To Take Back That Which Has Been Stolen From Me

(closed for poohlive)

A Labyrinth Rp inspired greatly by this fanvid. I'm only going to accept people that have watched Labyrinth and have some sort of love for it. For this to work I'm going to need them to actually know what happened, where, why, when, and how. pm if interested with a sample of how you'd play Jareth)

Just fear me, love me, does as I say and I will be your slave.-- Jareth

Defeated by a girl. He was the Goblin King, a member of the Seelie court, a creature that was constantly used as inspiration for the nightmares of children, and yet he'd been defeated by a mortal girl, barely more than a child herself.

He should have never answered her call. Should've just left her there with her crying brother and mild rage at being seemingly abandoned by her father.

She had claimed he loved her, pulling together words from a children's story. As if he would ever deign to love such a paltry mortal, but he had.

It should have only lasted until the thirteen hours were over. He should have only put on the illusion of love as he chased her through the twisting walls and dark corridors. Then he had found what she had claimed so idly in the beginning was true. It wasn't that soft, sweet fairy tale love she had described. It was like him, dark, possessive, and cruel.

So he had offered her everything. He'd offered her her dreams, reorganized time itself, and turned the world upside down, giving her his heart with every demand he made.

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle, beyond the Goblin City, to take back that which has been stolen from me. For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me.

Those words still echoed in his head. She had left safe and sound along with her precious Toby. He had no power over her, but she had power over him now and defeating him had sent the Underground into chaos.

It was all falling apart. The walls were crumbling and even the King of this realm looked haggard beyond repair. He had to find a way to regain his power. she had bared him from seeing her as he was, but there was always a way.

Eventually he found one. A ritual that was far more ancient than even himself. A sacrifice of blood and control, for immortality that would never be threatened by the status of his heart.

____

For Sarah, it had been seven years since that fateful night. She'd defeated a king and had the type of adventure she had always longed for. It was an experience she never wanted to repeat again.

Somehow her step-mom had found her diary all those years ago and was outraged with Sarah for taking her obsession with make-believe so far. She ignored her for the most part, but then they kept fighting about it until one night when she blurted out that it was all true.

She almost summoned the Goblin King again that night, but she didn't want her step-mother to disappear or turn into a goblin, she just wanted her to stop insisting she was right about every thing.

Now that she thought about it, she should have lied to them. Then they wouldn't have made her go to that psychologist and he wouldn't have referred she 'take a break' in one of the state's finest home for girls. She scoffed at that. The home was just a place they put people to forget about them, only this time she wouldn't have Hoggle to pop by with his door.

So she had ran. For years she was on the streets and how she survived without becoming seriously injured or sick was beyond her. Eventually she was taken in by an elderly woman when she was seventeen and with her consent, Mrs. Jenkins won temporary custody from Sarah's parents.

Her life had been good since then. She graduated from college, majoring in Theater, and was doing well to get steady gigs every month or two. Her boyfriend was handsome and sweet and she tried to ignore the fact that he was boring and almost too nice for her tastes.

When the killings started, she just thought it was another crazed murderer out there. Then they got closer to where she lived and she started locking her doors. One night she had spotted him. the Goblin King standing not five feet from the french doors of her and Mrs. Jenkins living room.

He looked so much more terrible than she remembered like what he had shown her last time was tame compared to what he had become. She'd stood there frozen for what seemed forever, just staring at him, waiting for him to make a move. He just grinned. Had his teeth been so pointed before?

Then he dragged a a man only a little younger than her out of from behind him and proceeded to rip out his throat, never looking away from her as he drank the stranger's blood. By the time she had called the cops, Jareth and the man had disappeared. They found his body a day later some two miles away.

And there he was, a man dethroned.

She smelled of silk and lavender, and her fingers caressed his skin with a frightening ease. He gazed down upon her, hungry eyes that were ready to feast. The simple girl mistook those eyes though, and the hunger. She felt a hunger too, beneath her skin. She must have felt a powerful need driving at her for him.

"I am not who you think I am," He purred, as his lips tasted her sweet flesh and the feel of blood pouring so hotly through her veins.

"I don't know who you are."

He had power over her. That is what he wanted. When he moved, she followed, when he kissed she moaned, and by the time his fangs sunk through her skin, she screamed the sad and sorrowful sound of death just for him.

Her body shook, still with pleasure as the last of her precious life went into him. The blood warmed him, fueled him. He growled aloud at his latest conquest, grinning like a fool up at the full moon, its pale bone color shining down upon his features.

The girl lay crumpled on the ground now, eyes staring wide at her own death. She seemed surprised. And yet he could see a happiness through her still blushed cheeks, intense and far too real to ignore. It was not her fault she looked so much like Sarah. Long dark hair and full lips, eyes with specks of color that seemed to pause whenever they glanced upon him.

He had been helpless to take her into the first alley, drain her of everything.

Many of his victims looked like her. They all reminded him of her in some way. The eyes, the hair, sharp features, a soft voice. One day he passed by a nightclub and heard a young girl confess something wicked to her boyfriend, standing next to him and whispering in his ear.

He didn't know what was said, but the words came up to him, his new ears picking them up. They sounded all too familiar.

"You have no power over me..."

