Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or its inhabitants and if I did I probably wouldn't share...

First fanfiction - please enjoy

Thanks to my awesome beta nothingnothingtralala - new and improved!

The thing about winning, thought Sarah Williams, was that once you got started it was surprisingly hard to stop.

After beating the Goblin King, Sarah had found that most things in life tended to go her way.

At fifteen, she had won a short story competition.

At sixteen, she had won a scholarship.

At seventeen, she had won a young writers' award.

At eighteen, she had won a car.

At nineteen, she had won a luxury cruise.

At twenty, she had won a small fortune in the sweep stakes.

Now, on her twenty-first birthday, she pulled into the driveway of her family home and was afraid to leave her car.

Irene had invited her for a special birthday dinner, but she knew what awaited her inside. Competitions, scratchies, lottery tickets; her father would have stock piled them by now. He called her his 'lucky child' and enjoyed testing her ability as often as possible.

She ran her hands over her car steering wheel cover and sighed. Luck wasn't infinite, that was something she was sure of, and sooner or later her luck was going to run out.

It didn't really matter to her; winning wasn't everything. Her first big win had ended in the return of her baby brother, something she had definitely wanted, but since saying farewell to the Labyrinth her life had been without magic. It had been completely normal in every way: average, mundane, boring. She knew the winning wasn't exactly 'normal,' but she would have given it up in an instant to see Hoggle appear in her mirror when she called for him.

Magic had completely left Sarah Williams' life and been replaced by an unrepentantly lucky streak. She hadn't wanted luck; she hadn't wished for it; she was very careful to never EVER wish for anything.

She was sure that when the luck finally died out her father would be crushed. He had come to rely on her luck over the past few years and constantly bragged about Sarah's special 'talent'. She feared the day she would disappoint her father; her luck had become a burden.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath, there was no delaying the inevitable. Sarah reached for her car door just as a dark blue Mercedes pulled up the drive and parked in the space next to her. Her heart sank at the sight of polished paintwork and tinted windows.

Please tell me he hasn't, please tell me this isn't what I think it is.

To her relief, a middle aged man in a well-cut suit exited the driver's side of the car, a stranger. It wasn't her father's car, he hadn't bought anything new. Of course he hadn't, she was being paranoid, those days were over. The only remnants of that period were the competitions she let him stockpile, harmless really. Everything was going to be okay. After all, it was her birthday, wasn't it? What had she been expecting?

Chuckling to herself, she returned her stilled hand to its original task and opened the car door, slipping carefully from her seat, mindful of the other vehicle. Her reasonably new car now appeared shrunken and lacklustre compared to the beautiful machine beside it; she was reminded that she hadn't washed it for some time, contrary to this newly polished monster.

The man in the suit who stood nearby considered her for a moment, and then opened the passenger side door and stepped back. An overweight man dressed in black pulled himself from the front seat and looked up at Sarah's childhood home with an unreadable expression. She paused and glanced at the two men from under her lashes as she slowly slipped her keys into her bag. The driver was lean and sinewy, with a bad fake tan and a slowly receding hairline. His suit was neat and tidy, but crinkled at the back as if he has been sitting in the car seat for a long period of time. His face was completely forgettable, and Sarah was sure that had she had met him yesterday she would have forgotten him already. Perhaps she already had.

The second man was overweight, but not to the point of being obese. He had a shock of black hair gelled and brushed back in a business-like manner, and a wide smile plastered across his face. Like his suit the smile was tight, as if fixed in place forcibly against his will. In his stumpy little hands he held a well-worn note pad, Sarah wondered if he was a colleague of her father's.

Despite her attempt at subtlety, Sarah realised she was now openly staring at the two men and looked away, feeling embarrassed as she settled her bag over her shoulder. One of the two men cleared his throat and, instinctively, her eyes met his. The squat overweight man with the fake smile forced his grin wider as he assessed her.

"Sarah Williams," he said. It was not a question.

She was quite sure she had never met him before.

"Yes," she answered after an awkward pause. "Are you colleagues of my father?"

"You have his look about you. I recognised you straight away," grinned the fat man. She did not miss the fact that he had evaded her question. "He talks about you a lot you know, 'Lucky Sarah' he calls you."

