DISCLAIMER: Labyrinth and all associated characters are the property of the Jim Henson Company. I do not own any of them.

AN: Well, aren't I a big fat liar? I said "I'M DONE WITH FANFIC" and this doozy comes along. Well, I guess I'm tired of "good guy" Jareth (not that I don't like him, I'm just feeling that way), so I reintroduce "bad guy" Jareth. Ooooh, naughty boy. Enjoy.

Sleep claimed her with her rosy cheek resting on the crisp pillowcase, her silken hair cascading over the curve of the bed. She was falling, falling, in a world so unlike her own, so very like on she had recently visited. She closed her eyes and it seemed to take an eternity for the simple action to occur. When they opened, she found herself in a familiar ballroom, pillows strewn across the floor, mirrors and gilded furniture littering the area. It was different from before, empty, somewhat desolate. As she turned her head, she caught sight of her gown, flowing in crystalline moonlight. She could feel her hair swept up into a mass of curls, entwined with silvery adornments. Her eyes scanned the room and a tiny inkling of fear spread through her – she didn’t know why, or what the cause was; it was simply there.

Her eyes fell upon a lone figure in the center of the room. His wild, platinum hair streaked through with a brilliant blue. As unnatural as the colour was, it seemed only natural to be a part of him. He was leaning on a walking stick and staring at his feet with the most alarming, gentle smirk playing on his lips. He looked like a young boy who was attempting to charm his way out of trouble. He was trouble and Sarah knew it. She said nothing to him, remaining perfectly still as though hoping that he would take no notice of her. It was then that his extraordinary eyes shot up to her face. Her intake of breath was sharp, but still she said nothing.

“Hello, Sarah,” he said with his softly penetrating voice. He was looking at his feet again and still Sarah could not muster the courage to say a word.

Taking little note of her silence, his eyes were upon her once more and he stalked towards her with a cocky self-assurance. Sarah swallowed her fear and still said not a word. His amusement seemed to increase and his smirk twisted into a bit of a leer as he ran a gloved finger along her cheek.

“So soft, so ripe,” he whispered, staring at her flushed skin. “Just like a peach.”

Now she could no longer pretend that he did not see her, no longer imagine that he was simply a figment in her mind – her green eyes shot up and stared into his. He stifled a chuckle and withdrew his hand.

“I would have let you have everything,” he stated, a little harshly. “I would have given you so much in return for your love.”

He paused and watched her as though her wide eyes would give away any regret. His smile turned predatory at once. “Your fear,” he continued, amused. “Your…obedience.”

Sarah stared at him, completely at a loss for words. What could she say to him? How could she mend his heart? Suddenly she remembered something important. Or, did she remember? Almost remembered. He turned from her abruptly, swinging his walking stick in the air haphazardly as he went.

“I shall have to settle on the latter, I suppose.”

“What?” Sarah asked, her voice the barest of whispers. Jareth turned with a small, pleased smile.

“The latter,” he repeated, pointedly.

“I…,” Sarah started, flustered. “I heard but what do you mean?”

Jareth glanced up towards the ceiling, seemingly contemplating her question. “Obedience,” he said crisply. “Yours.”

“No,” she said defiantly, a little strength returning to her. “I didn’t take my dreams.”

“But I decided to give them to you anyway. Isn’t that generous?” His eyes narrowed as he watched her, all amusement gone from his face. There was something cruel lurking just beyond, something that made Sarah’s skin crawl.

“But,” Sarah continued stubbornly.

“But what?” Jareth interrupted, his voice becoming louder with each word. Sarah shrank back from the menace he projected. He flared his arms wide. “Don’t you like your dream, Sarah?”

Sarah shook her head soundlessly, the tiny baubles in her hair jingling with the movement. Jareth’s face seemed to melt into something a little more benevolent.

“This is your dream, Sarah,” he said softly, his voice caressing her ears. Somehow she found her strength.

“Then I want to wake up,” she replied forcefully.

Jareth tossed his head back and laughed fully. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he said, twisting the head of his walking stick, the bottom falling away to reveal a thin swordstick. He aimed the sword at her throat as he re-approached her and Sarah was frozen with fear. A strong hand gripped her shoulder forcefully and dragged her forward, the swordstick resting against the other side of her neck. Jareth turned his head, feather light wisps of his hair tickling her cheek as he leaned in to her ear.

“This is a dream from which you will never wake, Sarah. My pet,” he whispered, his hot, moist breath tickling her ear and sending goose bumps down her spine. He pulled back slightly, leaving the sword against her neck and his never loosening his grip.

“I see I shan’t have to worry about fear. We’ll have to work on love,” he said flippantly, shrugging a bit. “And you shall always do as I say.”

Realization seemed to overtake her and her eyes became clear with determination. However, the Goblin King had seen that look before.

“You have n…,” she started. Her words were cut short by a pair of insistent lips, crushing her own with bruising force.

“Now, now,” he said crisply. “None of that.”

Sarah’s eyes had glazed over with confusion and Jareth used the shock to his full advantage.

“You must be famished,” he said as he produced a peach on his fingertips. “Would you like a peach?”

Sarah’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head madly. His pleasant expression hardened.

“Eat this peach, Sarah,” he commanded softly.

Sarah blinked. It took all her effort not to nod her head, which seemed to want to move on its own. She would have to rely on her voice instead. She opened her mouth, a denial hard upon her lips.

“Yes, sire,” she replied meekly. Sarah felt her hands take the peach from Jareth’s and watched as his face spread into a deeply cruel, highly amused grin. It was as though her body obeyed his every command. As she bit into the peach, she felt a stream of warm juice dribble down her chin. Sadly, she also recognized the hot sting of tears streaming down her cheeks.

Just fear me. She was terrified. Just love me. But he could never know. Just do as I say. She had no choice. Somehow the dreams of Sarah Williams had become nightmares. And, somehow the nightmares had become reality.