Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews and feedback! I really appreciate it all. I plan to keep this story updated rather regularly, so on weeks where I'm not totally swamped at work I hope to be putting up at least 1-2 new chapters. Enjoy!

Warning: violence and torture, some sexual content below

In the land of gods and monsters
I was an angel
Living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed
Shining like a fiery beacon

Gods and Monsters, Lana Del Rey

He is seething. She had escaped him once again, and this time very much at his own fault. Jareth returned to his kingdom empty handed and now sat amidst the remains of his chambers, a mess of debris from his outburst upon arriving. His mind finally began to settle as he sipped slowly on a dark mead as he processed the events of her dream. He'd been so utterly intrigued by her, her unexpected behaviors and that beguiling act she'd put on for him. Not to mention it was the first time he'd been able to see her in one of her dreams, not just mere glimpses as she ran from him. Even cast in shadows, surrounded by the sparkling moonlight of the Underground, she was breathtaking. He'd been rendered useless during such a vital opportunity over something so pathetic as a pretty face and mesmerizing conversation. She had gotten away, and she'd reveled in that victory, the sound of her laughter still ringing in his ears. She was nothing he had expected or anticipated, and he mused over the fact that her ambivalent and senseless behaviors, paired with the delicious curves she'd developed, had saved her a much more damaging encounter with his dismal mood. He'd been set off his plan from the start, his desire to tear her apart overthrown by his painful arousal and his curiosity as he'd been left wondering what she'd do every step of the way. She'd surprised him, continuously, and he both despised and marveled at the fact.

This matter of Doctor Jones was an issue in itself, one he would have to settle. There was an animalistic obsessiveness that had been rooted inside him when it came to his champion, but now it was growing rabid. If she was going to suffer, it would be at his hands, and if this Doctor had even the slightest involvement in his inability to reach her these past years, or had damaged her irrevocably, then there'd be blood spilt over it.

She'd clearly escaped this Doctor somehow, even speaking of him as if amused with his treatment of her, yet there'd been a deadly spark in her eyes as she mused over her memories of the man. Whatever he'd done to her had made her into this new being, one that Jareth felt an unnerving desire for. She even seemed willing to play their little games from her youth. Games she had once run from, she now turned on him with glee. But there were much more fun games to initiate if she wanted to play. He had to be stealthy, not lose his thoughts for even a moment when he was with her next. He had to play with that jaded mind, manipulate her just a bit further off the ledge, to get her where he needed her. She had to call for him still for him to succeed, and he would make it so that she screamed his name in the end.

She would be… such a treat.

It's early in the morning and the light is just beginning to trickle into her room. She didn't sleep again after arriving home from the carnival. Nor did she the two nights that followed. Sarah moved to sit on the sill of her window, wrapped tightly in a blanket as she stares out into the misty grey morning. Her mind was unable to find ease as her appointment with the good Doctor approached. He is more aggressive now, it would appear. Brazen enough to show up at her home, to grab at her. What would he have done to her that night of the carnival if she hadn't gotten away? Her stomach twists at the thought.

The Doctor had requested Karen keep close watch on her pill intake, and Sarah could have keeled over that the woman jumped at his command to do so. It had taken less than a day for her to realize what Sarah had done with them, and in even less time did she have a refill placed through Doctor Jones, who compassionately calmed Karen down from her worries, assuring her it was all too common behavior in unstable patients. Sarah is exceptionally good at faking that she was taking her medication, but it didn't help that she is tempted to take them, if only to forget… But she wants to see Jareth again, she wants to know why she can touch him in her dreams, why it doesn't bother her, and what it is he wants from her to pursue her so recklessly. What did he give her all those years ago? She knows, deep down, that he hadn't intended a mere kiss to be his payment. If she knew him as the fiend he is, there is something he will ask her to forfeit to him, whatever 'gift' he had given her before. She must simply uncover what it is before that can happen. It is that reason alone that she continues to flush them each night and morning after pretending to swallow them as Karen watches.

Her first appointment is with him today. Karen drops her off at the front steps of his home. He does his therapy sessions at his in-home office, which Sarah finds deliriously entertaining. What would she find inside the good Doctors home? Would it be pristine and boring? Filled with pictures of his family and friends like some normal individual living a fulfilling life? Karen waits for Sarah to ring the doorbell and see the wooden door swing open before she pulls away, leaving Sarah with a twisted smile on her face as she stares up at Doctor Jones from the other side of the screen door. He is smiling brightly as he beckons her inside. He does a double take at her attire for the day, and she winks at him just to watch him turn red with unsettled irritation at her boldness. She's wearing slightly baggy jeans high-rise jeans and another cropped shirt that leaves her waist bare, her hair in pretty waves and even a touch of makeup today. She wants to unravel his sense of power, make him unsure of his methods, of how much control he ever really had, even if her stomach rolls in revulsion as she sits across from him.

