I'm not sure why I decided to write this. I hadn't seen this movie in years, then my best friend became obsessed with it, and dragged me back into it, and then she made me read a fic. I rewatched the move for the first time in years and just...felt so unfulfilled with the ending they gave to Sarah and Jareth. So, I decided to write my own ending, even if this kind of fic has been done a million times. I hope it turns out well, though most of this is just what I came up with as I went along. Also, sorry if this is really rambling. I wrote it at 1:30 last night, so I was kind of out of it. Also, I accidentally slipped into 1st person a couple times. I think I fixed all of that, but if you see any, could you tell me in the reviews? Please and thank you!

It was the owl's fault, of course. The owl that had given her away. That had let her parents on to her secret.

Let them know that something had changed.

It started with the owl at her window, and she supposed it was kind of poetic that that's how the next bit started, a cheap plush owl she'd bought on a whim at a convenience store hung in her window. But she knew it was more than that. Of course she knew.

Because then came the drawings. Endless drawings of owls. Different locations, different sizes, different positions and angles and styles, but always the same owl.

It was him, and she just wanted to do him justice.

Of course.

Her father and stepmother took notice, though. It wasn't that hard. She'd given away Lancelot, so they were paying attention. She'd gone and thrown away half of her childhood toys, then, only keeping a few and giving many to Toby.

When she started fixating on owls, they knew something was wrong.

Which was how she wound up in a therapist's office. Strike that, another therapist's office. The fourth one, in fact. She found almost no difference between them. None were so flamboyant or unique as the King. It was as if she were desensitized to normality after the Labyrinth. After Jareth.

Mostly, she noticed the offices anymore. Each of them was different, she'd give them that. And she definitely liked this one the least. Everything was just slightly off. The chair was just slightly too awkwardly shaped to be comfortable. The temperature was just slightly too cold for her liking. Despite the clouds blanketing the sky that day, the light coming in through the wall of windows was just slightly too bright, keeping her in a partial squint at all times.

She simply focused on the table, where more than a few of her drawings were spread out. The therapist - Mr. Davies, she reminded herself - was going on about something. About dreams. He asked her to explain her dream.

She closed her eyes for a moment, deciding not to bother with explaining to him that it wasn't a dream. The reason she was in his office was because everyone thought it was a dream, though only she knew the truth. It would be the very epitome of a futile effort.

So she explained it. Told him about her wish and the Goblin King, about Hoggle and Didymus and Ludo and all of it. She left out a bit of the King's description, preferring not to go down the road of psychoanalyzing him as her ideal sexual partner again. It'd been bad enough the first time. And the second.

But eventually, she got the message. It started to sink in. It took a while. Oh, did it take a while. It took a year of anger and depression, losing her only friends, shouting matches with her father and stepmother over everything and anything.

But get the message, she did. It was a dream, all of it. She'd made it all up. Hoggle, Didymus, Ludo.

Jareth.

So it had been five years since the dream, and she had moved on quite well. She still thought back on it at times, and still had quite the affinity for owls, still found her hand absentmindedly doodling them at times, but for the most part, she was a normal twenty-year-old, attending university with a small group of friends, a potential boyfriend on the horizon. The whole shebang.

But of course, the Labyrinth had to show up again. Of course.

This time, she knew it was a dream. Jareth was abundantly clear about that.

It was in the remains of the Escher Room, but it looked much worse for wear. As if it had been left in rubble and ruins since she was last there, and the elements had taken over. Vines were beginning to intrude in the space, reaching towards the center where she stood. The light had an ambience to it, and a slight fogginess to it, obscuring anything outside the ring she was centered within.

And then a figure appeared. A tall, thin figure whom she recognized so well.

"Hello again, Sarah," Jareth said with the smallest of smiles.

She wanted to speak. Wanted to say something, do something, walk forward and touch him at the very least.

Instead, she froze. Every muscle in her body clenched. She stopped breathing, eyes locked on his angular features. His lips were quirked to the side in a smirk and she wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or slap the look right off his face.

"It seems I've rendered you speechless," he chucked, taking two more steps towards her. He moved slowly, with the measured control and grace he'd possessed the last time she'd seen him.

"This is a dream," Sarah finally said, voice weaker than she'd liked.

"You dream of me?" Jareth asked, sounding almost...pleased.

She shook her head, though. "No, never. Not since I saved Toby. I've wanted to, but…"

"Then what makes you think this is a dream?" he inquired. The smirk was gone, but a single eyebrow had risen a fraction.

"Because this can't be real."

"I'm curious as to why you think the two to be mutually exclusive." He quirked the eyebrow up fully now.

"Dreams are just our mind's ways of passing the time while we sleep," she insisted. "There's nothing real about them."

"Dreams draw from reality," he replied. "Why couldn't they shape it, too?"

She almost laughed. "Because that's not how things work."

