Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth, Sarah or Jareth. I care nothing for owning Labyrinth or Sarah, but Jareth – *ahem* well, let's just say I'd be happy to own him. *wistful sigh*

Warning: Rated T for innuendo, some minor language and norti thoughts. Rating may change (depends on how choco-fied my muse is when I write the last chapter).

No goblins were harmed in the writing of this story, although several were emotionally scarred when they found out what the item in the brown paper wrapping was really for, they were then promptly bogged by Sarah for nicking it in the first place.

Author's Note: Please review. Reviews make me happy and give me inspiration to keep writing! :)

Of Dreams, Wishes and Brown Wrapping Paper

Ch. 1: Mr. Sandman, Send Me a Dream

It was all Jareth's fault.

At least, that was Sarah's story and she was sticking to it with dogged determination that would make Sir Didymus look like a kit in arms. In considering the situation, Sarah rationalized her placement of blame with a truly goblin-esque sense of logic – Jareth himself would have been proud of it. At least he would have been, had he been privy to it.

If Jareth hadn't glitter-poofed back into my life, my fantasies wouldn't have changed, and I wouldn't have ordered the plain brown paper wrapped item that led to the goblin mayhem and misunderstandings, which led to the lingerie incident, followed by more goblin misunderstandings, leading to Halloween party chaos, and yet more goblin mayhem resulting in….

"Jareth…in my bed," she whispered, looking down at the wild strands of white-blonde hair that peeked above the top of her navy velvet doona.

His fault. Completely his fault. Absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, his fault.

And it all began two weeks before Halloween.

After her trip to the labyrinth, Sarah's closet, for some reason unbeknownst to her, became a favorite goblin playground. At first it was annoying (and more than a bit disturbing), but after she worked out that they could be bribed with candy and (oddly-enough) dog biscuits, Sarah decided that having goblins hanging around wasn't as bad as it might seem. If nothing else, her trip through the labyrinth had taught her not to take anything for granted. So, although she didn't understand why they had infested her life, she figured they must serve a purpose and thought it best to wait until that purpose was made clear. In many ways, they were kind of like pets – pets that she didn't have to take for walks or bathe, even though most of them really needed a good scrubbing much of the time.

When she went away to university she thought that her goblins – for that is how she came to think of them – would merely return to the Goblin Kingdom. Not only did they fail to return to the kingdom, they followed her to campus, taking up residence in her dorm room. Even more puzzling than that, her freshman roommate Carrie could not only see them, but she didn't mind them hanging around.

Carrie and Sarah become fast friends, bound by their shared belief that there was much more to the world than what the average person saw. Sarah suspected it was Carrie's belief that allowed her to see the goblins too. The fact that the first time the two of them returned to the room to find several goblins having a merry time bouncing on the beds and digging through their dresser drawers Carrie only laughed and scolded them, cemented the friendship. That night, over a bottle of wine and several bags of York peppermint patties, Sarah told Carrie the whole story of her time in the labyrinth, every little detail, even down to the criminal tightness of the glittery git's trousers.

And Carrie believed it all.

Although the goblins were a fixture in Sarah's life, she had not laid eyes (or anything else for that matter) on the Goblin King himself since she left the labyrinth. She hadn't, that is, until three days ago.

It had been a lazy Sunday afternoon and Sarah had been curled on a sofa at the campus coffee shop, her feet tucked up under her as she read 'The Great Gatsby' while waiting for Carrie. Sipping her pumpkin spice latte, Sarah thought she heard a familiar voice. Looking up, she nearly spit out the foamy mouthful of latte she had just taken – there at the order counter was the unmistakable figure of the Goblin King. Granted, he was dressed quite normally for Aboveground, in what appeared to be black wool trousers, a grey silk shirt and an absolutely stunning, full-length black cashmere coat. But normal clothes not withstanding, it was him. The Goblin King. In the flesh.

Damn. And what delicious flesh it was! – purred her libido, before her inner-self could wrestle it into submission and convict it of harboring treasonous thoughts about the glittery git who stole Toby.