"Sarah. I would like to apologize for my behavior the other night," He begins, setting a glass of water on the table in front of them as he fixes his glasses.

"What behavior might that be, doc?" she asks with a sugary sweet tone that makes his lip twitch. He clears his throat and flips open his notepad before continuing.

"I simply worry over your well-being..."

"My well-being?" she interrupts him with a haunting chuckle, and she knows how utterly infuriated that makes him. "Do you attack all your patients once they've left your control? Or am I... special?" She's twiddling with her hair and his eyes are glued on her. The brown depths are rattled, and she loves that he can do nothing now, not when Karen is set to be back in just twenty minutes from now.

"I hear you've been taking your medication, like a good little girl," he emphasizes his choice of descriptive words in a way that makes her skin crawl.

"Anything for you, Doctor Jones."

Sarah stands and begins leisurely strolling about his office, inspecting the old furniture and the wall of books he has, as well as the framed degrees he holds. She imagines lighting them on fire, watching the paper disintegrate till the flames singe her fingers, and then perhaps she'll let the flames take her with them...

Her eyes snap up and she notices Doctor Jones watching her, his tension palpable as he clutches the leather arms of his chair, a show of restraint that makes her wary but also flares her amusement and that careless desire to taunt him.

"Aren't you going to ask me more questions for your report?" she mocks his discomfort, grin spreading as he clears his throat once more.

"How have you been feeling?" he asks, clicking his pen to begin writing, dragging his eyes from her.

"Peachy," she purrs, continuing her waltz around the small room, noticing a very sharp, brass letter letter opener lying openly on his desk.

"Any trouble sleeping?" he continues, the scratching of his pen still going as she approaches the desk slowly.

"Not at all." Sarah's hand trails over the papers and books stacked on his desk, the space in complete disarray.

"And what about your dreams? Have they returned?"

Sarah's hand freezes over blade, the cold metal against her finger tips as she becomes glued on the piece, eyes going starkly vacant and her breathing dipping shallowly as her mind slips off into dark memories...

xxxx

The good doctor is standing over her, her body bound to the cold tabletop, a flimsy medical gown the only barrier that covers her as the nurse swabs a cold liquid against her temples. Sarah is frozen stiff, her eyes vacant as they ready her for the doctors treatment, completely removed from her reality and tucked safely away in her head. She's been here before, she knows what's next, she doesn't to experience it again. The Doctor is staring down at her, a clinically sterile smile on his face as he watches the nurses force a leather biter between her teeth. He's been so displeased with her lately, he thinks she's given up, or at least attempting to, to mentally hide from his treatments and his games. She stopped speaking, almost entirely, stopped eating, stopped fighting. She was as docile and obedient as a well-trained dog. But he grows even more uneasy around her now, and he fidgets incessantly as he tries to prod and poke her from this state. She isn't sure what he wants anymore. In the beginning he wanted submission, complacency. The moment he'd received it, he wanted her to fight back, to continue challenging him. She assumes this impromptu treatment is a result of her zombie-like state over the last week. He's annoyed with her monotone, withdrawn attitude, or perhaps he is merely bored. They were only permitted four weeks worth of this type of treatment, yet he's informed the nurses that her father permitted another six weeks. She knows he's lying, his eyes shift uneasily when he does so. But just as before in all their other encounters, she doesn't argue or resist, her mind is a million miles away, thinking of magic and how she wished she knew how to use it. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to make him suffer in return. It is such a wonderful state of mind, imagining all the things she would do to him if she could. She wonders if her Goblin King will see her tonight, but she knows that something about this particular treatment always blocks him. He can never reach her after one of these sessions, and she hates that the Doctor can take her one pastime from her, even if he doesn't know it.

Doctor Jones leans beside her, just close enough to whisper in her ear as the nurse moves away to ready the machine.

"Perhaps this is just the jolt you need, Sarah," his words are pointed and demeaning, and she knows that he will enjoy this with every sick fiber of his being.