He grabbed her from her place in the crowd and snapped her neck. The precious blood of hers spilled down them both, useless as it fell upon the street. He did not care though, as much as he needed blood even a few precious drops could go to waste for her.

Such rage in the beginning, he was lucky it took him months to find her. If he had gotten to her the first night he would have probably only torn her throat out. There would have been no fun, no lingering fear. He would not be able to do to her what she had gone to him.

The Goblin King, as always, had gifts to bring.

And tonight would be no different.

She was back in the masquerade again. That was how she knew this was a dream. She couldn't count how many times her mind had come back to this. An ill gotten peach sending her to place where she dressed in a gown and was searching for him.

Well, she had searched for him. Usually in her dreams she would find him eventually and he'd profess the same promises as last time. Dreams, everything her heart could desire, if only she would let him win. As weeks faded into years, she hadn't found him again. She had searched so many times, but none of those hidden behind cruel masks were the one she was looking for. Eventually she gave up.

This time though something was different. It was the same scene. the same characters dancing around, laughing at her for her confusion, but the air was darker in a way. Somewhere she heard a scream of terror, then another, but no one else around her noticed, blocking her escape as she tried to find a way out.

Then just like before, he was in front of her, holding his hand out in invitation. The smile he wore made her tremble though and she backed away. His smile was cruel and filled with something that promised she would know first hand his wrath.

The crowd pressed in behind her and he calmly walked towards her, grabbing her wrist in a hard grip, pulling her close. He kissed her then. A hard, demanding kiss that left her gasping for breath when he pulled away. Then he bent his head lower as she stood there, unable to escape. His teeth lightly grazed her throat, before he suddenly clamped down, tearing through skin and muscle, blood pouring forth, staining the gauzy white of her gown.

Suddenly Sarah sat up, her eyes wide. Daylight streamed comfortingly through the window as she pried her face away from the book that had gotten attached.

The police hadn't believed her, but they were watching now that they found a body matching the victim's description she had given. For her own part, Sarah had been researching. She didn't understand what had come over Jareth. He was a lot of things, but she didn't think he'd eve been one to drink blood.

Of course she had automatically thought vampire. She would have been stupid not to, but the fact that one of the fae had become one, maybe always been one for all she knew, was a bit of a surprise. He was already immortal. Why would he want to add blood lust to that list.

Last night she stayed up, not letting herself sleep until she saw dawn creeping over the horizon, At a loss for what to do, she'd protected the house from both fae and vampire, hoping the lore for such things were right.

It wasn't hard to press Mrs. Jenkins into never inviting anyone in she did not already know. She'd heard about the murders just like Sarah. It was a little harder to convince the woman to let her spread salt under the doorways and on the window sills, not to mention taping little iron crosses to the doors and windows as well.

At least Mrs. Jenkins would be safe. That was more than Sarah could say about herself. She had to work tonight. In about four hours in fact, well after the sun would set. She was playing in Othello tonight across town.

He dressed up for the occasion, of course. His attire had to be that of a wealthy professional. After all, that is what he had become, isn't it? Wealth and power had been given to him slowly, and now he had such substance to stand upon.

A tailored suit of charcoal gray and deep ebony formed against his body. It helped to emphasize his long limbs, all straight lines when he stood up tall and proud. It matched his eyes, how hungry and menacing they could become when looking upon the right person.

"Give that to her," He said, smiling to an usher as he made his way inside. The young man gave a nod, looking down at the note, and passed it along. Other patrons joined him at the front doors, making their way inside. The wealthy elite and stubborn who either refused to believe theatre to be dead, or thrived in the fact they were witnessing something so beautiful as its requiem.

He sat in the back, spread out among three seats. His arms dangled loosely on the back of the theatre chairs, bored eyes glancing up at the stage. What a night this would be. A performance to remember.

He sat in an empty balcony, front row. She would see him quite easily.

***

The young assistant stage manager hurried in her tasks. She had several notes from the director she was handing out, pausing every few steps to listen to the headset for more instructions.

"They're in place, I checked them myself. Don't worry. No problem with props tonight."

They had nearly misplaced a handkerchief at Saturday's performance, something Nancy still did not think was her fault. Since she was the lowest on the totem pole, she got blamed.

"Everyone make sure to check your props, and only touch your own," She spoke in the green room, for the umpteenth time tonight. Far be it from her to miss another prop.

She glanced back at Sarah walking in through the front door. Nancy smiled at her, and handed her the single rose.

"Your first fan is in the house tonight. MAke sure not to touch anyone else's props."

And Nancy was off, in a world of other chores she had to do before curtain.

The rose was blood red, many thorns running up its long side. It had a single note attached to it.

To the one who set me free.
J

Sarah dropped the rose like it had burned her, staring at the crimson petals with wide eyes. He was here, tonight, now. Her heart pounded in her chest, bewildered of what course of action she should take. Nervously, fingers drifted to the cross she had bought yesterday, along with all the others.

Most probably would have taken refuge in the fact that they were in a public place. All eyes would be on her tonight as she portrayed the tragic Desdemona. Sarah was not niave enough to think he would or could not try anything while so many eyes were trained on her.