Okay, so he didn't steal Toby. But he knew I didn't mean it and put me through 11 hours of hell anyway. The verdict of glittery git and feathered fat-head stands, she thought wryly.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice he had turned around until he walked past the sofa she was sitting on. He didn't say a word to her, merely glanced down at the book she was reading, raised a sardonic eyebrow at her and gave his characteristically mocking smirk as he swept from the coffee shop.

And that was the night that her dreams changed. Instead of nameless males in her fantasies, they now had feathery blonde hair and piercing mismatched eyes. She woke up panting and straining toward a set of lips that wasn't there. Needless to say, she was cranky the next morning.

The next day she saw him in the library, a fleeting figure in black denim moving silently through the stacks on the third floor as she was looking up books for her political science paper.

That night her dreams became more vivid. She could swear that they not only had sound and sight, but taste – like peaches.

What the hell else would a dream featuring him taste like, she grumbled inwardly at the thought.

Each day she saw him someplace new. Sitting in the back of her Intro to Psychology lecture theatre. And even walking outside the picture window in front of the stair climbers at the gym – while she was in the middle of her workout. That little encounter had nearly cost her a sprained ankle as she lost her concentration and fell off the machine.

Each encounter was fleeting and never a word was spoken between them. Yet every night, the dreams got stronger, brighter and more intense. And things just continued to get worse.

Wednesday, October 22nd - morning

I'm on the top of your list/ For the best french kiss/ I assist on your one last wish

And since I'm not the type/ To fall in love on sight/ I'm-a let you hold me tight/ For just one night

Since I write the rhymes/ To let the whole world sing/ It doesn't mean a thing/ When you call me the king…

With a frustrated snarl, Sarah launched herself from the bed, chocolate colored tresses fluffed around her face as she flung her body halfway across her room to slam the snooze button on the alarm clock. Relishing the satisfying crunch of her hand meeting the snooze button with far more force than was actually necessary. Sarah muttered darkly, tugging dolefully at her flannel pajama bottoms covered in an all-too-cheerful Tinkerbell print, before falling back onto the bed and once more pulling the covers back around her ears.

Not being a morning person, she was afraid of sleeping through her alarm and missing her classes, so, being resourceful, she decided to set her alarm to a hideously awful rap radio station that she hated and place her clock on the far side of the room. Her logic (such that it was, since the 'logic' itself was debatable) was that the horrible caterwauling would force her out of bed to walk over and turn the alarm off. In practice, there was little 'walking' involved, and more lurching accompanied by loud and somewhat abrupt abuse of the snooze button, abuse that was decidedly more violent than the situation required.

Stupid alarm clock. Always ruins the good dreams right before the best part, she grumbled, snuggling back into the disheveled covers with a frustrated sigh.

If she had been fully awake and someone had asked, she would have vehemently denied the fact that the dream had been good, since it was about him – the Goblin King. But, in her half-asleep state, she knew the truth of the matter. The dream had been…

freaking awesome, she thought, as she tried to recapture the ethereal essence of the dream once more.

Sarah had been agitated for days over this one particular dream. More than merely agitated, she was frustrated. Sexually frustrated. And while she didn't have any proof, she blamed Jareth, convinced that he was sending her the dreams to torture her.

And it is working, she moaned inwardly as she gave up on trying to recapture the sensuous dream.

Shutting her eyes, Sarah let her mind fill with the last tendrils of the luscious dream, her hands wandering over her body, sliding down over her flannel clad hips, just dipping below the waistband before…..

Yo, yo, yo, yo, baby-pop
Yeah, you come here, gimme a kiss
Better make it fast or else I'm gonna get pissed
Can't you hear the music's pumpin' hard like I wish you would?
Now push it…Push it good….

"Arrrghhh!" she growled, launching herself once more into the middle of the room as she slammed her hand down upon the alarm clock several times, knocking bracelets and a book from the scattered mess on top of her dresser. Throwing back her head, she stamped her bare feet against floor. Sarah glared at the ceiling (which if it had been alive, would now be dead thanks to the death glare she gave it) yelling, "Bloody, goblin perverts!"

