A/N: I've set this story just shy of 12 years after the movie came out and tried to insert 90's references where appropriate. If you grew up back then, hopefully you'll enjoy them. Enjoy!

[Image credit: album cover of Bowie's 1977 "Heroes"-it'll make sense in a few chapters]

May 1998

Toby Williams woke with a start. He'd had that dream again; the one where he was walking through a maze, following the sound of someone speaking his name—always just ahead around a corner. He'd hurry to round the bend, to find no one there and the voice teasing from beyond the next turn. It was a man's voice, a familiar one he'd heard in his dreams his whole life, but still couldn't place it. The voice called to him in an almost mocking tone, as if it's owner knew Toby couldn't remember him.

This time, he'd gotten farther than before. He'd come upon an opening affording a view, with the lowlands below laid with a dense maze that bent in and around itself in a rambling, twisting, impossible to follow fashion. But, as discouraging as it was to see in its entirety, the maze was not what shocked him awake. Across the valley stood a castle, glowing in the amber light he associated with this place. The moment he saw it, he was overwhelmed by a sense of destiny. This castle was his destination. It was where the voice's owner would be found—he knew it with absolute certainty. The accompanying surge of adrenaline had jolted him awake.

Heaving a sigh, he flopped over and covered his head with his pillow. Maybe if he fell asleep again, he'd fall back into the dream. With ironic timing his alarm clock turned on and he groaned as offensively upbeat music suddenly filled the room.

—Macarena...Heeeeeeeeeey Macarena!

He slammed the snooze button just before the painfully annoying "Ay" and cursed the DJ who had chosen to put that song on at six in the morning.

"Toby! Time to rise and shine," his mother's voice, barely muffled by his door, sang out. He groaned again. Monday. The worst day of the week. Unless you count Sunday, which was awful due to its proximity to Monday and the accompanying dread that came with it. "Toby?"

He rolled out of bed and called back grumpily, "I'm up, Mom, I'm up."

...

The phone rang while he glowered over his bowl of Cap'n Crunch. He could guess who it was before his mom picked up the receiver and rolled his eyes when she said, "Oh hi, Sarah!" It was like clockwork: every time he had the dream, his sister would just happen to call. She tried to sound casual and chatted with everyone, but he knew she was really just checking up on him. It would have been eerie, how the timing of her calls nearly always matched up the dreams, except this was Sarah, so weird was pretty normal. Not that Sarah was weird—most people who met her thought she was normal enough. She worked a boring job at the bookstore in town and wrote pretty good short stories that sometimes got published, but more often not.

"Yes, he's right here. I'll put him on, but I have to warn you. He's grumpy as all get out." His mom handed him the phone with a 'be nice' look. It wasn't necessary, he was never really rude to Sarah. Truth was, she was his favorite person—sister, confidant and mentor all rolled into one.

"Hey, Toby!" Her voice was overly chipper, trying to hide her concern. "How's everything going?"

"Fine." He knew he should probably answer with more than a single syllable, but it was early and it was Monday and he just wanted to be back in bed. Preferably finishing that dream. With an effort to be solicitous, he added, "How are you?"

"Oh, okay," she didn't sound okay, but then she turned up the perkiness and added, "Pretty good, really. I got another story published, got the acceptance letter yesterday, which is exciting. They said they'd like to see more of my work."

"Was it the "dragon" one?" Toby asked through a mouthful of cereal, which earned him a disapproving look from his very proper mom.

"No, the "time-travel" one."

Toby nodded and, realizing she couldn't see him, swallowed quickly to say, "Oh, that's a good one. I like the dragon one better, though." That earned him a laugh.

"Of course you do, Toby. You're twelve."

"Almost thirteen," he reminded her unnecessarily; he'd been saying that for the past two months and he still had three weeks to go before his birthday. She chuckled again.

"Oh, my baby brother. All grown up." There was another long pause while he drank his orange juice and she worked up the courage to ask again, "So… you're really okay? Nothing bad happening at school or… anything new?"

"Nope!" He adopted her deliberate cheeriness, "Everything is fine!" Toby confided in Sarah about a lot of things, but he didn't talk to her about the dream anymore. Not since he'd described the maze, three years ago, and watched as horror drained the color from her face. For whatever reason, this dream of his terrified her, so he pretended he'd grown out of them. She still always called when he had them, so he guessed she must know on some level, but he shrugged it off. It was just another one of those weird, inexplicable things.

He quickly wrapped up his portion of the phone call, then handing the phone off to his dad when he walked in the room. From the hesitant way she'd said goodbye, he figured she'd show up tonight to try and talk more. Maybe even pick him up from school, if she didn't have to work.

That would be great, he thought hopefully to himself. Better than riding the bus with that asshole Jeremy. And with that pleasant thought, he dumped his plate in the sink and hurried to catch his morning bus, calling goodbye to his parents as he bolted out the door.

Karen sighed as her baby ran out the door. He was as tall as her and he was going to be a teenager in less than 3 months, as he frequently reminded everyone, but Toby would always be her baby. Maybe it was different for Christopher, she thought as she watched her husband stirring his coffee absentmindedly, with the receiver pinned between his ear and shoulder. He already had Sarah when they'd met and she had been, and still was, the apple of his eye.

