Fifteen-year-old Toby Williams sighed as he turned the corner toward his house. He really did not want to go home. He had gotten two terrible grades on his report card, a huge bruise on his arm and a note from his teacher to his parent's telling them about the fight he had gotten into at school today. To say that he didn't want to face his parents was the understatement of the year.

What made it worse, was that today was his birthday. He had turned fifteen today, without a 'Happy Birthday' from his parents, or anyone else for that matter. He douobted they even remembered.

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, remembering his sister Sarah, the only one who would be able to help him at a time like this. She was always the most perfect sister. Running his hand through his hair reminded him of her, because she had always told him to keep his hair blonde, never to dye it black like the boys at his school had started doing in the seventh grade.

When he had asked why, she had muttered something about goblins and blonde kings, and walked off in a daze like she was often prone to do.

Sarah was the best sister anyone could ask for, despite the dazes, and the obsession with fairytales. In fact, it was because of those things that Toby loved his big sister so much. When Toby was growing up, those things set her apart from the other girls her age. She was never mean and snappy like the other girls, or overly concerned about boys, or makeup, or whether or not her hair looked perfect.

She had always been content to stay at home with Toby, to have a mock swordfight with him, or to read to him one of the many stories she had written since Toby was a baby.

She hadn't gone to college right after graduating because of Toby. She had waited until she turned twenty-two: until he was seven years old, and until she could pay at least half of the tuition herself. She had told Toby that she wasn't going to accept any more favors from Mom and Dad than neccesary.

Neither Toby nor Sarah had a good relationship with their parents. Toby's dad was much too involved with work and his wife to pay much attention to Toby or Sarah after Toby began to grow older. Irene, Toby's mother and Sarah's step-mother was cold and strict with her son and stepdaughter. She was too concerned with entertaining friends and holding parties to be worried about 'babying' her kids as she called it.

Toby shook his head bitterly. As if tucking your seven-year-old son in at night, or hugging your daughter on graduation day was babying.

So Sarah and he had become their own family. Even after she left for college, she came back twice a month, to take Toby out somewhere, so he could get away from the cold atmosphere that was his house. As a result, Toby grew up much like Sarah: loving fantasy, acting, writing, music...anything that he could escape to.

Sarah deeply encouraged his interests. She loved the fact that her baby brother was so much like her.

Toby smiled at the thought of Sarah being so happy. That smile faded, however, as his house came into view. Trudging up the sidewalk, and then the stairs, he thought to himself sarcastically: "Sarah, those of us about to die, salute you."

He opened the door to be greeted by Sarah's dog, Merlin. Sarah had gotten the dog as a puppy when Toby was only a year old, and the dog had grew along with him. She had left him with Toby when she left for college. The dog was old now, and Toby was dreading the day that he would die, which both of them seemed to know would come soon.

Toby walked into the kitchen, Merlin following him. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Mountain Dew popping the cap and racing upstairs quickly before his mom could find him with soda. She had banned him from soft drinks, saying they were bad for you. Yet she still drank them herself, which confused Toby to no end.

Flopping down on the bed that used to be Sarah's, and pulling the old Lancelot bear that Sarah had given him as a baby close to him, Toby grabbed the phone that his parent's had put in his room a few months ago from his bedside table and listened to the answering machine as Merlin snuggled up beside him.

After skipping through a few messages from work for his father, and 'accidentally' deleting a messages from a friend for his mother, he got to the message he had been waiting for.

He listened to the sounds of New York City for a moment before closing his eyes and listening deeply to Sarah's voice.

"Hey, Toby-baby! Happy birthday to the sweetest little brother in the world. How are you doing? I hope you're okay, and the monsters aren't bugging you too much."

Toby smiled. 'The monsters' was code that Sarah had made up for their parents. If they were being specific, 'The Wraith' was their mother, and 'The Ghoul' was their father. He listened harder to distinguish Sarah's voice from the honking horns and other sounds in the background.

"Listen, I know I said that I was gonna drive home this weekend, but I can't. My professor scheduled extra rehearsals all weekend, and if I miss them, the understudy gets my part. I really really really wish I could be there. Can you hang on for one more weekend, sweetie? I promise I'll be home soon, and we can still have a perfect day together for your birthday, even if it is a week late.. We can go to that restaraunt you like, or maybe go to the park or something?

