A/N: Hi folks. I hope you are enjoying this story. I know I am enjoying writing it. Please review and tell me what you like, what you don't, if there should be more chickens, that is of thing. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Jareth appeared in his throne and took a moment to survey the scene. In the middle of the throne room, just before the sunken pillow pit, Hoggle was screaming, cursing and trying to fight off Jareth's brighter goblins who were trying to protect their king. And since it was not normal for any goblin to give up a good fight, the less bright ones had started fighting each other and, he looked again to double check, yes, one poor sod, WAS fighting a chicken. It seemed the chicken was winning, too.

"ENOUGH!" Jareth snapped out and suddenly the entire throne room became completely and utterly still as all eyes turned to the Goblin King, even if the look Hoggle gave him was murderous.

"Now, Higgle—"

"Oh! It's HOGGLE!" the Dwarf not named anything aside from Hoggle, despite what his king seemed to think, cried.

"Yes, now why, exactly, did you come into my throne room, screaming threats at the top of your lungs, hm?" He threw his leg over the side of his throne and started tapping it with a riding crop that hadn't been there seconds before.

"You took her!" Hoggle accused, glaring at his monarch. Sarah always had brought out his bravery.

"You wished her away," the Goblin King snapped, accusing right back.

"You know I didn't mean that!"

Jareth threw back his head back and laughed.

"Come now Hilsbury—"

"Hoggle—"

"You should know that what's said is said. You spoke, the Labyrinth heard and brought a delightfully warm Sarah into my bed. I suppose I should thank you for that." He leered, and Hoggle shifted uncomfortably. The rest of the goblins had backed up, watching the two wrestle without a single blow being exchanged.

"You shouldn't have taken her! It's the anniversary of—" Jareth held up a finger and stopped Hoggle in his tracks.

"Hoggle, I expected better of you. You take things for granted." That gave Hoggle pause. The King had used his name. He only ever did that when things there was something truly important to pay attention to, like when he offered to make Hoggle the Prince of the Land of Stench. He thought back over their conversation. His eyes widened when he realized his mistake.

"You didn't take her at all," he whispered. "The Labyrinth did." Jareth looked down at Hoggle, eyes dead serious.

"Yes, she did. It seems she has decided to take a direct hand in this affair."

"God and Goddess protect us," Hoggle said quietly.

All in all, Jareth could only agree.

Sarah appeared in the front hall of her house, feeling somewhat slightly dazed, eyes red from crying and still in her pajamas. They still smelled of him slightly. Sighing softly at the strangeness that had occurred in the last few hours, Sarah shuffled to the kitchen, determined to have some coffee. She opened the door to find a worried Karen questioning her son thoroughly. Toby's eyes flicked to where Sarah was standing in the door. Karen spun around to see Sarah standing there.

"Really, Sarah." Suddenly Sarah was 15 years old again, running in from the rain an hour late. "You leave early in the morning, no note, still in your pajamas, it seems, letting the rest of us worry! What were you thinking?" Sarah knew Karen was overly emotional because of the day it was, and normally, she probably would have snapped back, but she had a strange sense of stillness at her centre. As if she had cried the storm away and was left feeling slightly at peace. Behind Karen, Toby mouthed, 'Sorry.' "Well," Karen snapped in the face of Sarah's continued silence, "will you at least tell me where you've been?"

Sarah's mouth opened, then closed again. Then it repeated the motion a few times. What was she supposed to say? "I was wished away by someone, not sure who, to the Goblin King, but not directly. I woke up in his bed where we argued, then he flew off, I started crying, he flew back and comforted me for a while until I disappeared for apparently no reason at all." Somehow, she doubted Karen would find that a useful explanation. Sarah sighed. She hadn't had enough coffee yet to deal with this. She took a deep breath and looked Karen in the eye.

"You know," she ran a hand through her hair. "I really don't know."

Karen threw her hands in the air. "I wish somebody could give me some answers around here." she cried.

"You know what Karen?" Sarah said softly. "Me too."'

"Oh Sarah," Karen said, throwing her arms around her step-daughter who, after a moment, hugged her back. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Don't worry, Karen," Sarah said, patting the woman who'd helped raise her on the back. "I'm fine. I'm really fine." 'Mostly' she added to herself privately.

Karen did not know yet the power of wishes. Sarah, on the other hand, should have known better. When, after coffee had restored some of her wits, she returned to her room to visit her father's grave, she found Jareth sprawled out on her bed, one eyebrow raised.

"Tell me, Sarah," he asked in his crisp English accent. "Just what did you wish for this time?"