Willow pushed opened the door, her heart beating so fast and so loud in her ears that she was surprised it didn't attract attention. Heat poured out, the room was illuminated only by flames flickering in vast fireplaces and under bubbling cauldrons. There were scents herbs, and meat, and bread, and the sounds of fire popping, and cauldrons of something liquid bubbling, and scurrying noses, some thin and tiny, as if from rat feet, others bigger, more substantial. She almost wished that she could turn around and go home… But she had no idea how to get 'home' from here.
She was in a huge, terrible looking kitchen. Plates and pots crusted with grime towered in stacks near tubs of water, soot covered the walls and the bottoms of pots. Smoke made it even harder to see, and made her eyes water and her throat itch. Overhead, there were carcasses hanging, raw meat and exposed bones making the place look even more dreadful. She couldn't tell what the meat had come from, and wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to know. There had to be a way out of here…
Willow wandered through a maze of ovens, burning cauldrons, and towering dishes. Then, one of the goblins spotted her. Willow heard a clattering sound as a heavy looking tray was dropped by a short figure with dark skin, huge ears and droopy skin, a figure that had little beady eyes that hissed, showing sharp looking teeth. "Intruder! Intruder in the kitchen!"
With outraged shouts, goblins grabbed cleavers, fire pokers, and barbeque forks, charging towards Willow. They looked furious that anyone would dare intrude upon their domain, and quite willing to chop her into little bits as a punishment. None of them were even her height, but they still managed to look entirely menacing, terrifying in fact.
Willow screamed, turning and running through a gap in the cauldrons, hoping that she could find a way out, hoping that she was faster than the goblins, that she didn't run into more of them in these kitchens. She ran, dodging piles of dishes, weaving though corridors, almost running over yet another goblin that howled and joined into the pursuit. She was panicking, and wondered if she'd even be able to get out alive.
A shape of brightness shone ahead, and Willow felt a spark of hope. A doorway… if she could just reach it… She charged through, hoping that she would end up somewhere that wasn't filled with goblins. Almost anywhere would be better…
Willow found herself in a long corridor, paved and walled in gray stone. It seemed to go on forever in either direction. It was empty, with occasional little tufts of yellowed grass growing up between the stones, or tall stalks of weeds with rattling seed pods or dried flowers. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. For the moment, this would have to do. Nobody was chasing… wait, the doorway had been… Willow spun around, expecting goblins with cleavers and pokers to be pouring out behind her.
But she saw only a stone wall. There was no doorway, no sign that there had ever been anything but gray stones piled on top of each other.
"Now that was freaky. Okay, you can't even backtrack because things keep changing… I don't know if that's good or bad." She began walking down the corridor, picking the direction that put the sun at her back instead of in her eyes. That was the only difference that she could see in either direction.
Willow didn't notice the small worm that peeked out from a crack in the rocks, watching her go past. "Not another poor lost girl. 'Onestly, I really don't know where he finds them all."
The corridor seemed almost to ripple, extending longer in front of her. Willow sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "This is ridiculous. Even a magic maze can't just… well, maybe it can. There has to be a better way…"
She leaned against the wall, trying to figure out some way to keep from walking forever. Maybe if she trailed her hand along the wall, she would discover if there were any openings that were covered by illusion? It wasn't a very good plan, but it was the best that she had right now. Willow started walking again, her fingers trailing lightly over the rough stone.
end part 4.
Amy could feel herself relaxing a bit, the lush green grass soft beneath her feet. Shadows and the orangish sunlight dappled over the area in broken patterns, and graceful trees lined the courtyard. She could hear the sleepy drone of bees, and unfamiliar birdsong from the tree tops. She smiled, walking among the trees, looking at the unexpected beauty of this area. There was even a tiny stream burbling through the grass. She wandered over, kneeling beside it. Her throat was parched after her experience in the hot sand colored maze.
The water was as clear as glass, running over stones and pebbles. Amy cupped her hand, lowering it towards the water. It was as cold as ice, and she lost the feeling in her hand almost immediately. It wasn't until after she'd swallowed a mouthful of the bitterly cold water that she noticed the red lines of color now flowing past her. Her eyes grew wider as she saw a crimson droplet fall towards the water, creating yet another scarlet ribbon of color.
