Willow kept hearing little noises, creakings and the sound of stone moving over stone. No crickets, no sounds of insects or birds or foraging small animals, just the sort of noises that made it sound like something was trying to get her. It almost reminded her of home.

Of course, home didn't feel quite so cold, unless it was winter. And there were generally insects, the sort of noises that didn't make you feel like the only living thing in the area. This area didn't have the small orange goblin sun, but instead there was a large, red orange moon, with craters and shadows. It seemed to loom over the graveyard, casting a bloody looking light over everything. The shadows were thick, and Willow started to wonder just how big this graveyard really was. Was it actually a maze, or just… Did goblins actually die? Was this really a cemetery?

Something made a popping noise behind her. It was all wrong to be a broken twig. Her heart was pounding again as she turned around, uncertain what she would see.

A large mausoleum that she'd just passed was there, looming ominously, the door open. Hadn't the door been closed? She was certain the door had been closed a few moments ago. She decided after a few moments that it would accomplish nothing to stand here and stare at the door, so she turned around and kept walking.

Willow kept walking, her leg still feeling hot and painful, and everything aching. She wasn't certain if the aches were from the exercise, the poison, or something else entirely. But this was not the place to rest. She didn't know what new danger would be here, but it most likely would be a bad place to go to sleep.

She heard a sort of clacking noise from behind and to the left, like small hard things falling against stone. The noise sent a chill along her spine, and Willow started looking for a bigger weapon than the puny stake. Her eyes lighted on a long staff with a sharp blade at the end, and she grabbed it, hefting it in her hands and trying to prepare herself before it quite dawned on her where it had been resting.

It looked like a Goblin nearly her size, in plates of armor. Reddish moonlight glinted off polished planes, shining like blood on the blade of the weapon. In that moment Willow wondered if she was about to die. Then, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was a statue, something carved of stone. Not a real goblin.

There was a sort of noise behind her, like dry grass crunching. There was also a peculiar scent, like badly cured leather and rotting flesh. Something else made a noise, sort of a squelching sound, and there was a roiling stench of something that she could only call rotted bile. Trembling, Willow turned around, knowing that she wouldn't like what she saw.

There were goblin zombies lurching towards her. Some were nearly skeletal, others were… well, much less bony and more with the rotten flesh. Flesh that had swollen, or sagged in putrid browns and bruised tones, rivulets of semi liquid decay falling gradually downwards over abdomens that had swollen and burst. The stench alone was almost enough to knock her to the ground, and her mind swam with the myriad diseases that they could be carrying.

The first one moved towards her, jaw gaping open with sharp, yellow teeth covered in a sort of greenish slime. There were sort of gurgling and wheezing noises, and one eye rolled in the socket.

"Stay back," Willow tried to use something near reason, but her voice shook. Her hands were shaking as the rotting figures moved closer.

Willow swung the weapon, knocking a skeletal arm free from the bony shoulder, and slicing chunks of decaying flesh from several other goblin zombies. She kept swinging, her heart pounding as she tried not to breathe. There were at least a dozen of them, and they didn't seem to be afraid of her at all. The only good side was that the fallen pieces lay still on the ground, merely making the footing treacherous instead of swarming after her like dismembered undead locusts. The odds might have been workable… for a Slayer. Unfortunately, Willow was a witch.

Jareth released the crystal, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Well, she's not about to go quietly. I hadn't expected her to. But it is a bit of a pity. She would have made a delightful goblin. But they are rather restless in that cemetery."

Dismissing Willow from his concern, he tossed the crystal with her image into the fireplace, the resulting flare frightening several nearby goblins. "Well, no point in watching to the very gory end, is there?"

Of course, even the Goblin King can't pay attention to every little detail of the events of the whole Labyrinth. If he'd watched a bit longer, he would have discovered that he'd dismissed Willow's future a bit prematurely. But he'd turned his attentions to a small boy who'd tried to get his baby sister back. His current efforts to pick his way through the Bog of Eternal Stench were amusing.

In the cemetery, a tall figure rose up behind Willow, sharp fangs looking almost bloody in the moonlight, nails sharp, wild hair swirling around a thin face with gleaming yellow eyes and heavy brows. It was not the face of a goblin, but the face of a vampire. One hand grabbed the glaive, pulling it away from Willow even as the other hand grabbed her, pulling her warm body against him. "This one is mine."

The accompanying slash of the weapon caused enough dismemberment that the goblin zombies gave up, shuffling back. There would be time to feast after the vampire had fed.

Willow felt sharp teeth sink into her shoulder, and screamed, partly from pain, partly from frustration. Had she truly ended up in a kingdom full of goblins only to be killed by a vampire? She felt as if her shoulder was burning as much as her leg, and slipped into herself, not wanting to be aware of it if she died.

So Willow didn't realize that the vampire stopped drinking far sooner than it would take to drain her. She didn't realize that the vampire carried her away, into a mausoleum and down into a series of tunnels. Willow would have been quite amazed to see the vampire carefully tend not only the naga bite but his own bite, carefully stopping the bleeding and bandaging them over.

"You could be much more useful alive than simply another meal, red," The slight smile had nothing of kindness, but a great deal of anticipation.