"And you're so certain about how 'things work,' are you?" He let out a laugh. "Maybe that's how 'things work' in the world of mortals, but you have run the Labyrinth, beaten it even. You are not of the mortal world any longer, Sarah."

Her brow furrowed. "What are you saying? I belong to the...the Underground?"

He chuckled at that, though it sounded slightly more troubled than before. "That's not what I'm saying at all. But you don't belong to the Aboveground either. The best way to describe it is that you are stuck in transition. But beating the Labyrinth, you removed yourself from the mortal world, at which point, you were to stay in the Underground, with me. That is the way it has worked since the beginning of time."

"I was supposed to be your sex bunny?" she exclaimed, eyes widening.

Jareth stared for a moment, eyes just as wide, before doubling over with laughter. "Heavens, no. I mean, that could have been part of it. But no. You were to be made into royalty. The heir to the throne, in fact. That's how the Kings of the Goblins have always been chosen.

"You beat the Labyrinth?" she asked, incredulous.

"Indeed, I did," he nodded. "But it was much easier at the time. Each Goblin King changes it, makes it their own, with the aim of making it more difficult."

"But why? Why make the Labyrinth so difficult? You don't really seem to care for the Goblins, so why take so much time and care in the selection process for the new leader?"

"Because once the new heir is found, it's only a matter of time before the sitting Goblin King is murdered," he said mournfully. "We are granted eternal life, immunity from age and sickness, though we can still be struck down by injury. The heir is selected, and then the Goblin King is murdered, usually by the heir. They...aren't granted eternal life. It's quite the enticement."

"But, I wouldn't…"

"Oh, it's not always the heirs. Sometimes it's the goblins themselves, deciding that the sitting king is too cruel, or they make pacts and agreements with the heir."

A realization struck her. "But you…"

"...killed the king before me? Yes, I did." He nodded, meeting her gaze head on. He didn't flinch away. It seemed extremely important to him that she know what he'd done, though he didn't seem particularly ashamed. "Tell me, how old do I look to you?"

"I don't know, thirty?" Where was he going with this?

"The Goblin Kings stop aging the moment they are crowned," he explained. "You guessed pretty well, just so you know. I was twenty-seven at the time. I was fifteen when I was named heir. I waited twelve years, living here without friend or enemy to keep me occupied, only the Goblins to taunt me until I...lashed out." Her eyes were slowly widening and her mouth fell open as he continued. "I'm not ashamed of what I did. It's the way of things here."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to understand what happened when you refused to stay," he replied, voice harder than before. "Look around you, Sarah, and tell me what's wrong here."

She did as he said, eyes drinking in every detail. "It's crumbling, aging."

"It's not just these ruins," he nodded. "All of the Underground is shattering, because you aren't here to prevent it."

"H-How am I supposed to prevent it?"

"That is the role of the Heir," he intoned. "The Heir may not have immortal life, but the Heir has other powers and responsibilities. As soon as you entered the Goblin City, you'd beaten the Labyrinth, and certain power passed to you, the power of pure creation, the power that has led and guided the Underground since it's conception. It was your job to protect that power, literally with your life, and to keep the Underground from falling into ruin. It's another reason why the Heir always kills the king, actually. The Heir must take power before their death, or the light dies with them, and the Underground, or so the legend says. The King carries it within him until a new Heir is found. You, Sarah, were supposed to remain as Heir and protect the Underground. As you can see, you've done a piss poor job of it so far."

"How was I supposed to know?" she demanded. "You never said!"

"I said enough," he waved me off. "You made your decision."

"So I'll unmake it!" she exclaim. "I'm here now, why can't I start fixing things?"

"But you aren't here," he reminded her. "This is a dream. It's also a reality, yes, but still, undoubtedly, a dream."

"What do you mean, 'a reality?'"

"Do you remember when I mentioned the transitionary period?" Sarah nodded. "That is caused by the power. If you had remained as Heir, you would have magic as strong as my own, possibly stronger." She gave him a curious look. "You're a woman. Closer to nature, and the magic of the realm. Well, that magic is still within you, though you never made the full transition. It manifests in dreams. Dreams of the present, and the future. On a rare occasion, it can even make dreams real. That'd be something, wouldn't it?" He laughed.

"So take me back to the Labyrinth!" she insisted.

He immediately sobered. "It's not that simple. You rejected the Labyrinth, rejected the Underground. I'm not sure it's even possible for you to set foot here again, even if we could get you in. I can't just magic you in like last time."

"There has to be a way!" she insisted. Her beloved Labyrinth was crumbling around her! Every moment she spent there made her want to weep even more. What had she done? The Labyrinth had long defined her, and she'd destroyed it.

"There may be one, but I'm sure you'll hate it," he informed her, shifting awkwardly and not meeting her gaze.

"Spit it out, Jareth."

"Well…" He shifted once more. "Most such laws and precepts are excepted in the cases of the King...and his concubine."