She was tempted to turn around and run back home. What did this play matter? She was being threatened by a Goblin King turned vampire. Sarah had learned one thing in the Underground, though. Life was anything but fair and running away from it would never solve anything.

Steeling her resolve, Sarah walked towards the women's dressing room, slipping off her clothes in a flurry of nude flesh, too much makeup, and gauzy material. When everything was said and done, up close Sarah looked like a bad prostitute, but that was theater make-up for you. If it wasn't slathered on thick enough she would look washed out and life less. underneath those bright lights.

She didn't even appear in the play until the third act. even though she'd come so much later than the others, she still sat there in a chair waiting for her cue, nervously fidgeting with the brocade gown. Hearing her cue, she stood up, studiously avoiding a peek at the audience, she entered on the stage with a few other actors.

"My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided duty:
To you I am bound for life and education;
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty;
I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband,
And so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor my lord."

Then her breath caught in her throat, she'd let her eyes stray from those near her, catching an all too familiar gaze. Gary had to repeat his line twice for her to snap out of it.

" Nor I; I would not there reside,
To put my father in impatient thoughts
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;
And let me find a charter in your voice,
To assist my simpleness."

The rest of the play went smoothly enough. Betrayal was had. She was smothered to death. Fun times. Then the crowd filtered out to the lobby waiting to greet the talented actors they had just seen. Sarah jumped when an arm curled around her waist as soon as she entered the lobby, make up now washed off but still in Desdemonda's dress.

Relief washed through her when she only met the green eyes of Roger, her boyfriend. He was laughing at her reaction and then bent down to give her a quick peck on the lips.

"What has you so jumpy this evening? You were wonderful up there"

She commanded the stage. The presence felt as she spoke her lines, quiet and eloquent made him memorize every nuance of her body. She lived inside of the play, her imagination throwing her deep into this pretend world so much she embraced it and lived it as her own.

She must have a world of experience doing that.

He clapped and cheered when she came out to bow. He stood with many others at the roaring ovation she was given. The audience loved her.

The goblin king enjoyed her getting what she deserved in the end.

Outside he lingered long enough to see her come out. Someone came up and kissed her. There could be love in the way they touched. Poor Sarah looked too jittery to feel it though. Had she been frightened by his presence? He hoped not.

He only wanted to say hello.

He didn't come up to meet her in the hallway, filled with dozens of others. Instead he slipped back into the bowels of the theatre, finding her dressing room. It was small and simple, with her regular clothes piled up on one side and a few random dresses on the other. A vanity over a sink for makeup and little else.

He waited until she opened the door, and slowly closed it for her.

"It was a... riveting performane," He said, holding up an old masque in front of his face, the simple bone color of one that he had once used years before to court her.

"You had me at the edge of my seat, Sarah. How proud you should be."

The mask slowly fell from his face, his features revealed. Sharp, distinct, cold, and pale, much more so than she remembered. His eyes were fixed, translucent upon her. He took a step closer.

"I don't see your rose..." He said, glancing around.

"What do you say to coffee at O'Hara's tonight? Just the two of us."

Roger kissed her forehead, worry in his eyes now. She'd been searching the room for the past half hour, afraid that any moment she would spot Jareth and then... she didn't know what. Roger was already looking at her like she was close to have a mental breakdown and she sort of felt like that too. She was very stressed, but she couldn't just pop out and say that the Goblin King, whom she'd defeated when she was fifteen, had somehow acquired a taste for blood and was here tonight and would probably try something with or without the public eye around.

She couldn't. So she just smiled and gave her boyfriend a hug, more to comfort him than herself.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so tired what with the play and everything. I'll take a rain check though."

Guests were finally dispersing and most of the players were getting ready to pack up and go for the night, some for a midnight snack as was tradition. Roger was a little miffed and he left her to get out of her costume alone. Sarah couldn't say she minded. She hadn't seen Jareth since that one mishap at the beginning of Othello. He'd probably just been trying to scare her and had done a damn good job of it too.

It didn't matter that she couldn't see his face. She knew him instantly. If she had ever continued to carry that silly girlhood crush around for him, she would have said he was ingrained on her very soul. She knew him far too well.

It was because of this that she feared him, something he had once asked from her, but she had not given until recently. For Jareth had changed, despite the familiarity. He was himself, but more of it. Was it because she'd changed as well, grown up. Did he mirror the darker edges of her mind? No, that was Alice in Wonderland and this wasn't a story.

When he stepped towards her, Sarah stepped back. It was instinct, the undeniable will to survive. She'd seen him murder someone, and knew he'd done it before and would do so again. All she had were words and a cross around her neck to protect herself against him

"I don't see your rose..."

His words shocked her into a response..one that had very little with what he said.

"Get out of here, Jareth. I didn't ask for you to come here."

"Must you ask?" He said, anger fighting off from his words. He took another step towards her, watching her with another step back. It was cute and playful, like a dance they were both doing, knowing in the end just what would happen. The small room did not give her much opportunity for steps back.

"Yes, I remember now. The Goblin King comes only when he is called. Your old story book, the rules... those only apply to the Goblin King, Sarah."

He took another step. The dance continued. Left and right, right and left. His eyes searched over hers. She was covered not in the simple clothing she wore before but the dress of a woman who had just died. A death dress, and now calling to one of undeath before him.