Sarah shrugged noncommittally with an equally fake smile slipping into place. Not so lucky as to have avoided this conversation, apparently.

"Are you meeting with my father?" she asked.

The fat man's little fingers stroked the notebook in his hands possessively.

"Yes, on a matter of… business," he agreed.

Sarah felt her mouth twitch at his reply, her father rarely met anyone for anything else.

"I'll take you up to the house then," she offered.

She often wondered if that was the difference between being a child and being an adult: having to be polite to people you didn't like. She didn't like this man much, there was something about the way he looked her over, as if he had already drawn his assumptions and she must simply yield to them. She regretted not getting out of the car immediately to enter the house; she could have avoided this awkward false courtesy.

The fat man's piggy little eyes observed her but he gave no reply, if he had not been looking at her Sarah would have wondered if he had heard her at all. His attention kept wandering down the driveway to the roadside, as if he were expecting something or someone from that direction. Eventually Sarah simply gave up and started towards the house, assuming they would follow if that was their intention.

It was the best sort of day by her standards, sunny: but not to the point of being hot, a refreshing, gentle breeze ruffling her knee-length sundress. She brushed her long dark tresses back over her shoulders as she stared up at her childhood home.

The late Victorian house had always struck her as something out of a novel, its whitewashed walls and large windows welcoming and homely, and a wave of nostalgia washed over her for days long past. She had moved out of home and into a college dorm to keep her from having to commute each day, but she missed the familiarity of her first home and the sprawling park where she had played as a child. The memories were so dear to her that she often wondered if that time would ever fade from her mind.

As she moved up the rock-strewn pathway towards the inviting front door, she could hear the crunch of gravel behind her, indicating she was indeed being followed. Pity really, she thought. She did her best to ignore the men, resisting the urge to glance back over her shoulder, and when she finally reached the porch, hit the doorbell button with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Irene Williams opened the door and beamed down at Sarah.

"Oh honey, I've really cooked up a storm for you today," she smiled.

Sarah felt relief wash over her. There was no complexity or hidden message in her stepmothers face, just joy at her arrival, joy she suddenly found herself sharing with the woman, as if it were infectious. She and Irene had found common ground long ago and become good friends. Perhaps it would always be hard for Sarah to think of her as a mother, she was still in contact with her birth mother after all, but she loved Irene and she was family. Right now, especially, she was a very welcome sight.

Sarah saw Irene's smile slip slightly as she caught sight of the two men behind her.

"Who..?" she asked tentatively, raising a brow at Sarah.

"I'm… a business partner of your husband's," the fat man interrupted, before Irene could finish, stopping closely behind Sarah. "I'm here on urgent business." Sarah had the impression he said the word 'business' in a very ironic fashion.

Irene's smile did not return.

"Robert!" she yelled over her shoulder. It seemed she was using her body to block the doorway and Sarah longed to be on the other side of the barrier. Everyone stood in place, waiting for Robert Williams to come and disarm the situation, as only he could.

"Sarah!" gasped a voice.

Spinning, Sarah was almost knocked off her feet as her younger brother collided with her at full speed, his backpack slipping from his shoulders in his enthusiasm.

As she turned towards Toby, she thought she saw an odd look flicker in the eyes of the fat man over her brother's shoulder.

It caused the smile she gave her sibling to be more forced than genuine, but he hardly seemed to notice. "Careful Toby, you're getting big now, you'll knock me over one of these days!" She chuckled at him, ruffling his hair. His face shone as he looked up at his big sister, and he gave her a gap toothed smile.

"Look! I lost another one!" he cried excitedly, pulling Sarah's hand. He poked his tongue into the hole between two of his teeth experimentally, showing off the loss of another baby tooth.

"Did you put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy?" she asked, admiring his latest loss.

Pouting, Toby stopped pulling her hand and stamped his foot sulkily.

"No way, I'm not gonna get bit by some fairy," he complained, and Sarah laughed as she leaned down to give him a hug. She hadn't told him a Labyrinth tale for quite some time, but he remembered them well.