Not that he showed any preference of one child over the other, thank god. It could have turned out pretty badly, had that been the case. Toby had come as a bit of a surprise for them both, though a happy one to be sure. The first year had been just miserable. A newborn and a melodramatic teenager under the same roof—oh it had been awful! Karen had begun to doubt they'd ever make it work, and then one day it was all different.

Sarah had completely changed the way she felt about her half-brother, seemingly overnight. She stopped adding the "half" to "brother." She never complained about watching him. She'd given him her beloved teddy bear and soon handed down almost all her toys to him. She'd drop everything to play with him whenever he wanted. She started spending her own money to buy him little treats and take him to the arcade or amusement park. And she was fiercely protective.

Once, while taking a walk in the park, she'd noticed a man was watching them. Turns out he was a former coworker of Karen's. His own kids playing at the edge of the pond, he'd been watching them, trying to place where he knew Karen from. Then Sarah had flown at him shouting that he tell his king to leave them alone. That had been an awkward situation, but she'd secretly been impressed at her stepdaughter's ferocity. There was no way anyone would harm Toby with Sarah around.

Sarah's protectiveness had continued as Toby grew. She doted on him so much, people joked that she was a second mother and, if the truth be told, there had been moments when she had felt Sarah was usurping her role. If she put her foot down, he ran crying to Sarah who invariably took his side. Luckily, her husband always took her side, so it would end up kids pitted against parents and the parents usually won.

Lost in these memories, Christopher startled her by handing over the phone. She congratulated Sarah on having another story published, having overheard both Toby and Christopher discussing it, and enthusiastically pressed for more details.

"They asked to see more of my pieces," Sarah was saying, her voice tinged with both excitement and trepidation. She'd heard this before from other publishers and been disappointed when none of her other work was accepted. Still, it was hard not to get her hopes up. Karen understood this better than most, having dabbled in writing fiction herself. She assured Sarah that persistence would win, as her work was excellent.

"...So, Karen… Is Toby really doing okay?" She sounded more concerned than normal and immediately Karen worried that there was something going on that she didn't know about. Toby had often confided in Sarah, so it was possible Sarah knew more than Karen did, enough to be worried.

"He seems to be fine to me. Why? Is there something going on that I don't know about?" Sarah's moment of silence confirmed her fears and she immediately thought of the boy who'd been bullying Toby for the past two years. "Is it that horrible Jeremy boy? Is he picking on Toby again?"

"No, no," Sarah rushed to reassure her, "I mean, I don't know. He hasn't said anything to me about any of that. He seems fine to me too. I'm just worried about nothing, I guess."

"Sarah," Karen put on her best step-mother voice, "you would tell me if there was something happening to Toby, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. Of course I would. I'd tell you and Dad right away if he was getting picked on or getting into trouble. It's nothing like that."

"...Well then? What is it?"

Sarah hesitated, but finally admitted with a sigh, "It's just that I had that stupid dream again."

"The one with the trolls?"

"Goblins," Sarah corrected her, "Yeah. And it's making me worried for no reason. I'm just being an idiot." She tried to laugh off her embarrassment. "Another example of my fantastic imagination running away with me!"

"Well, that fantastic imagination of yours is going to make you rich and famous someday!" Karen laughed back.

"Do you mind if I pick him up from school today? Take him to the arcade or something? I promise to have him home by five, so he can do his homework before dinner."

Karen readily assented and invited her to stay for dinner afterwards. Sarah, not being a great cook, accepted her offer gratefully. Having survived the awkward teen years, the two of them had settled into a friendly relationship and enjoyed each other's company. They chatted for a bit more, until Sarah realised she was running late for work. Hanging up the phone with a sigh, Karen began cleaning up the breakfast dishes and silently worried to herself that Sarah knew more than she was letting on.

A/N: I originally had all this before the chapter began, but worried so much expository author notes would discourage you, dear reader, from taking on my story. Maybe it's better to let the writing speak for itself, but I can't help myself. I want to give you a little explanation about what I'm thinking and where I plan to take this. I love it when authors on this site do that, so here goes. Feel free to skip it, if you want.

I'm intrigued by Jareth's line about living up to Sarah's expectations of him. Why would he bother conforming to her expectations? And then there's the fact that many characters she meets in the Labyrinth appear as toys in her room before the adventure begins. While the easiest explanation is that the whole thing was a figment of her imagination, that's just boring.

So the premise of this story is: what if the Underground is real, but it and it's denizens (fae, goblin and otherwise) are created only by humans' dreams and imagination? What if their appearance, and to an extent their behavior, is influenced by the humans with which they interact? Finally, given this limitation to his world, what would a very clever, introspective and ambitious Goblin King do to manipulate things in his favor?

...

After some reflection, I realize I'm totally influenced by that other awesome 80's movie The Neverending Story. Imagine how the Child-like Empress might have influenced Bastian, had she been Jareth.