He growled, "You ripped me of that title a long time ago. Do you not remember? I lost the power a king posesses. The rules, your precious rules no longer apply to me. I am here, of my own accord."

One more step, and her back pressed against the wall. He took the opportunity to rush to her. Even though the distance he had to cover was only a few such feet, he was upon her in a heartbeat. His hand crept up beside her, body forcing her back against the wall.

"What is that you used to say?" He spoke quietly now, his cheek brushing up against hers, such a soft and loving whisper against her ear, "You have no power over me... isn't that right?"

One hand slowly slid up the dress, fingers running across her thigh and up against her body.

"Must you ask? Yes, I remember now. The Goblin King comes only when he is called. Your old story book, the rules... those only apply to the Goblin King, Sarah."

You're him, aren't you? You're the Goblin King. Those words came back to her now. Those first words after he'd appeared before her, so much more real than her daydreams. She was surprised that it no longer applied.

Sarah wasn't fooled. Jareth's voice was calm, but he still sounded like when she'd told him the labyrinth was a peice of cake, right before the Cleaners came. She knew better now, not like back then, when she thought bravery would save her. Still what else did she have? He continued to come near her, completely unswayed by the cross. Make that one vampire myth gone. Of course it could just be something particular to him.

"You ripped me of that title a long time ago. Do you not remember? I lost the power a king posesses. The rules, your precious rules no longer apply to me. I am here, of my own accord."

As soon as she touched the wall, Jareth was upon her. He was touching her, his hand running over her dress, the layers doing nothing to protect her from the feel of him. His breath was soft against her ear, as was his voice, almost like a caress, but a shiver ran down her spine. He was as cold as death.

"What is that you used to say? You have no power over me... isn't that right?"

"You don't. You never will. You have no power over me."

Her words were strong, at odds with her frantic heart beat. He may no longer have been the Goblin King, but he was still Jareth. Maybe that would be enough for it to work. She didn't stop to think that when it came to Jareth, those words were a lie.

The way her body fought, desperate against the hard wall pressing against her drove him wild. His fingers continued their slow trail up her body, a slow ascent up the dress until he could pry at the neck line.

He pulled it open enough to reveal her breasts, heaving with the frantic pace of her heart and her breath.

"Is that true? None whatsoever?" He glanced down her body, watching her chest rise and fall the way it did. His hand went to her heart, feeling it beat so hard, so fast inside of her chest. Such warm blood coarsing throughout her.

His own need rose at the thought of it.

"Your heart beats so... hard, so wild in your chest. Why is that? Would you be afraid of me? What I might do to you?"

He had caught her. The willing soul became the tortured captive. There would be no more sayings for her now, no storybook to tell her how this must end. She could always just enjoy her time left over, and accept the inevitable.

He reached down to her, his lips brushing against hers.

"I promise to make it feel good," He said, softly, kissing her for the first time, lusting after her lips as much now as he had years ago.

"I promise you won't feel a thing."

Sarah told herself that it was the cold of his skin, making her nipples begin to harden as he pressed hand over her heart. The blood had rushed to her cheeks.

"Your heart beats so... hard, so wild in your chest. Why is that? Would you be afraid of me? What I might do to you?"

She wanted to scream at him. Of course she was afraid. She'd have to be a fool not to be afraid. He was going to kill her. His every action spoke of it, along with the fact that he seemed to also wished to play with his food.

"I promise to make it feel good. I promise you won't feel a thing."

She'd never known Jareth to lie before. Twist the truth, yes, but never lie. His words had contradicted each other this time though. She may not be feeling pain quite yet, but she was definitely feeling something. A soft whimper escaped her lips when she pulled her head back and spoke.

"Bullshit"

What could she use against him now? She swung her eyes around the room, frantic for an idea. She paused on a chair, wondering if she could manage snap a leg off and use it as a stake. She didn't think of killing him though. Her thoughts led right up to that point and veered away. It didn't matter. There was nothing here in this room she could get to even if she tried.

She shouldn't have come out tonight and shouldn't have depended upon the cross around her neck to save her. Why hadn't it worked? Maybe it just needed to come in contact with him. Steeling her nerves, Sarahe ripped the chain from her throat and pressed the iron cross against his hand.

She was rewarded with a hiss of pain and a momentary lapse in Jareth's tight hold on her. Sarah didn't see the look on his face. She could easily imagine the rage there as she ran, pausing only long enough to grab her things. Nancy would have a heart attack when she found Desdemona's morbid garb was missing, but all that mattered to her now was getting in her car and leaving.

His rage came out against the scream. He felt so close to her. Only a second remained before his sharp fangs would have buried themselves into her tender flesh, taking what had once and truly belonged to him. Instead, the bright flash of pain erupted throughout his body.

He fell blindly against the wall, his hands like claws trying to search out his victim once more. Instead of finding her, he felt the last satin traces of her dress as she ran out. Clinging to empty air, he screamed again.

He could not see. When he opened his eyes flashes of red and white blanketed his vision. He went to search for her, turning around, flailing about the room. He grabbed sets of clothing, empty hangers, nothing alive or useful to him.