"Toby Williams," called the fat man behind Toby, interrupting them. Toby turned to look at the two men he hadn't noticed up until that point.

"Who are you, mister?" he asked.

The man in the suit smiled. "I thought you might be getting home from school around this time."

Toby cocked his head as he regarded the man.

"Hey, look at this!" he crowed suddenly, throwing a huge grin in their direction. "See, I loss free of 'em now," he tried to say without parting his teeth to remove the display.

"Very impressive," agreed the man. There was an odd look on his face that Sarah didn't like. She was about to pull her brother closer when she heard a commotion by the door. Robert Williams stood in the entry way looking nervous.

"Come inside, Toby," he called from beyond the fly screen. Sarah felt an odd shiver run up her spine. Something wasn't right about his voice, it wasn't a request, more like a plea.

"No; I don't think that will be necessary," smiled the fat man.

Suddenly, the hand of his driver had latched onto Toby and half dragged him over to the far side of the porch. Toby's look of delight became curiosity as he regarded the new man uneasily, but without fear.

He's so innocent.

Sarah's face was one of horror. "What are you doing?" she yelled; stepping towards the man who was holding her brother, a frown darkening her brow. It was wrong, he was wrong. She didn't like these men and she especially didn't like them touching her brother. She didn't care if they were colleagues of her father, the Goblin King or the Pope himself, it just wasn't right. The porch suddenly seemed too long, like a league stood between her and her younger sibling.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, miss," hissed the driver, as he flicked out a switchblade and held it up to Toby's cheek.

Sarah froze.

A voice was screaming in her head to get her brother away from these men, but her eyes wouldn't leave the blade in his hands. What the hell was going on here?

"Carl call him off, what are you doing? It doesn't need to come to this!" yelled Robert from the doorway. "I can get you your money."

Sarah's eyes snapped up to her father. She suddenly had the distinct feeling he was using the flyscreen door as a shield between himself and these men.

"What have you done?" she whispered. Behind her father, Sarah heard Irene's confused voice.

"What's going on, Robert?" she asked. Reaching out towards the door handle for the flimsy screen, her eyes caught sight of the blade held against her son's face and she paled.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a shaky voice. "Don't hurt my son, he's just a little boy, please... please let him go." Her husband pushed her back roughly away from the door and she struggled against him trying to reach for the handle. "Toby come here!" she screamed hysterically, trying to push an arm out past Robert, reaching for Toby.

Her husband planted his hands on either side of Irene's shoulders as he pushed her back away from the door.

"Don't worry, they won't hurt him, everything is fine now. Sarah is here, she can get the money and everything will be fine."

"Mum?" called Toby, not understanding what was going on. He wasn't the only one.

"It's alright baby, just stay still!" shrilled Irene as she wrestled against Robert's hands. Her sobs continued to rise in volume as she fought to no avail.

Sarah watched the scene, dumbstruck. She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. She took a deep breath and let it go as she stared uncomprehendingly at her father's face.

"What have you done?" she croaked again, and watched as a guilty shadow slid across her father's features.

Carl cleared his throat loudly, his fingers still caressing the notebook in his hands.

"Your father owes me a lot of money," he explained lazily. "He borrowed a rather vast sum from me, and lost it, now I want it back." He flapped the book in his hand as if it contained all the answers. Maybe it did.

"Sarah, honey, everything is going to be okay, you're my lucky child after all. I made a mistake, I shouldn't have used that money, but luckily we just need to win it back, you can do that, can't you, Sarah?" his eyes shone with a devastatingly hopeful light, which chilled Sarah to the core. "We just need to use that luck of yours," he mumbled, his eyes darting from his son to the fat man with the book. "I know we can do it, you'll to help me out, won't you? There's no need for all this fuss over such a trifle"

Suddenly, all the pieces began to fit together and reveal a horrible truth. All of the times Irene had mentioned her father out late or coming home with unexplained money, items which had gone missing around the house. She should have known the pattern, she and Irene had seen it before after all. It had been years since they'd last pushed him to attend a gamblers anonymous meeting, years since he'd railed at Sarah about the good luck which seemed to be restricted to her alone. They'd thought that letting him stockpile scratchies for her home visits was harmless, better he have some outlet than none at all, surely? Perhaps that had been a mistake; perhaps it was all a mistake. Sarah's continued good luck had weakened him; her very existence enabled his gambling addiction. She wondered if it was possible that the very power he loved her for had corrupted him and brought these events about.