She turned her hand over, still not feeling anything. Slashes covered the back of her hand, and blood welled up, red and thick. Horrified, she looked back at the rocks that the water sang over, this time noticing all the sharp edges that covered them. It was with a great deal of caution that she washed the back of her hand until it stopped bleeding. She ripped the sleeve of her shirt, making a crude bandage for her hand out of it.
That was quite enough of that little stream. Lurching awkwardly to her feet, Amy resumed walking, feeling most unsettled by the whole incident. She'd thought the stream was safe, but she should have known better. Nothing here was safe. She began shivering, feeling suddenly cold, the numbness of her hand slowly spreading upwards. She kept walking.
The trees changed, going from broad leaved shade trees to a grove of fruit trees. But the trees were oddly confused, bearing flowers, ripening fruit and fruit that looked so gloriously perfect that it made her mouth water to look at them. Some held fruit that she could recognize – apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Others held things that she couldn't identify, tiny clustered berries that looked almost like yellow green raspberries, things that looked like brown furry ovals, things that looked like melon sized globes of blue… The mingled scents of so many different fruits were rich and almost intoxicating.
She could see the bees now, green and yellow striped creatures as large as hummingbirds. They had wicked looking stingers, and moved from flower to flower slowly. One tree held a massive hive, the oddly colored bees flying in and out in an almost orderly fashion.
The fruit smelled and looked so tempting… Would it hurt if she ate one? Would it do something dreadful to her? How much of a choice did she have? She'd been brought to this labyrinth, left to find her way to the middle or not. Nothing had been given to help her on her way, was she expected to starve? The idea didn't appeal very much to her.
Her hand reached out, plucking an apple from one of the trees. The sleeve-bandage looked so harsh, so out of place next to the fruit laden branches… A single piece of fruit couldn't hurt that much, and she felt so hungry. She took a bite, the apple crisp and tart, juice dripping from her chin.
She didn't notice the flurry of wings as every bird that had been perched in the apple tree took to the air. Amy paid no attention to the harsh calls of the birds, or the angry hum of the bees that the birds had disturbed. She didn't notice that the few birds that had been stung by the bees fell to the ground, no longer moving.
Gazing into the crystal, Jareth smiled. "Yes, eat the goblin fruit, Amy. You can't stop the inevitable. Much too late now, even if you wanted to try."
He released the crystal holding the images of Amy back into the small cluster circling near his hand. "Hmm… I wonder if anyone's even missed the pair of them."
With a gesture, silver sparkles flew together, swirling and glowing until they had formed what almost appeared to be a silvery white mirror in a slightly ovaled shape, hovering in front of Jareth and his throne.
"Show me Sunnydale."
End part 5.
The silver disk flared for a moment before darkening, showing a night time scene. At a casual glance, it looked like a normal two story house in a normal town, with concrete sidewalks, and yards with careful flowerbeds and the occasional lawn ornament. The stars glimmered overhead, and the moon was partly obscured by the scattered clouds. A pale haired figure in a flowing black leather coat stalked down the street, making his way towards the house. His blue eyes looked cold, and he held a cigarette in one hand.
Without pausing, he opened the door, stalking into the house, and into a bedroom. Stuffed animals and lace edged pillows lined a bed with a rumpled pastel comforter, and a computer sat on a desk beside a bookshelf stuffed full of the most interesting assortment of literature. Cheap romance novels, science fiction, and historicals were stacked two deep on the top shelf, the second holding volumes on various plants, on historical cultures and Wicca beliefs mixed in with volumes of scientific theory about computers, electronics, psychology and medicine. On the bottom were texts on demons and mystical rituals, artifacts and borrowed Watcher's chronicles. There was also a near pristine looking copy of what was labeled 'the Slayer's Handbook'. The balcony doors stood open, and papers had been scattered onto the floor, as if from a gust of wind. A fine layer of a silvery glittering dust coated the room.
"Bloody hell, how did this happen?" The man's words held an angry edge to them, and he actually growled as he looked around again. He glared at the long mirror standing beside the changing screen, the mirror reflecting the room, but not the blond intruder.
He pressed a finger on the silvery dust, the tip shimmering as he lifted it. Carefully, he licked the shimmering powder away, growling as he did. His eyes snapped open, golden, his teeth changed to sharp fangs, his features more feral, menacing. "Goblin magic. Damn."