Doctor Jones moves to the head of the bed and takes hold of the two metal pieces covered in a thin layer of protective material, attached to wiring that connects to a tan box with dials on the front. They think he has administered her anesthesia, but he hasn't, he never does. He adjusts it so each bit rests against her temple, before cupping her chin in his hand, the latex of his gloves making her skin crawl. He smiles down at her before turning to a nurse and giving a directive, but she can't hear anymore, her ears deaf from a ringing that won't stop as fear escalates and her heart races. His grip tightens and she clenches her eyes shut. She's thankful that there is no impending wait, no prolonged anticipation for the pain, because even the nurses have a line and they don't like scaring the patients unnecessarily.

It jolts through her like electric fire, her body feels as though it's being boiled from the inside out. Her muscles contract and release repeatedly, painfully, her body convulsing as the currents ripple through her mercilessly. She can't breath, or see, or move. Her entire being is controlled by this pain for moments on end, until she finally passes out and escapes to darkness.

xxxx

"Sarah?" he asks with mild admonishment in his tone. He is peering over his shoulder at her curiously and she jerks her hand back from the blade, shaking her mind from its dark state, turning toward him and leaning against the desk fluidly.

"Just one," She says smartly. Doctor Jones raises an eyebrow at that. She hasn't admitted to a dream in at least two years.

"And what happened in this dream?" he continues to write in his notepad. Someday she hopes to rip it from his hands, read every little thing he's ever written of her...

"I saw him," she says simply, moving toward the window of his study, pleased that this movement is visibly disconcerting to him as he subtly shifts to keep his eyes on her.

"Him? The Goblin King you've mentioned?" Sarah nods.

"What happened in your dream?" Doctor Jones pushes.

"He attacked me, taunted me. He wanted something from me."

"What could he possibly want from you after all these years? Perhaps it was merely a projection of your life and memories within your dreams? Did I leave an adverse effect on you, sweet Sarah?" Doctor Jones smirks at that, his pen no longer moving.

Sarah slowly turns back to him, taking slow measured steps till she is just before him. She leans forward, letting her hand rest on the head of the chair behind his head, her hair cascading around them and filling the space between their faces with the scent of roses.

"I would never mistake you for him, Doctor Jones. You're not even playing in the same league. You are a human playing the game of a god. He's just the devil who knows how to play it better."

She is whispering, almost sweetly, as she speaks, but there is venom and disgust in her eyes, and she smiles prettily as she pulls away, leaving the Doctor fumbling for his next words. She enjoys making him speechless, but she can see the flicker of something dangerous growing in his eyes. Doctor Jones was more mad than his patients would ever be, and wherever that madness lurked inside him, it was beginning to slowly make its way to the surface. Sarah just hoped she was able to end this game with him before he did. Karen's horn beeps several moments later, breaking the silence between them. Sarah smiles brightly, as though she'd just had a wonderful time and was off to her next adventure. In seconds she is waving back at him brightly from the window of her step-mothers car as they drive off, leaving a terrifyingly insidious looking doctor watching from his study window.

Sarah sits through another long and painful dinner of questions and awkward silence that night. She isn't eating much these days and eventually fatigue catches up to her, allowing her to slip into a deep slumber.

There are tall walls around her, so tall she can't see where they stop past the mist circulating around her in the dark lighting of the Labyrinth. She is running, somewhere in the middle of the this game of cat and mouse, much like her other dreams of this place. She can sense that she is being chased, but she can't see him. His presence is there though, and she grins as she takes a sharp corner and wheels around to see that she's hit a dead end. Without pause she turns back to the way she'd come, awaiting her King to arrive. She's not so afraid of him now as to keep exhausting herself by running in circles. She found she much rather another face off, a chance to perhaps see him fully now, without the shadows to hide him. He'd been so terrifyingly exciting, what she'd seen of him had been handsome, but she still couldn't piece together all the images of his face, her mind hurting every time she tried. She waits patiently, striking a relaxed pose as she leans against the wall behind her and twirls a strand of hair between her fingers.

Sarah is watching the entrance she came through expectantly, so when the wall behind her vanishes without notice, she takes a hard tumble backwards into a completely new area of the Labyrinth. Her head bounces off the stone floor and the sharp pain rattling through her skull is enough to make her see stars briefly.

He's leaning beside the opening on the wall he created between the two rooms, smirking down at her as she blinks away the pain. He'd thought it best to wipe that confident, albeit bored, look off her face before revealing himself to her. It leaves an uneasy thrill in his bones that she dared to challenge him so openly. The scent of copper fills the air and his blood warms with excitement. She's much more physical in these dreams than she was as a child, her mind bent far enough in their time apart that she accepts the results of the dreams as if they're reality, and he savors her newly developed weakness.