He tore the room apart, searching for the door. His anger only fueled what immense strength he now had, trying to get at her once more.

The pain subsided, slowly. The flashes left him, and soon he could rush to escape to catch up to her.

Outside in the parking lot, she had vanished though. He saw no sign of her or her car. A low and desperate growl emerged from him. Once more so close to her, once more able to feel her against him and she still eluded him. How could she do this? Every time they could grab at this connection, she slipped away silently into the night.

He had to find her again. Where would she go? Her house? Boyfriends? Step mothers?

He would try them all. Search for her for the rest of the night. He had until sunrise, it would not be hard to find her before then.

She drove around for an hour, her eyes constantly searching the night, jumping at any sudden sound or movement. She held no disillusions of what her murder could have been. He wasn't offering her dreams this time, but nightmares.

Sarah had nowhere to turn to. Her family had moved cross-country last year and Roger lived with his parents. She didn't want to put any of them in danger anyways. She truly hoped that Mrs. Jenkins stayed in her house. She was pretty sure now that she'd be safe inside. At least, as long as Sarah wasn't there to tempt Jareth's entry.

She finally came to the decision of an old church. Hardly anyone ever went there and it would have been closed down years ago, but the building was privately owned by the parishioner. Sarah had been here a lot last year, taking photos of the centuries old cemetary outside its' doors for her photography class.

Now her mind clung to the thought of hallowed ground, and she slipped inside the church. Most people felt that Father Thomas should lock these doors, but he firmly believed that the church should always offer some form of sanctuary and she was glad of that now.

The church was dark though and silent, save for something she eventually realized as snoring. Father Thomas was in his private rooms, sleeping. Sighing, Sarah undressed in the dark, slipping her street clothes back on now.

"Well, any friend of Sarah's is a friend of mine, please do come in."

Jareth crossed the threshold with the brightest of smiles on his face. They revealed his wonderous teeth, hungry and dangerous and razor sharp.

"How kind of you Mrs. Jenkins."

"Please, call me Susan."

Jareth took careful steps as he entered the house, hollow soft footfalls on the wooden floor made an eerie noise. Mrs. Jenkins suddenly got one of those cold tremors rumbling up her spine.

"Would you like some tea?"

Jareth nodded absently, his dark new eyes able to see so much more than before. They bounced on every item he could see. The couch and tv and stand and lamp, before eyeing their way upstairs.

"She didn't come home?"

Mrs. Jenkins was in the other room, pouring water into a kettle.

"You know those actor types, they always go out to celebrate themselves. Sometimes she doesn't get home until two or three in the morning. Poor thing, keeps me up at night."

Jareth ran his hand along the bannister, its wooden feel uncomfortable. The wound she had given him earlier sprang to life. He hissed softly in the room.

"What was that?"

Jareth bit his lower lip until he could taste someone else's wonderful blood in his mouth.

"I take mine with sugar, Susan," He said softly.

They sat down, two cups of tea, enjoying each other's company. Jareth asked all sorts of questions about Sarah. She had been quite a busy girl in his absense. College and boys and theatre life. She had grown into a woman during his absence. The girl becomes the woman, and the king becomes the monster.

How unfair.

"Two or three in the morning you say?" He asked, after an hour or so had passed. Mrs. Jenkins nodded solemnly.

"I'm sorry, I thought because of tonight she would come home early. I didn't mean to keep you."

"Tonight?"

"She's been acting so strange since she saw someone murdered outside. They found the body only a few miles from here. It gave me goosebumps, to hear such a tale like that. Those things are supposed to be in the movies, not on your front lawn."

Jareth nodded, solemly, taking her hand in his own to sooth her. Despite her age he could feel her strong heart, beating within her hand. A surge of strength ran through him.

"Perhaps if you called her?"

Jenkins nodded. It seemed as if she would do anything for the young stranger now. All she had to do was look in his eyes, and that small suggestion would take her wherever he wanted to lead her. A small trick he had learned long before this power of blood had come through his body.

She picked up her phone, dialing Sarah's cell.

"Where are you?" Mrs. Jenkins voice sounded so scared, "One of your old friends came over to visit. He's been waiting here for you. He said he never got a chance to properly congratulate you after the play..."

Jareth moved closer, his ears able to pick up every sound, every nuance.

Snoring in the background?

"Where is she?" He mouthed the words, as Mrs. Jenkins spoke them.

"Where are you?"

Sarah jumped, clapping a hand over her mouth, when she felt her phone vibrate in her pants. She'd almost been asleep. The stress from the past few days were wearing on her. The caller id said it was from home. Sarah frowned. Her adopted mother as it was usually was asleep by this time. She'd stay up for Sarah, but she more or less tended to nod off in the living room after about ten.

"Jareth."

She whispered his name, some part of her afraid of doing so. She'd been so careful all these years. Calling him is what had gotten her into all this, she hadn't wanted to even tempt fate, even if she wasn't exactly wishing for him. He had said that he wasn't the Goblin King anymore, though. That the rules no longer applied to him. Maybe names no longer held power either.

It was only trhough her experience in acting that she was able to put a cheery, faintly confused tone to her voice when she answered.

"Hello?"

"Where are you? One of your old friends came over to visit. He's been waiting here for you. He said he never got a chance to properly congratulate you after the play..."