He swept back out of the house, slamming the door behind him, a gesture more of anger than any concern for the security of the house. He made his way unmolested by the various demons or vampires to an apartment complex, going to a particular apartment that had a rather aged and weathered looking tan car in the front. His fist contacted the door harshly, almost threatening to break the wood.
"Just a moment!" The querulous voice had a decidedly British accent, something rather out of place in a small California town. There was a slight ratting, and then the door cracked open a few inches. "Ahh, Spike. Kindly stop trying to break my door so that I may unlock it."
After the shortest amount of time that the older man could open the door, the blond stalked inside. "There's a problem at the witch's house."
"Well, yes, I was wondering why she didn't arrive for the research tonight. Was there some sort of… personality clash?" Rupert Giles adjusted his glasses, as if uncomfortable with his visitor.
"Nothing that simple. Tell me, Watcher. How much do you know about Goblins?" The blond had resumed his human features, but he was still clearly angry.
"Goblins! Goodness, that's not the sort of question I normally get." He walked into the kitchen, returning with a cup of tea. "Do you mean the scattered goblins, or… those of the Kingdom? Spike, this is not the sort of thing to be taken lightly."
"I'm not taking any of this lightly." Spike started pacing, one hand playing with his lighter. "I went to check on the witches. Starting to think they've got a problem too big to just hope it'll go away if you give them the cold shoulder. Red's house was empty, her balcony doors wide open, like a big gust of wind. And the whole blasted bedroom was coated in glittering silver dust. What the bloody hell does that sound like to you, Watcher?"
"Damn. Someone made the bloody wish. Who would be foolish enough to wish anything after everything that we've been through? After having Anya around for the past three years?" Giles sipped at his tea, frowning.
"I have a guess. Dawn. She's young, damn angry at the pair of missing witches, and has her sister's tendency to ignore the advice of everyone else." Spike scowled, the expression far more intimidating on him than on Giles.
"Logical." Giles almost looked like he'd taken a sip of pure lemon juice instead of tea. "I suppose we shall have to go ask her about it."
"Right, just waltz in, say 'Buffy, we think your sister wished the trouble making witches into a magic kingdom'? I'm sure that'd go over well." Sarcasm laced Spike's words.
"Close, but not quite. Come with me, if there are goblins about, I'd rather not be out alone." Giles put down his tea, heading towards the door.
They went to another house, and entered through the front door much more calmly than the last home entries of the evening. "Dawn? Are you in here?"
A short blond in a pair of worn jeans and a little shirt came into view, holding a cup of cocoa in her hand. "Giles and… Spike. Dawn's in the living room, moping over her cast. What's the what?"
Giles shook his head, moving towards the living room. "This is an urgent and serious matter, Buffy. I'm hoping that Spike was mistaken in his analysis…"
Buffy looked at Spike, her nose slightly wrinkled in confusion. "In English?"
"I think Dawn made a wish and got Red and Mouse-girl kidnapped." Spike's words were still unhappy, but the growl was absent.
Buffy inhaled, her gaze flickering towards the other room, where her sister was curled in a chair. "She wouldn't… would she? Dawn's heard Anya's stories, she knows what sort of trouble that word can bring. You have to be wrong."
Spike frowned, walking towards the end table. He ran his finger over it, scowling at it. Holding it into the light, the dust shimmered and almost glowed silver. "Does it look like I'm doing this for a lark?"
"That's… since when does household dust look like silver?" Buffy's voice was soft, and she looked at the dust, her finger almost but not quite touching it.
"Real dust doesn't. It's a sign that the Goblin Kingdom had touched this place." Spike's voice was flat, almost hard.
"Of course I meant it! They've caused nothing but trouble! I'm glad that they're not here any more." Dawn's voice carried loud, and she bolted from the room, her footsteps thudding up the stairs until a door slammed from above.
"Okay, maybe she would." Buffy sighed, leaning against a wall. "Can we fix it?"
"Unlikely." Giles sounded weary all of a sudden. "I'll have to check a few books, but… the most likely options for retrieving people depend on the person who made the wish wanting them back."
"This is bad, isn't it?" Buffy's voice was soft, and a single tear glimmered in her lashes.