Sarah sits up and a hand tentatively reaches behind to touch her hair. Her fingers come away coated in thick red liquid and she stares at it dazed.

"Can you bleed in dreams?" She asks, her voice entrancingly soft as she watches the red run down her slender fingers.

"Only if you believe you can."

His voice is condescending and seductive as it was before, a combination she will never forget. His words confuse her but he leaves her with no moment to process them. Jareth snatches her by her collar and jerks her to her feet, giving her a hard shove forward till she almost stumbles to the ground again, catching herself quickly on the corner of a massive stone in the center of the circle they stand in before she takes another hard fall. She pulls herself upright and runs a hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face gracefully as she turns her eyes on him with strikingly fluid movements.

"Another night, another demon. Did you miss me?" She flashes him a perfect smile, but her eyes are deadened. He begrudgingly notices that she is thinner than before. How long had they been apart this time? He thought it had only been a few days, but if that were true then she'd have been starving herself for this noticeable of a difference. This unsettles him far more than it should, and not because he is not the one depriving her of nourishment. The mere thought of her withering away like that is enough to draw a subtle growl from deep within his chest.

"I merely came for my payment. I would never waste the energy to miss something as insignificant as you, my darling girl," he mocks her, a contemptuous smirk on his lips. Sarah sighs, eyes falling to the stone beside her where her bloody hand is resting. She ignores his remark on the payment, focusing on his insult instead.

"The Doctor says much the same, however I believe you both to be careless liars."

Jareth's jaw clenches, sharply displeased she is comparing him to a mere mortal, tormentor or not.

"He seems to have a bit of sense about him when it comes to you. Perhaps it's you who have been the problem, Sarah dearest."

Her eyes flash back up at him and they are jagged pitfalls of danger. He's found a sore spot.

"Perhaps that's true. I seem to have a habit of luring deranged men into my life." She is grinning, mocking him. He wants to strike the look from her delicate face.

"Clearly he's done nothing to silence that smart mouth of yours," he says, sounding theatrically bored with the topic at hand, but he is viciously intent on discovering just how vital it will be to dispose of the Doctor for touching what is his, once he has Sarah safely in his grasps.

"Oh, but he did try. Though he's been a help in some ways I suppose," Sarah coos softly, circling the stone as her one bloody hand remains on it, fingers brushing the top of it lightly. She is hypnotic to watch in the moonlight, and he wishes he could force her to see the sun in these dreams, if only to break the illusion of her beauty.

"How ever would that be?" He continues without pause, taking slow and precise steps towards her, hands itching to take hold of her before she slips away again.

"Well, for starters, I'm not so afraid of you anymore, am I?" she smiles disparagingly at him, she either knows or assumes how irate the idea makes him.

Before she can respond he is on her again, hands gripping the sides of her face tightly. She stares up at him as if in awe, her pink lips parted in surprise, and he struggles to find his words momentarily as he is once again surrounded with her delicate scent and the warmth that radiates from her, even in this diluted, dream-like version of her.

"Are you so sure, Sarah?" he growls down at her, sharp teeth flashing prominently, but of all the emotions that flicker in her eyes as she stares back, fear is not one of them.

Instead, he notes how very confused and focused she appears once again, though he has no idea what he's done to confuse her, not that he doesn't enjoy the prospect of turning her mind upside down eventually. She is staring at him with fierce intrigue, her breathing hitching, as if expectantly anticipating something that never comes.

"Does that frustrate you, Jareth? Have I taken all your fun away now? Will you take your payment and go then?" there's a ghost of disappointment in her words, and he has no idea why it would bother her if he were that easily dissuaded from her. If anything, it only makes his temper boil ever thicker, his desire to drag her by her hair to his castle and show her just how terrifying he can be.

"My darling, broken little thing," he says with mocking tenderness. "I so desperately need to remind you of who you're dealing with. Soon enough, you shall wish it were the Doctor, and not me, who haunts you."

Sarah blinks at him smartly. "The Doctor does haunt me. Did you think it was only you?" she laughs bitterly, her eyes lighting animatedly with amusement. "Oh, Goblin King. You are not alone in your quest to entrap me. In fact, I just saw the good doctor today." His grip tightens without thought, but she ignores the flicker of pain and continues to taunt him with a mesmeric grin on her lips. "I suppose it's just a matter of who succeeds first. You, or Doctor Jones. Or perhaps I'll simply devour you both, have my naughty ways with you before tearing you into tiny... little.. bits..."