She dearly hoped the pounding in her heart was not audible enough to here over a phone line. That would definitely give her away. Mrs. Jenkins sounded scared, worried. At least she wasn't petrified. At least then Jareth had done nothing to harm her. Maybe she could save her if he'd left her hale and healthy all this time. There was a gentle chiding tone when she responded.

"Mama Hunny, you shouldn't have let someone in. You know there's a murderer on the loose. You should call me before you do that. You know my friends, always trying to set up some prank in my room."

"Where are you?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. She could just picture Jareth on the other side of the phone, pushing her for information. It only served to make her mad. He could leave the elderly woman the hell alone. If he did anything to her, she'd kill him herself if she had to. That woman had been a saving grace all these years.

"Oh. you know. Out and about. I'm at a friend's now, right around Saint Andrew's."

It wasn't exactly a lie. She was in St. Andrews, even if she'd never once had a friend that lived here, unless you counted a seventy year-old parishioner as a friend. She needed to say something though. Anything really to get Jareth out of that house.

"Are you wearing that necklace I gave you? I was afraid you might not like it."

"Yes dear of course it is quite a beautiful cross. You know how I like amethysts. It's right here around my neck. Are you coming home soon?"

"Oh no. I'm going to spend the night here. I'm a bit tuckered out. I don't want to drive all that way only to get in a wreck because I couldn't keep my eyes open. So make sure to lock up when my friend leaves. I'll talk to him tomorrow. Such a pity that I missed him."

With a few more small matters out of the way, Mrs. Jenkins hung up, saying she was waving goodbye to Sarah's friend. Sarah just hoped he'd stay the hell out of there. When she hung up the phone, she did something she had not done for awhile. She prayed. Lord knows she needed it.

The rage turned into a dull throb of ache at the back of his head by the time the first whispers of dawn showed themselves rising from the east. It didn't disappear, but without anything to pinpoint it and harvest it, the energy running through his body just became spent up.

And that made him weak.

He wished to feed again.

He had so longed for Sarah to be his latest victim, his last victim before he achieved what he truly was once more. Instead, the longer he stayed out here the more he realized his dream would have to wait another day.

He smelled her inside the church.

How unfortunate.

St. Andrews had been easy enough to find. He wasn't sure it would pan out, but caught her scent just as he neared the place. He checked each house, at times tip toeing passed sleeping couples and young children. His eyes were bright red and his fangs dripping with saliva, but instead he waited for Sarah.

He sat atop her car and waited. She never emerged. She would hide in there all night. Once morning came she would feel safe again and emerge.

Hunger growled against him, turning that dull ache into actual pain in his body.

He had used too much strength with her. The cross had been an unfortunate misstep. Once more proved his own pride of strength and her undire resourcefulness. It would not happen again.

He had to feed before the sun came.

And so he did.

She would be waiting for her, outside the front gates, on the lawn. She was spread out wide, arms and legs in a cartwheel. Her wrists were cut open wide, her throat torn out with as much ferocity as any rabid animal. She had black hair, a young face, and looked almost as if she could have been Sarah's younger sister. The features wonderful similar.

By the time the sun rose, Jareth was long gone in slumber. The new strength of his latest victim swelling within him.

It was the screaming that woke her up. Bolting up quickly, Sarah failed to realize how precarious her perch on the church pew was and toppled hard onto the stone floor. Daylight streamed through the thick, grimy windows, informing her that indeed the sun had risen and no harm had befallen her by a certain ex-Goblin King.

There were more screams now and she scrambled to stand up, rubbing her sore ass. Gentle snoring still came from the parish. Apparently Father Thomas was a very hard sleeper. The noise outside could wake the dead, she was sure.

Sarah wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting when she opened the church door. She'd been naive enough to think that since she'd not seen hide nor hair of Jareth for the rest of the night, that all was well. She was a bit afraid for Mrs. Jenkins but had studiously not allowed herself to linger upon how the elder woman might have met some peril.

She gave a little scream of her own before she fully realized what was displayed before her eyes. It was a girl. She couldn't have been much more than eighteen, dressed up as if she was going or had come from some party or other.To her, it didn't matter if she bared a resemblance to herself. It could have been anyone at all and the message still would have been crystal clear.

Jareth had been here and that girl had been her replacement.

Besides the corpse bled of life on the church's lawn, Sarah was the first thing the cops spotted when they came upon the scene. She was sitting on the hood of her car, cell phone in her hands, a deceiving look of calm on her face. She was scared as hell, but if she panicked, she'd be dead, even now during the day, she wasn't safe from Jareth. One moment of panic could be her doom.

Mrs. Jenkins was fine to Sarah's distinct relief. It took half an hour of arguments, but she wouldn't be denied. Mrs. Jenkins was going out of town, now, before anything could happen to her. There were too many victims on her head, she wasn't going to let her be one of them.

The police were surprised to find her there, but that didn't stop them from snapping handcuffs around her wrists. She wasn't under arrest exactly, but she was now a suspect. Once was a coincidence, but twice especially in a course of a week, of being somehow involved with what seemed like a string of serial murders was too much evidence for them not to take her in.