"Yes." The single word emerged at almost the same moment from both Spike and Giles.
Buffy looked from one to the other, her eyes wide. "You're agreeing. Now I know things are bad."
End part 6.
She was in a huge, terrible looking kitchen. Plates and pots crusted with grime towered in stacks near tubs of water, soot covered the walls and the bottoms of pots. Smoke made it even harder to see, and made her eyes water and her throat itch. Overhead, there were carcasses hanging, raw meat and exposed bones making the place look even more dreadful. She couldn't tell what the meat had come from, and wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to know. There had to be a way out of here…
Willow wandered through a maze of ovens, burning cauldrons, and towering dishes. Then, one of the goblins spotted her. Willow heard a clattering sound as a heavy looking tray was dropped by a short figure with dark skin, huge ears and droopy skin, a figure that had little beady eyes that hissed, showing sharp looking teeth. "Intruder! Intruder in the kitchen!"
With outraged shouts, goblins grabbed cleavers, fire pokers, and barbeque forks, charging towards Willow. They looked furious that anyone would dare intrude upon their domain, and quite willing to chop her into little bits as a punishment. None of them were even her height, but they still managed to look entirely menacing, terrifying in fact.
Willow screamed, turning and running through a gap in the cauldrons, hoping that she could find a way out, hoping that she was faster than the goblins, that she didn't run into more of them in these kitchens. She ran, dodging piles of dishes, weaving though corridors, almost running over yet another goblin that howled and joined into the pursuit. She was panicking, and wondered if she'd even be able to get out alive.
A shape of brightness shone ahead, and Willow felt a spark of hope. A doorway… if she could just reach it… She charged through, hoping that she would end up somewhere that wasn't filled with goblins. Almost anywhere would be better…
Willow found herself in a long corridor, paved and walled in gray stone. It seemed to go on forever in either direction. It was empty, with occasional little tufts of yellowed grass growing up between the stones, or tall stalks of weeds with rattling seed pods or dried flowers. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. For the moment, this would have to do. Nobody was chasing… wait, the doorway had been… Willow spun around, expecting goblins with cleavers and pokers to be pouring out behind her.
But she saw only a stone wall. There was no doorway, no sign that there had ever been anything but gray stones piled on top of each other.
"Now that was freaky. Okay, you can't even backtrack because things keep changing… I don't know if that's good or bad." She began walking down the corridor, picking the direction that put the sun at her back instead of in her eyes. That was the only difference that she could see in either direction.
Willow didn't notice the small worm that peeked out from a crack in the rocks, watching her go past. "Not another poor lost girl. 'Onestly, I really don't know where he finds them all."
The corridor seemed almost to ripple, extending longer in front of her. Willow sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "This is ridiculous. Even a magic maze can't just… well, maybe it can. There has to be a better way…"
She leaned against the wall, trying to figure out some way to keep from walking forever. Maybe if she trailed her hand along the wall, she would discover if there were any openings that were covered by illusion? It wasn't a very good plan, but it was the best that she had right now. Willow started walking again, her fingers trailing lightly over the rough stone.
end part 4.
Amy could feel herself relaxing a bit, the lush green grass soft beneath her feet. Shadows and the orangish sunlight dappled over the area in broken patterns, and graceful trees lined the courtyard. She could hear the sleepy drone of bees, and unfamiliar birdsong from the tree tops. She smiled, walking among the trees, looking at the unexpected beauty of this area. There was even a tiny stream burbling through the grass. She wandered over, kneeling beside it. Her throat was parched after her experience in the hot sand colored maze.
The water was as clear as glass, running over stones and pebbles. Amy cupped her hand, lowering it towards the water. It was as cold as ice, and she lost the feeling in her hand almost immediately. It wasn't until after she'd swallowed a mouthful of the bitterly cold water that she noticed the red lines of color now flowing past her. Her eyes grew wider as she saw a crimson droplet fall towards the water, creating yet another scarlet ribbon of color.
She turned her hand over, still not feeling anything. Slashes covered the back of her hand, and blood welled up, red and thick. Horrified, she looked back at the rocks that the water sang over, this time noticing all the sharp edges that covered them. It was with a great deal of caution that she washed the back of her hand until it stopped bleeding. She ripped the sleeve of her shirt, making a crude bandage for her hand out of it.