"Had that dream again?" asked the ridiculously perky voice of her roommate Carrie, who was leaning against the bathroom door wrapped in a screaming purple robe and toweling her hair dry. Removing the towel from her head, Carrie used her fingers to fluff up the short red curls that sprang out willy-nilly in every direction, her crystal blue eyes watching Sarah continue to stamp her feet and curse at the ceiling.

"Judging from the torrent of what, by all accounts is a rather creative exhibition of foul language on your part – and I'd give you a 10 for creativity by the way – I'm taking your response to mean 'Yes, Carrie. I dreamt of the uber-sexy, God-I-Want-His-Bod Goblin King again and the alarm woke me up before he got his hands where I most want to feel them.'" Carrie chuckled, whisking past Sarah to dig through her closet.

With an audible snarl, Sarah flopped back onto her bed, tugging a hand through the tangled mess of hair as she flipped it out of her face. She was now sorry that she hadn't told Carrie she had seen Jareth on campus.

"Yes, you would be right. For the third night in a row. Same dream every time. The only thing than changes is how intense and real it all feels," grumbled Sarah, falling back onto the bed and pulling her pillow over her face as she screamed once more.

Turning to look at her roommate over her shoulder, Carrie just laughed, the sound ringing against the hideously ugly, yet functional (in an institutional sort of way) blue painted concrete walls of their shared room. Returning her attention to the closet, Carrie dug out a deep green sweater dress, black tights and her boots, throwing them into a pile on her bed as she shook her head at Sarah.

"There is nothing for it then, Sarah. You're just going to have to go to bed earlier and maybe you'll give your dream lover the chance to finish what he keeps starting. Otherwise, just take matters into your own hands and finish things off – when I'm not in the room of course. I love you like a sister, but honey…we ain't that close!" teased Carrie, as she got dressed.

Groaning, Sarah rolled from the bed, to throw a playful punch at Carrie as she headed toward the bathroom. Despite the teasing, some of what Carrie suggested made sense, although Sarah preferred to envisage various revenge ideas she could use on the feathered fat-head - retaliation methods that prominently featured a jar of hot pink hair dye, poodle-perm solution and a crimping iron.

As she tugged off her pajamas, Sarah called through the door, "I tried that, taking matters into my own hands that is. And it just doesn't do it…."

... not anymore, added her libido with a wistful sigh.

Poking her head around the bathroom door, Carrie waggled her eyebrows at Sarah as she ducked behind the brightly colored shower curtain, "Then I can only assume you aren't doing it right. Shall I bring you home a few instructional manuals from the library. I'm sure they have a moldy copy of 'The Joy of Sex' around there somewhere."

Carrie yelped and ducked behind the door as a soapy sponge sailed toward her head.

"Hey! Don't cop attitude with me! I'm only trying to help," she giggled, peering cautiously back into the bathroom. "Seriously though, if your own hands aren't doing the job, your only other choices are either help of the mechanical kind or finding yourself a live, warm body to snuggle up to. And since you continue to say that you have no interest in summoning up a certain Goblin King to take care of things, I guess that leaves you with the help of 'mechanical Marvin'."

Sarah poked her head around the shower curtain, her emerald eyes shining with laughter, "Mechanical Marvin? You didn't seriously give it a name did you?"

"Well, you can call yours whatever you want. Mine is lime green and reminds me of Marvin the Martian from Bugs Bunny," Carrie quipped, stopping to fluff up her curls and put on some lipstick. "Hell, call it Steve, Barry, Jerry or Jaret…."

Sarah, who had just turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and quickly flicked it against Carrie's bum, startling her friend who squealed. Carrie giggled, rubbing her now stinging rear.

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Sarah warned, her lips pursed in a stern frown, while her eyes still laughed. "To even say his name is to invite him, you know that, Carrie!"