She didn't struggle, rather expecting it. The truth of the matter would have only mad them think she was even more guilty than before.

The detective had eaten a few too many donuts in his time. The brown simple suit he had bought years ago now look strained and stretched over his frame. When he had just bought it, dry cleaned and ironed and smelling oh so good he might have looked good, handsome, perhaps even regal.

Now he looked bloated and wet, a sheen of sweat rolling off into his undershirt. The ring around his collar was almost a dark brown.

"You wanna tell me what you were doing in an old church all night?"

He sat crooked on the chair. Both of his legs were out, helping to support himself. The wooden legs underneath him seemed to buckle every time he breathed.

"We just want to get the facts straight," She had told her story many times though. The fact that the detective kept making her repeat it was to look for holes, see if he could tear her story apart and make her confess. It was a good tactic.

They'd had her in here all day, asking questions and making he look at photos of the crime scene.

Outside it was nearing dark. The clock, an old time school clock with the second hand slowly ticking away the minutes said it was after six.

"I think it's very interesting that she looks so much like you. Broken, bruised and mutilated. Is that some sort of cry for help? You see yourself as damaged, you want to lash out but don't know how?"

He had taken a few psychology courses at the local community college.

Sarah sighed. They'd bee at this for hours. She had a headache and it was showing signs of quickly turning into a full blown migraine.

She'd been exceedingly patient, in her opinion. She knew this man was just trying to do his job. She knew she looked suspicious as hell. She also knew that she really couldn't tell them the truth at all.

"No. I don't want to lash out at anyone. I was sleeping in the church. Last I checked, Father Thomas still doesn't consider that trespassing."

Irritation was finally creeping into her voice. The chair against her back was metal and stiff. Despite the fact that she'd been sitting in the same spot for so long, most of it's buffed surface had yet to warm up.

Idly, Sarah wondered how much Nancy was probably freaking out by now. How much everyone was freaking out. She not only had yet to show up, but had taken a costume as well. While she knew the understudy was competent enough, she wasn't sure if wardrobe had an extra dress.

A hand slammed on the table in front of her, making her snap out of her thoughts.

"Are you listening to me!? You killed that girl as some sort of substitute for killing yourself. Did you regret not being able to do it all that time you were on the streets?!"

Sarah flinched more from the fact that his mouth was not five inches from her ear as yelled, rather than from his words. It was true that she didn't linger on her memories of huddling under bridges and going through trash for food, but she'd never actually been depressed enough to try and kill herself, even if the thought had crossed her mind a few times.

Turning her head away from the officer, her eyes settled on the clock. Cursing under her breath, she squeezed her eyes shut before staring at the circular time peice again. The thing read about six-thirty. The sun was setting now and she knew that night was on its' way. That wasn't why she cursed though.

For a moment the clock had held thirteen numbers instead of twelve. Jareth wasn't crawling out of the ground, or on his way. He was here.

"I think she's had enough, don't you?" The door opened and that cool confidence in his voice returned as Jareth entered the room. He wore a suit, much the same like Sarah's sweating friend here, although it fit Jareth much better. His eyes were alive now, bright and brown. They drank her in as she sat on the other side of the table.

"Yeah... yeah," The sargeant didn't react much. All of a sudden his words were sluggish, slowed. He looked as if he were either going out of a dream, or perhaps permanently inside of one. Either way at Jareth's command he stood up and walked out the door.

"Don't leave town," He said to the girl, but whatever anger or strength that was supposed to be in that threat shriveled as he walked out the door.

Jareth sat down in the chair opposite of her. He had a small permanent smile on her face.

"I hope they've been treating you well."

When he smiled bigger, she could see his rows of teeth. Razor sharp and hungry, hungry for her blood.

"Will you keep playing this game, Sarah? Do I have to threaten your friends, family? Do I need to slash little Roger's throat before you understand?"

Her heart was already dancing a merry pace in her chest before he entered, now she was sure it would just burst straight through her ribs. She was afraid. Something, she was sure Jareth was just loving. To her surprise the detective didn't even question who he was and walked out with some half hearted warning not to leave town. Like she could if she even wanted to, like even if she succeeded that would save her.

She glared at the fae/vampire bastard as he sat down. The row of gleaming teeth he displayed made her mentally shuddered, but she stayed the instinct to do so physically.

"Will you keep playing this game, Sarah? Do I have to threaten your friends, family? Do I need to slash little Roger's throat before you understand?"

Instead of cowing her, his words just managed to piss her off. This was some sort of game to him. Of course it was, everything she'd ever known about him indicated he viewed life, or lack there of, as such. He had the gale to act like this was her fault. She hadn't started this. She wasn't the one who had given power to her words in the first place. She wasn't the one who answered the call of a teenage girl all those years ago.

"And I'm supposed to what? Let you murder me? Will that really make anything better Jareth? Will it ever change the fact that you lost?"

Anger made her bold. She would have stood up if she could, using that much height to prove her point. With her hands still handcuffed behind her back though, she'd probably either end up toppling back into her chair or landing face first into the desk. Which would completely nullify the point of such a move.

The ripple of uncertainty crossed over his face. She brought up unpleasant memories, and a growl escaped his lips. His hands were clawing into the wooden table before them, rows of his fingernails apparent.