That was quite enough of that little stream. Lurching awkwardly to her feet, Amy resumed walking, feeling most unsettled by the whole incident. She'd thought the stream was safe, but she should have known better. Nothing here was safe. She began shivering, feeling suddenly cold, the numbness of her hand slowly spreading upwards. She kept walking.
The trees changed, going from broad leaved shade trees to a grove of fruit trees. But the trees were oddly confused, bearing flowers, ripening fruit and fruit that looked so gloriously perfect that it made her mouth water to look at them. Some held fruit that she could recognize – apples, oranges, cherries, and peaches. Others held things that she couldn't identify, tiny clustered berries that looked almost like yellow green raspberries, things that looked like brown furry ovals, things that looked like melon sized globes of blue… The mingled scents of so many different fruits were rich and almost intoxicating.
She could see the bees now, green and yellow striped creatures as large as hummingbirds. They had wicked looking stingers, and moved from flower to flower slowly. One tree held a massive hive, the oddly colored bees flying in and out in an almost orderly fashion.
The fruit smelled and looked so tempting… Would it hurt if she ate one? Would it do something dreadful to her? How much of a choice did she have? She'd been brought to this labyrinth, left to find her way to the middle or not. Nothing had been given to help her on her way, was she expected to starve? The idea didn't appeal very much to her.
Her hand reached out, plucking an apple from one of the trees. The sleeve-bandage looked so harsh, so out of place next to the fruit laden branches… A single piece of fruit couldn't hurt that much, and she felt so hungry. She took a bite, the apple crisp and tart, juice dripping from her chin.
She didn't notice the flurry of wings as every bird that had been perched in the apple tree took to the air. Amy paid no attention to the harsh calls of the birds, or the angry hum of the bees that the birds had disturbed. She didn't notice that the few birds that had been stung by the bees fell to the ground, no longer moving.
Gazing into the crystal, Jareth smiled. "Yes, eat the goblin fruit, Amy. You can't stop the inevitable. Much too late now, even if you wanted to try."
He released the crystal holding the images of Amy back into the small cluster circling near his hand. "Hmm… I wonder if anyone's even missed the pair of them."
With a gesture, silver sparkles flew together, swirling and glowing until they had formed what almost appeared to be a silvery white mirror in a slightly ovaled shape, hovering in front of Jareth and his throne.
"Show me Sunnydale."
End part 5.
The silver disk flared for a moment before darkening, showing a night time scene. At a casual glance, it looked like a normal two story house in a normal town, with concrete sidewalks, and yards with careful flowerbeds and the occasional lawn ornament. The stars glimmered overhead, and the moon was partly obscured by the scattered clouds. A pale haired figure in a flowing black leather coat stalked down the street, making his way towards the house. His blue eyes looked cold, and he held a cigarette in one hand.
Without pausing, he opened the door, stalking into the house, and into a bedroom. Stuffed animals and lace edged pillows lined a bed with a rumpled pastel comforter, and a computer sat on a desk beside a bookshelf stuffed full of the most interesting assortment of literature. Cheap romance novels, science fiction, and historicals were stacked two deep on the top shelf, the second holding volumes on various plants, on historical cultures and Wicca beliefs mixed in with volumes of scientific theory about computers, electronics, psychology and medicine. On the bottom were texts on demons and mystical rituals, artifacts and borrowed Watcher's chronicles. There was also a near pristine looking copy of what was labeled 'the Slayer's Handbook'. The balcony doors stood open, and papers had been scattered onto the floor, as if from a gust of wind. A fine layer of a silvery glittering dust coated the room.
"Bloody hell, how did this happen?" The man's words held an angry edge to them, and he actually growled as he looked around again. He glared at the long mirror standing beside the changing screen, the mirror reflecting the room, but not the blond intruder.
He pressed a finger on the silvery dust, the tip shimmering as he lifted it. Carefully, he licked the shimmering powder away, growling as he did. His eyes snapped open, golden, his teeth changed to sharp fangs, his features more feral, menacing. "Goblin magic. Damn."