Nodding, Carrie slipped a pair of large gold hoops into her ears and winked at Sarah in the mirror.

"Yes, I know. But would it be so bad to invite him if he could help you out with this little problem you've got going on?"

"End of discussion, Carrie! Go to class," muttered Sarah, wrapping her bathrobe securely around her body and pushing her way into the bedroom.

Carrie slung her bookbag over her shoulder and headed for the door, pausing before she left, her blue eyes washing over the pensive look on her best friend's face.

"Seriously, Sarah. I pulled up a website for you to look at. I've ordered from them before. They are discreet and cheap. Just what every single college girl needs. And might I suggest a 'Wiggling Wabbit' as a solid starter model – it will rock your world."

Blushing furiously, Sarah threw a shoe at the door, narrowly missing Carrie as she dodged out the door to head to her science class. With a sigh, Sarah settled into her desk chair, her hand playing absently with the mouse.

just a bit of idle curiosity. Nothing more. She told herself as she flicked through the website Carrie had left for her.

Nothing. Nothing. Tra-la-la…. Finished her libido with an inappropriate shimmy, accompanied by some rather suggestive hand gestures.

Flipping through the site, she paused, blushing furiously at one of the pictures. I don't even want to know what that is for, she giggled.

Sarah was still flipping through the website when she heard the closet door give a faint creek as a set of russet colored ears, tufted with red fluff, poked around the door, quickly followed by wide blue eyes set into a round wrinkled face.

"Hi, Patty. The candies are in the jar by my bed. Help yourself," Sarah said, smiling quietly at the timid little goblin who gave a little wave as she crept into the room.

Of all the goblins that had visited Sarah over the years, she had a soft spot for Patty, as did Carrie. For reasons they didn't know and Patty couldn't say, Patty was mute. She understood everything they said to her, but never spoke a word. She never made a sound, was respectful of Sarah's things and never made a mess. In short, she was the perfect goblin roommate.

They first met Patty in November of their freshman year of university. Carrie had bought Sarah a bag of her favorite peppermint patties to help with exam stress relief. Arriving back from class one night they found Sarah's bed covered in empty wrappers, and a little female goblin wearing a strange yellow tunic passed out in a chocolate coma on Sarah's pillow.

Since she couldn't tell them her name, they just started calling her Patty and the little goblin seemed happy with that. Carrie in particular had taken a shine to the little goblin, even going so far as to fashion dresses for Patty, having decided that she was sweet and needed looking after. Sarah on the other hand, wasn't sure if they were looking after Patty or if she was looking after Sarah – either way, Sarah was always glad when Patty was in residence.

A soft knock interrupted Sarah's web browsing and Patty's snack. Looking up, she saw Patty dive under the bed, before calling out, "Come in."

The door opened and two petite blonde freshmen entered, looking frightened and unsure of themselves, as they stood fidgeting in the doorway.

Oh frack, she muttered inwardly. It is the Stepford pledges again…Courtney and Brittany.

"Speak," Sarah barked at them, putting on a fierce face and scowling darkly.

"Yes, Pledge Mistress," they said in unison.

When Sarah started university, she planned to do only what was necessary, but Karen, aided and abetted by her father, had other ideas. Without her knowing about it, they had signed her up for sorority rush and guilted her into going through with it. The only reason she went was because Carrie was signed up as well, and the two of them planned to go along, make fun of the 'sorority susies' and generally mock the system. They laughed about going to all of the houses, meeting all of the puffed up princesses and trying to think of ridiculous things to say during all of the rush parties. Suffice it to say – the reality of the sorority rush experience was nothing like that portrayed in movies.

After attending the last rush party, both girls thought it was over. Sarah happily called Karen to tell her that she did not receive any bids from any of the sororities, hoping that the whole issue would die a quiet death.

It didn't.

At the last moment she got a bid from Alpha Chi Omega, one of the oldest sororities on campus. As it turned out, both Karen and Sarah's Aunt Francine were members, so she became a legacy member.