....Look, Toby, I know you're mad at me, but I tried my best to get out of it. Please don't give me the silent treatment, and please, please don't do anything stupid.

Well...call me back okay? Love you, baby. Bye."

Toby hit the delete button on the machine hard. For a moment he comtemplated throwing the machine across the room, but then thought better of it.

He was just about to open the window and run down to the park when a knock came on his door.

"Toby?" His dad said, his voice muffled.

Toby sighed, and then answered: "Yeah?"

His dad sounded relieved that he had gotten an answer as he said, "Your mom and I are going out. Your mom needs you to stay here and wait for one of her friends to drop by. There's a package on the table that you need to give to the woman. Is that alright with you, son?"

Toby didn't say anything, and his dad's footstep's retreated down the hall.

"You really cared if it was alright with me, didn't you?" Toby hissed.

Livid, Toby grabbed a book and threw it at the door, imagining he was throwing it straight at his dad's head.

"Why this weekend, Sarah? Why now?" he thought as angry tears began to rise in his eyes. He blinked them back quickly. He was strong. He wasn't going to cry.

He punched the bed hard as the tears fell, unbidden, to the blanket.

"I hate this place." He muttered with a vengeance.

"I wish someone cared about me." he said, his voice desperate. "And I wish someone would come and take me away. Right now."

As soon as the words left his lips, he began to feel dizzy. Within moments, his world went black.

****************************************************************

Jareth, King of the Goblins and Ruler of the Labyrinth, sat on his throne, brooding. As had been common for the past fifteen years, his thoughts were centered on two people: Sarah and Toby Williams. The ones who had gotten away.

For probably the billionth time since Sarah had refused him, he wondered what was happening with them now.

He had checked on the two of them in the crystal almost daily for the first three years. But soon, watching Sarah grow into such a mature, beautiful woman became too much for him, and the looks into the crystal had become less and less frequent, until at last they stopped altogether, the day that Sarah turned nineteen. The last time he had seen young Toby was that day.

The boy had been three weeks from five, and had been a bubbly, happy child, despite the cold, distant attitudes of his parents. Jareth knew Toby had the precious Sarah to thank for that.

But that had been over ten years ago. In fact, it was ten years and three weeks, exactly. Toby would be turning fifteen today.

Somewhere deep down in Jareth's icy heart, Toby had found a place. The two had bonded during the infant's near thirteen hour stay with the king, and Jareth had said ever since, that if Sarah had chosen to stay, he would have defenitly made the boy his heir.

Jareth smacked the riding crop in his hand against the arm of the throne and let out a curse.

"I swear, if I ever run into that troublesome Sarah Williams again, she will pay!" he yelled at the ceiling.

Temper tantrum over, he relaxed into the throne, and his depressed state of mind once again.

He didn't mean what he said. He never meant the things he yelled to the walls about Sarah. He was simply angry, he had realised that a long time ago. Angry at the little snip of a girl that had slighted him, and refused his love.

"Don't think about her now. It's no use." he told himself. Still, his mind wandered, not listening to the command. Her hair, her lips, and those cruel, cruel eyes were all Jareth could think about.

Until a piercing cry rang through his mind. For a moment, he wasn't even sure he had heard it. It hadn't sounded real...not like a voice...like a...a thought. A desperate thought. A mind, screaming for help.

He listened hard, trying to hear the sound again. He didn't. Instead, he heard soft words, these sounding real and audible, the tone a soft alto of a teenage boy's voice.

"I wish someone cared about me. And I wish someone would come take me away. Right now."

Jareth quickly picked up the crystal and looked into it, bidding it to show him the face of the speaker.

Hazily, as though through fog, Jareth saw the source of the voice. A boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen, curled up on a bed, his eyes red from crying, and his face looking pitifully lonely.

Jareth looked around the room the crystal showed him. Wooden shelves, a four-poster bed, surrounded by playbills as well as posters from rock groups.

Jareth recognised that room.

"Sarah."

And with a closer look, he recognised the boy.

"Toby."

In a split second, Jareth made a decision, not giving the rational part of his mind time to convince him otherwise.

And moments later, as he smiled devilishly at the blonde haired, blue eyed, red faced teenage boy laying sprawled on his throne room floor, a distant but familiar song began to play in his head.

"Dance, magic dance.

Dance, magic dance.

Put that baby's spell on me..."