"I only want to do to you what you did to me. Isn't that fair enough? You destroyed everything in my life, and now I am doing the same for you."

He took out her cell phone, sliding it across the table at her. It flashed that there were a good dozen messages for her. She had never gotten her phone call to tell anyone where she was.

"And we keep playing this game. I hunt and you run. I set up the labrynth, and you keep finding a way out of it. Aren't you tired of all that, findings ways to outsmart me, trying to keep yourself one step ahead?"

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. He had heard it once before, when he got to wear such a crown.

He got up, walking around the table toward her. He smiled when she shifted her weight, but when his hands came up to grab her they only caught the handcuffs instead.

He released her.

He caressed her soft cheek.

"Do you wish to keep running, Sarah? I can always open the door for you. We can begin the night anew with another hunt."

He hadn't answered her question, not quite, keeping the answer hidden behind pretty words. Insisting it was ultimately her choice how they came about her death. Why was she not surprised?

She was surprised when he came behind her, releasing her bound hands. He could kill her here, now. He accused her of playing games when he seemed dead set on cat and mouse.

"Do you wish to keep running, Sarah? I can always open the door for you. We can begin the night anew with another hunt."

His hand was on her cheek, burning against her skin despite the cold of death he had acquired. Sarah did her very best to ignore it, refusing to meet his gaze as she rubbed her sore wrists.

He called for another hunt, another chance to hurt her by hurting those around her. He was enjoying this too much for her liking. Standing up, she glared at him as hand fell. What did it matter if she said yes? Her life meant so very little compared to others. Still at that moment she found she was very selfish. She wanted to live.

A song pierced the tense silence, her ringtone, and she cringed when she heard it. It was one of his songs. Roger had heard her humming it and gave her the tune for her birthday. He'd put a lot of effort into it, so she excused her using it as a way to identify Roger. Reaching her hand out, she ignored Jareth's gaze and flipped the cell open.

"Sarah! Where the hell are you?! I've called you about twenty times now. Nancy says your dressing room is trashed and I find Mrs. Jenkins gone. I was just about to go to the police, if you didn't answer. I didn't know what had happened. Are you ok?!"

Her voice was almost disturbingly calm after that outburst.

"Roger, I'm fine. Wherever you are, I need you to leave, now. Go out of town and go clubbing or something. Just leave."

Sarah didn't know what he said in response, though she could her the angry and confused tirade on the other line begin before she hung up the phone. She still didn't bother looking at the de-throned king, choosing instead to show much too much interest in sliding her cell phone into her jeans.

"We end this, Jareth. I don't know how but I'm not going to let you kill me for the sake of your ego. "

His hand slipped from her cheek to her neck. There he could feel what he had longed for all this time. Blood running so hot, so fast within her body. Her heart had gone on overdrive since he came through the door. First he could hear it, the pounding of a bass drum to his ears. Now, with his hand so close, fingers trailing along her skin and feeling the thrum of the veins beneath, he could feel it as well.

Life. So much of it inside of her. So much for him to take.

"Is this another negotiation?" He asked, slipping around behind her and tasting the spot on her neck where he would bite first. It would have to be just here, his lips found it. Below her ear, just at the base of her neck. Here his tongue lingered, he he could almost taste her sweet blood.

"Do you still have words to use sweet Sarah? Is there another passage from that book of yours that might break my spell once more?"

Even her skin tasted sweet. Not as sweet as the blood running beneath it. Still, he could not help but enjoy every moment of it. There would be a sense of accomplishment and regret when he tore her body apart.

Yet, he could not help but linger here.

His eyes lingered on the cross still around her neck. As nice and playful as he was, he kept a tight grip on one of her hands. She would not be able to play the same trick twice.

"The once proud goblin king always deals in trade, you know that Sarah... being one of my best customers. My last customer. What do you have for me this time, worth more than your precious life?"

"Is this another negotiation?"

Sarah froze when his lips touched her neck, her eyes wide, her heart beating just abite more. She told herself that it was from fear. It was logical to fear him, this. To fear the fact that her pulse rushed right beneath his tongue.

"Do you still have words to use sweet Sarah? Is there another passage from that book of yours that might break my spell once more?"

There was nothing in that time-worn book. She'd looked that first day after she saw him kill in front of her. She'd pulled out from deep within her closet and thumbed through the pages she still knew from emmory after all these years. That story was for children, for her when she was a child. It spoke of a darkly magnificent king that fell in love with a princess. It did not mention a mortal trying to thwart that now former king from killing her.

The only thing she could think of was the cross around her neck, but it seemed Jareth had anticipated that, has hand tight around hers.

"The once proud goblin king always deals in trade, you know that Sarah... being one of my best customers. My last customer. What do you have for me this time, worth more than your precious life?"

Give me the child..

Her own words echoed back at her. What had she offered him before? She'd wished Toby away but that was the first thing he had offered her, not vice versa. Surely he didn't want and eight year-old boy and even if he did, she would never give her half-brother to him, not again.

Sarah frantically searched for something to say. There was nothing she had and even if she had the ability to give anything, she doubted there was anything he wanted in this world.

"The Labyrinth. The Underground. Your throne. I'll give them back."