence for an annulment? She didn't even know where Betelgeuse was, much less how to collect evidence on what a horrible person he was.

The little alien glanced around before muttering something that sounded like "I'll take my leave," and Lydia watched helplessly as the creature waddled back through the fireplace door in a burst of green dusty light. Then, suddenly the fireplace had morphed back to its original shape, leaving the Deetzes, the Maitlands, and whatever Lydia was now – Mrs. Geuse? – in the house.

Despite all of the drama before – despite how she antagonized Delia with her dark outlook on life, despite how she'd considered killing herself – Lydia had never, never felt so helpless, so alone, so depressed.