In the end, it was Carrie also getting a bid from Alpha Chi that made Sarah accept the offer. Having Carrie as her sorority sister made up for some of the oddities that came with sorority life – frat pranks, hazing rituals and secrecy over the silliest things – Honestly. Who cares what color candles we use during initiation? C

arrie and Sarah spent quite a bit of time laughing about the greek system, despite being heavily involved in it. In fact, they considered themselves to be the primary joke of the Alpha Chi house. Their house was known across the university as 'Barbie House', since 98% of the sisters were tall, thin blondes, with strings of pearls, fancy cars, perfect teeth and athlete boyfriends. Carrie and Sarah being the only non-blondes in the house made up what they called the 'hair-color minority party'. They only added to their 'weird' factor by having the highest GPAs in the house, refusing to date frat boys, driving beat up used cars and generally flaunting their distaste for current 'fashion'.

Despite everything, they managed to have fun with the Greek experience. That was, until their sisters had thrown them under the proverbial bus and voted them joint Pledge Mistresses, making them responsible for the 13 new pledges. Voting them as the Pledge Mistresses was really a sneaky, last-ditch attempt to force Sarah and Carrie into going to all of the parties, mixers and other social functions that they usually ditched the first opportunity they got. It was sneaky, underhanded and…

decidedly goblin-ish, Sarah thought.

The first blonde looked at Sarah, her pale eyes vapid and bland in the light spilling out from the hall. She tugged at the hem of her pledge t-shirt, a bright red shirt with "AXΩ" plastered on the front in an obnoxious screaming yellow fabric printed with bright green daisies. Given the concern with fashion amongst the new pledge class, Sarah and Carrie had taken great pleasure in creating the ugliest pledge t-shirts possible, knowing the hapless pledges would proudly wear them around campus. It was a deliciously cruel joke.

"Um, Sister Carrie said we were to come up here and remind you that it is your turn to supervise study hall in the library tonight," said Courtney.

Sarah sighed, a frown tugging at her lips. Actually, it was Carrie's turn, but she had scored a date with a senior from the computer science department, and Sarah wasn't about to let her friend skip a date to babysit the pledges. So, Sarah resigned herself to spending three hours in the library watching the pledges study; the only saving grace being the fact that the frat boys that normally flocked to the pledges like pixies to flowers would be at their own study tables and wouldn't be harassing either Sarah or her pledges. Sarah plastered her best cruel smirk on her face before replying.

"Fine, make sure the pledge class is assembled in the foyer at 6:30 sharp – everyone wearing their pledge shirts. Anyone late or not wearing their shirt will spend the morning after our Halloween party cleaning every bathroom in the house. Understood?"

In a building that housed over 60 girls, that meant roughly 20 private bathrooms and another 3 public bathrooms in the lower levels. The day after a house party was never the time to pull punishment detail, so Sarah knew the threat would be taken seriously.

"Yes, Pledge Mistress," they chorused, before leaving, looking for all the world like little Barbie-doll clones come to life.

Sorority Barbie lives, sighed Sarah, slamming her head down on her desk, then groaning in pain. "Owww!"

Your eyes can be so cruel….

Snapping her head up, Sarah looked around. What the hell? Seeing Patty sneaking out from under the bed, she motioned the little goblin over. She thought she heard laughter on the air.

"Did you hear that Patty?" Sarah asked, feeling her heart thundering in her chest.

Patty shook her head and shrugged.

Great. Just great, she thought. Like it wasn't bad enough that you started seeing the Goblin King everywhere, now you are hearing him too! Sniped her inner-self. You need a man…or Goblin King…bad!

Author's Note: The first song in this chapter is: "Melt In Your Mouth" by Candyman. The second song is "Push It" by Salt'N'Pepa.

Also, before any sorority gals get their panties in a bunch over the sorority bits in this story, let me point out that I am an Alpha Chi girl (yup… I was the token geek and redhead in a house full of Barbie clones), so I am only describing my own experience. No offense is meant. I just view the whole Greek system with a rather large sense of humor. :)