"Did you ever hear the story of Abraham and Isaac?" he asked the boy as he led him through the ruins of the church. The boy shook his head as his eyes wandered over the dilapidated structure. The building had certainly seen better days, about a century ago. The only thing accounting for its still standing was the rough-hewn stones that formed the body of the church. The wooden roof had suffered the most damage over the passing decades. Large holes had been eaten through the frame, leaving the remnants of the roof like a ribcage. Piles of rubbles littered the floor as they made their way to the back of the church. There was a stone alter in what Toby could only assume had once been a pulpit. The sick feeling in his stomach had grown and he found his entire body now ringing with a nausea that made his knees buckle.

The slight drag on the arm that was leading the boy caught the man's attention. Noticing the way the boy's eyes never left the alter, he tried to be comforting.

"Don't worry, it's almost over soon. Isaac felt much the way you're feeling now, I imagine. See, his father, Abraham, loved him so much that God became jealous. He told Abraham that as a sign of his devotion he would have to sacrifice Isaac." As he relayed the tale he continued his stately march towards the alter.

"H-how does it end?" Toby asked.

"Well, God felt that Abraham proved himself and so he stopped him at the last minute." The man explained it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Toby felt the knot of tension loosen slightly.

"Is that how this story will end?" he asked.

The man was briefly startled by the insightfulness of the question. "No, it's not."

* * *

Richard slipped to the doorway of the church undetected. Holding the gun he usually kept in the glove compartment, he sent up a small prayer. Whether it was for wisdom or forgiveness he wasn't sure. He saw the man leading Toby to the alter and he knew, instinctively, what would happen if he didn't intervene. Charging through the doorway and down the aisle, he held the gun steady but his voice broke as he screamed, "STOP!"

* * *

Sarah felt her world fall down.

Finally seeing him, face grubby from too little sleep, his hand clenched by the kidnapper, made something click in her head. She was too far away, running behind Richard towards her little brother. She no longer knew where Jareth was, until she saw him materialize behind Toby and wrench him away.

"NOOO!!" the man screamed. His attention torn between Richard charging and Jareth taking away his prize, he was momentarily stunned. Reality came crashing back when Richard barreled in to him, sending both men onto the floor. The gun came up firmly into his jaw and he had no choice but to watch the blond headed boy, his last chance at salvation, slip away into his sister's arms.

* * *

There was an eerie calm about the place, appropriate for a church but strange given the situation. After Richard subdued the kidnapper, who refused to give his name, they had tied him up with the very rope that had been awaiting Toby. Sarah had placed Toby in her car to wait until they decided what to do with him.

"Sarah, you're his sister, you should decide." Richard said. He offered her the gun.

Feeling mesmerized by the metallic thing in her hand, she simply stared at it.

"Sarah," Jareth said softly, not wanting to startle her, "think carefully about what you're going to do here."

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked, her eyes pleading. "You know Toby's not the first one, what difference would it make if one more scumbag disappears off the face of the earth?"

"Do you really feel that vigilante justice will make the world a safer place?"

"Yes." she said coldly, cocking the gun and pointing it at the man's head.

"Might I point out that had your vigilante justice been performed on this man," Jareth pointed to Richard, "you never would have found Toby?"

Her eyes drifted over to Richard and she realized the hate was gone. But she couldn't erase the nausea that the man tied to the alter brought her. Richard looked worn, defeated by life, but this man smelled evil. She couldn't let him go. As if reading her thoughts, Jareth lowered the gun, saying, "See that he's punished, but see that he's punished properly." His hand reached up from the gun to wipe at the tears she hadn't realized were quietly streaming down her cheeks. Finally, her eyes met his. "I'll call the police."