Carl snorted behind her. "You'll excuse me if I don't place as much faith in your daughter's magic powers as you do Robert," he sniffed.

It's not magic powers… Sarah thought frantically.

"You see, I'm happy to wait a little longer for the money," the man looked down his nose at Sarah, "however you plan to get it, but I'll be taking something as collateral." He shot a look in Toby's direction.

Irene, who had sunk to the floor sobbing, now let out a scream; and she threw herself at her husband. "Don't let him take my son, don't let him take Toby, Robert." She clawed at him desperately, shrieking and gnashing her teeth like a wild woman. "Don't touch him; you can't have him, give him back, GIVE HIM BACK!"

Sarah felt numb. Irene's screams sank into her skull as she watched her father battle with her in the doorway. At one point the screen door swung out in a wide arc and was wrenched closed again as her father grabbed at it and slammed it on her stepmother's outflung arm. How could this be happening? Wasn't this supposed to be a birthday dinner? Maybe she would have had to scratch a few silly scratchies for the meal, but that wasn't a big deal, not really.

This couldn't really be happening.

"No Carl, don't take my son," Robert yelled as he grabbed his wife around the waist and wrestled her to the ground. Irene cried hysterically as she held her bleeding arm. "Take something else…" he begged.

"You don't have anything else I want Robert," he smiled coldly. "In fact, you don't have anything else, period."

On the ground Irene pulled at her husband's leg. "Don't let them take him," she rasped. "Take the car, take the house."

Carl's crocodile smile gaped. Through her fog Sarah saw it clearly: Carl's hungry look as his eyes flickered to Toby. He knew what he wanted and he would take it. This wasn't like being wished away to a goblin kingdom, this was real life and it was infinitely more terrifying than anything Sarah had faced in the Labyrinth. There was a cold purpose here, this was his endgame, and he had his eyes on the prize.

"The car and the house already belong to me, Ms Williams," he told her. "The only thing of value you have to offer is this pretty little boy, and I can get a very nice price for him. Certain people like these kinds of things"

Sarah looked at each of them.

Her brother struggled against the driver's hands with a confused frown on his face, his eyes on his mother.

Irene shook hysterically, clutching at her husband's trouser cuff as blood ran freely down her arm.

Her father breathed deeply, his skin grey as he muttered to himself, his eyes darting between Sarah and Carl.

Carl just stood there with his fingers laced over the notebook in his hands, his smile wider than his face.

"Stop," Sarah croaked.

Both Carl and the driver glanced up at her; Carl's insipid smile did not slip.

"Take my car… or something... there must be something else."

Carl evaluated her disdainfully as if she were little more than a smudge on his shoe. He somehow managed to look down on her despite being shorter in size.

"Sarah," he smiled. "I don't think you understand just how much money we're talking about here."

"Yes, I mean no, I don't... but I can win it back for you," she told him weakly, hoping it was true. It was the first time she had ever offered to use her 'power', the first time she had ever even openly admitted to its existence out loud.

Carl laughed openly in her face.

"I don't believe in fairy tales you silly little girl."

Sarah took a deep breath and met his eyes seriously. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "And it's not a fairy tale. I can do it; I can get your money back and I can make you more."

Carl cocked his head to one side. He ran a lumpy hand over his face and assessed her carefully from head to foot, his lazy gaze making her stomach turn.

"You're not a little girl, are you?"' he said. Greedy hands patted his notebook as his eyes switched between her and her brother. His shrewd glance became somewhat disappointed as he turned from Toby, seeming to consider her offer.

"What makes you so sure you can get me my money?" he asked.

She sighed. "Because I was given Certain Powers," she told him. They were The Right Words, she knew somehow. As if a light had been switched on in her head she knew it was the truth, finally obtained after all this time.

Carl smiled his Cheshire cat smile and laughed. "Bruno, let go of the boy," he called. "We'll take the girl instead."