(A/N) To whom it may concern; Kerridwyn's brain is temporarily out of order, and has in fact been hijacked by a contingent of plot-bunnies. So, rather than logically updating one of her existing stories, she has uploaded something-gasp-new!

DISCLAIMER: Once upon a time there was a small girl who thought she owned the Henson characters, Labyrinth and all related icons…then the IRS came and took the small girl and shipped her off to a small prison on the far side of Antarctica. I am not that little girl.

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Once upon a time…that's always how these things start isn't it? And it's the proper place for them to start; you know from the instant you here those three simple words-once upon a time-that you're about to be transported to a time and place different from your own. You know you're about to be taken someplace else.

So…

Once upon a time…

There was a young girl named Sarah Williams. She attended her local high school where she neither excelled nor failed dismally, she caused an average amount of mischief, and kept her room neither incredibly neat nor incredibly dirty. She lived with her Family in the same house she'd grown up in. Her room had been pained a lovely shade of pine green and the walls were plastered with the works of Brown, Galbreath and Froud and she took a deep satisfaction in that the window nearest the tree outside was securely locked at all times.

She had discovered over the years, that the argument of Nature verses Nurture very much applied to her younger brother Toby. His natural attitude was quite simply, that he wanted what he wanted and by god he wanted it now! That was his Nature. He was raised by a doting father and over protective mother who could deny him nothing; that was his Nurture. Combine that with angelic blond curls, blue eyes and a pout that even Sarah secretly envied and he was a force to be reckoned with. If at times she darted between despising him and hovering protectively no one seemed to notice.

In fact, Sarah did her best to be entirely unnoticed whenever possible. Despite her love of literature and plays she abhorred being at the center of attention and sufficed to stay in the background.

She was often thought of as shy by her family and close friends-sometimes as cold by those who didn't know her better-but she had a glow of insight that clung to her like a fine dusting of ash and aged her beyond her years.

Sarah often saw things that most people overlooked, and she knew things that most didn't-or didn't care to. She knew who it was that stole the missing socks from the dryer and who it was that moved your keys when your back was turned. She knew why the milk spoiled a week before it should have and what it was that cats stared at when they seemed to be looking at nothing. There were precious few people who knew what she knew and they weren't likely to share the secret with anyone.

And so, in the background, she grew from fifteen to sixteen, sixteen to seventeen, to eighteen and nineteen. Her baby fat had redistributed itself in very attractive ways and, though the freckles stubbornly refused to fade, her skin had turned clear as milk and Karen often lamented-loudly, to anyone who would listen-about her stepdaughter's single status.

"I just don't understand it, sweetheart, you're so pretty, you could have anyone you wanted. You should be beating them off with a stick."

Whenever the conversation took this particular turn, Sarah would give the same shrug and sigh combination and steer it politely but firmly towards other things. She liked her status.

It was true, the boys at school took little notice of her, or if they did it was to keep as far away as possible, but Sarah had no intention of explaining to her that this was likely because a Certain Goblin King had threatened to have them drawn and quartered and roast their testicles with gravy if they so much as looked at her the wrong way.

Sarah barely surpressed an inappropriate giggle as she tried to picture Karen's face moments after such a revelation.

"Sarah-? Are you listening to me?" A little shiver made its way down her spine; no matter how many years passed, she knew she'd never get used to the way he said her name-or the reaction it caused. "You've not heard a single word I've said have you."

She turned and studied the reason for nearly everything that happened in her life for the past four years; Jareth, the Goblin King. He looked almost exactly as he had when he'd first came into her life, the same heeled boots, same gloves, same tousled hair, and the same fierce, wild features to sharp for any mortal face.

At that moment he was sprawled across her bed, she'd left her laptop there as well and a game of Tetris still played out on the screen unaware of it's impending doom. He prodded the keyboard experimentally, scowling when the words 'GAME OVER' flashed across the view in bold block letters.

"Are you quite certain this contraption is functional?"

She sighed.

This was, to put it bluntly, just not fair.

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(A/N) I've absolutely no idea where this is going…or where it came from for that matter. In fact, it seems to have jumped out from behind my couch and attached itself to my brain whist I was otherwise occupied…oh well. :