Jade eyes flicker sharply as she utters her threat softly, and before his spark of rage at the thought of this mortal man trying to have her can morph into an outburst, she raises a hand to trace down the bridge of his nose. Jareth freezes, unsure what the bloody hell she is doing as her finger continues down his lips where she traces along his bottom one, then down his chin. She is captivated by the movement of her finger as it trails down his face, the twitch of a smile on her lips as she does this.

"Though I can't tell who will enjoy it more. You. Or me," she drawls slowly before leaning up and smashing her lips clumsily against his.

Her soft touches had sent rapture through his being, but her lips against his own make his hunger feral. It is innocent and unsure and he could care less, thoughts ceasing till there is only one; devour her. He shoves her back against the rock, pinning her with his body as he takes her lips savagely. This would work out splendidly with his plan for ensnaring her. If she ached for him already, then she'd be all too easy to toy with, to draw back here until she finally called for him. If she'd thought she could touch the flame and walk away unscathed, he would make her viciously aware that he would never let her. He grips her thighs and lifts her till she is straddling him, her body forcefully pinned against the rock behind her as he sets into a tantalizingly slow grind between her legs. She becomes instantly flushed, her body nearly vibrating and her scent delectably drenched in desire it makes his knees weak, the pull in his gut becoming painful once again as her body surrounds him. He is amazed with how very sensitive she is, the thoughts of how she will whimper and tremble beneath him when he can finally take her make his mind and reason splinter. He grinds his hips into her, his arousal pressing hard against her core and he knows that it would take just a few more strokes before she reaches climax. He wants her there, just on the edge of release, before he leaves her with that unbearable ache. He would never allow her to find release here in these dreams, he would manipulate her desire till she called for him in her own world. Just one little whisper of his name was all he needed, and if she was this deprived and hungry, it would be all to easy to send her waking from a dream with his name on her lips.

Sarah is still reeling from the first touch of his lips on hers. He tastes like ice and magic, and it doesn't burn or sicken like the touch of everyone else. But then he pushes into her and traps her against the rock, his hands sliding down her frail body and pulling her legs around his waist. At first she is merely lost in the feeling of him, the heat pooling between her legs that is so unfamiliar and enticing. But it doesn't take long for her desire to turn sour as she feels that flicker of anger light in her chest as he forces her lips apart. Without thought, she clamps down on his bottom lip till she tastes the copper of his blood on her tongue. Jareth shoves his tongue into her mouth, mixing his blood between them as their tongues tangle, his grip tightening on her, his kiss becoming suffocating and demanding and she wonders if she's somehow only excited him more rather than hurt him.

The rage continues to boil within her as he continues to trap and take from her, even as her body warms and melts to his in a delicious way she has never quite experienced before, her years of isolation leaving her with no experience or knowledge on the matter. She just couldn't help herself, and she's less irritated with her own idiocy than she is with his entitled savagery with her. She couldn't help that he was devastatingly handsome, even in the darkness of her dreams, and that for whatever reason he could touch her easily when no one else could. Despite the fact that he had hurt her several times now, his intentions to cause her harm all to clear, she'd been so curious as to what he would taste like and how it would feel. Not that he deserved more than she offered, and he clearly thought it an invitation. He was trying to dominate her, yet this was her dream, wasn't it?

Then a thought crosses her mind. He had been able to make the wall disappear behind her. If he could manipulate her dreams, couldn't she? Sarah runs with the idea and as his body conforms to her, the cold of his being permeating into her skin, the ground beneath them opens up and swallows them both into a black abyss. He latches onto her as they plummet, but she knows it is no use for him now and she laughs all the way down. She hates dreams where she falls, and she knows this will wake her, her fear of that sensation of dropping enough to bring her back from this world.

Jareth makes impact with a flat surface after Sarah practically dissipates from his grip. It is painful and he snarls as he is on his feet once again eyes searching for her, but he can no longer feel her presence in the dream anymore. She must have awoken herself, her clever maneuver as irritating as it is impressive. Something warm trickles down his chin and he swipes it away with a hand, the red of his own blood covering his fingers. The poor thing has no idea what she's done now, taking his essence into her being will leave an effect on both of them, even outside of this dream. He glares at the new space he is in and when he realizes what she's done he can't help the harsh laughter that he emits. She's sent him to an oubliette, the little harpy. What a treat indeed.

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