He swept back out of the house, slamming the door behind him, a gesture more of anger than any concern for the security of the house. He made his way unmolested by the various demons or vampires to an apartment complex, going to a particular apartment that had a rather aged and weathered looking tan car in the front. His fist contacted the door harshly, almost threatening to break the wood.
"Just a moment!" The querulous voice had a decidedly British accent, something rather out of place in a small California town. There was a slight ratting, and then the door cracked open a few inches. "Ahh, Spike. Kindly stop trying to break my door so that I may unlock it."
After the shortest amount of time that the older man could open the door, the blond stalked inside. "There's a problem at the witch's house."
"Well, yes, I was wondering why she didn't arrive for the research tonight. Was there some sort of… personality clash?" Rupert Giles adjusted his glasses, as if uncomfortable with his visitor.
"Nothing that simple. Tell me, Watcher. How much do you know about Goblins?" The blond had resumed his human features, but he was still clearly angry.
"Goblins! Goodness, that's not the sort of question I normally get." He walked into the kitchen, returning with a cup of tea. "Do you mean the scattered goblins, or… those of the Kingdom? Spike, this is not the sort of thing to be taken lightly."
"I'm not taking any of this lightly." Spike started pacing, one hand playing with his lighter. "I went to check on the witches. Starting to think they've got a problem too big to just hope it'll go away if you give them the cold shoulder. Red's house was empty, her balcony doors wide open, like a big gust of wind. And the whole blasted bedroom was coated in glittering silver dust. What the bloody hell does that sound like to you, Watcher?"
"Damn. Someone made the bloody wish. Who would be foolish enough to wish anything after everything that we've been through? After having Anya around for the past three years?" Giles sipped at his tea, frowning.
"I have a guess. Dawn. She's young, damn angry at the pair of missing witches, and has her sister's tendency to ignore the advice of everyone else." Spike scowled, the expression far more intimidating on him than on Giles.
"Logical." Giles almost looked like he'd taken a sip of pure lemon juice instead of tea. "I suppose we shall have to go ask her about it."
"Right, just waltz in, say 'Buffy, we think your sister wished the trouble making witches into a magic kingdom'? I'm sure that'd go over well." Sarcasm laced Spike's words.
"Close, but not quite. Come with me, if there are goblins about, I'd rather not be out alone." Giles put down his tea, heading towards the door.
They went to another house, and entered through the front door much more calmly than the last home entries of the evening. "Dawn? Are you in here?"
A short blond in a pair of worn jeans and a little shirt came into view, holding a cup of cocoa in her hand. "Giles and… Spike. Dawn's in the living room, moping over her cast. What's the what?"
Giles shook his head, moving towards the living room. "This is an urgent and serious matter, Buffy. I'm hoping that Spike was mistaken in his analysis…"
Buffy looked at Spike, her nose slightly wrinkled in confusion. "In English?"
"I think Dawn made a wish and got Red and Mouse-girl kidnapped." Spike's words were still unhappy, but the growl was absent.
Buffy inhaled, her gaze flickering towards the other room, where her sister was curled in a chair. "She wouldn't… would she? Dawn's heard Anya's stories, she knows what sort of trouble that word can bring. You have to be wrong."
Spike frowned, walking towards the end table. He ran his finger over it, scowling at it. Holding it into the light, the dust shimmered and almost glowed silver. "Does it look like I'm doing this for a lark?"
"That's… since when does household dust look like silver?" Buffy's voice was soft, and she looked at the dust, her finger almost but not quite touching it.
"Real dust doesn't. It's a sign that the Goblin Kingdom had touched this place." Spike's voice was flat, almost hard.
"Of course I meant it! They've caused nothing but trouble! I'm glad that they're not here any more." Dawn's voice carried loud, and she bolted from the room, her footsteps thudding up the stairs until a door slammed from above.
"Okay, maybe she would." Buffy sighed, leaning against a wall. "Can we fix it?"
"Unlikely." Giles sounded weary all of a sudden. "I'll have to check a few books, but… the most likely options for retrieving people depend on the person who made the wish wanting them back."
"This is bad, isn't it?" Buffy's voice was soft, and a single tear glimmered in her lashes.
"Yes." The single word emerged at almost the same moment from both Spike and Giles.
Buffy looked from one to the other, her eyes wide. "You're agreeing. Now I know things are bad."
End part 6.