End part 11.

Amy kept seeing the bent mirrors, casting misshapen reflections of herself. Each time, she flinched, and every flinch pulled at the blisters. Every time the dangling strings and fabric smacked into her flesh, she hissed, trying not to scream from the near constant agony. Her feet were throbbing with pain, and probably had blisters of their own.

She collapsed to the ground, mostly seated as she tried to regain control of her emotions. Nothing had been going right. The whole mess of everything since she'd become human again had been one downward curve after another, spiraling into pain and misery and this. She'd been banished to the Goblin Kingdom, and she had the feeling that it had been one of the Scoobies, one of Willow's so called friends that had sent the pair of them here.

But… where was Willow? Was Willow even still alive? Has she been eaten by some huge monster, or trapped and killed in some evil hedge maze? Had she been dragged off to something horrible and drawn out? She felt herself shudder at the idea, at all the ways that someone could be killed in this place. From sticky hedges to minotaurs to evil sharp rocks in clear water… This was not a safe place.

Part of her mind contemplated various scrying and divinations spells, wondering if she could even try to check on Willow. Did she have the needed materials? Did she know a spell that would even work? But… another part was reluctant. If she didn't look, she could think that clever Willow would surely be alright, that her friend was even now getting closer to the castle. She wouldn't be confronted with an image of horrible death.

Yes, it was better if she didn't know what had happened to Willow. She could let herself imagine the best that way. She could hope that someone got the happy ending. Because it really didn't look like she would be going safely back to Sunnydale.

She heard almost happy shrieks, and looked up in tome to see a small group of goblins standing in front of her, blinking their little dark eyes. One of them even wiggled his ears at her as he smiled, showing yellowed tusks at the bottom corners.

"Daddy… she fell into a Grabbit Bush…" One of the goblins whispered. This one was only half the height of the normal ones, the hair just as messy, but much more bouncy. The small goblin sort of bounced in place, rising on toes and sinking down, shifting from foot to foot.

"Yes, Moggit, she did. That's why I keep telling you not to play over there." Tusks nodded at her, and the group kept going.

One of them even looked back, winking at her suggestively. "I 'ope your day gets better."

It took her a few moments before the alarm faded and everything made sense. They'd mistaken her for a goblin. They thought that she belonged here. The idea almost made her cry. She didn't want to stay here, didn't want to be a goblin.

But she wouldn't have a choice if she didn't get to the castle.

Amy lurched to her feet, staggering a bit. Was it from exhaustion? Were those berries having more of an effect on her than just the blisters? But that didn't matter anymore. She kept moving, passing over more wobbly floors and distorting mirrors. The light in here had to be bad… she almost looked greenish in the mirrors. She wasn't green. She wasn't.

Eventually, the twisting passages came to an intersection. One direction had a sign reading 'Howse of Horrars' and the other direction read 'Out'. Beady goblin eyes in knobby goblin faces were drawn into all the O's, and they seemed to watch her as she tried to decided which way to go. In the end, she decided to go out.

'Out' lead her down a bit of a ramp, and into the middle of a slightly undersized village. Thatched roofs sloped crazily, with bent chimney pipes sticking up, and crazy looking weather vanes. Narrow streets twisted along, cobbled almost evenly. It looked… almost peaceful. A goblin village. Best of all, the Castle rose in a towering intimidating mass right beyond the village walls. A huge set of double gates blocked the view of parts of the castle.

A trio of goblins staggered down a road, weaving across it, singing off-key. The lyrics seemed to be something obscene involving a 'Bess' and a sheriff. From the half filled stein in the hand of one goblin to the reek of something almost but not quite beer that surrounded the three goblins, Amy was left with no doubts that they were entirely drunk.

"Drunken goblins… now that is just…" She shook her head, wondering why she wasn't more surprised.

"A human! I saw a human!" A gruff voice bellowed an alarm from behind Amy.

She spun around, looking around in panic. Any moment they would swarm after her… There was a sudden clattering sound, and a bunch of iron plated goblins mounted on what she could only describe as ostrich lizards jogged into view. They each carried lances striped with red and white.

"There he is, get him!" One of the plated goblins roared, his voice echoing from the helmet.

With an appalling amount of clatter, they charged past Amy, and she caught a glimpse of a figure in red darting away. She just gasped for breath, relieved that she wasn't about to be skewered.

But wait, where had the riders come from? Her quick search found that the huge gates had been opened, and she made her way towards them, threading through the large crowd that had gathered to watch the riders chase after the unlucky human.

Maybe she should do something, try to help the guy? Make an effort to keep him from being skewered? Glancing, she saw what looked like a hay wagon, parked precariously along the twisting street. If she pulled the little wedges that kept the wheels from turning… yes. Carefully, she reached with her magic, pulling the wedges sideways, freeing the wheels to turn. It started down the little hill, gaining in speed as it rumbled towards the square that held the most noise.

Having done that, she turned back to the gates, discovering that they were starting to swing closed. She darted forward, her feet sending shafts of agony, her muscles tired and stinging. But she managed to slip through the gates before they closed.

end part 12.