Considering that the last thing she remembered was being bitten by a vampire while surrounded by Goblin zombies, Willow really hadn't expected to wake up. Unless maybe it was as a vampire, but would that really be the same Willow awareness that it had been before? She winced, her whole body aching far too much for abstract philosophy. A quick check revealed that she was breathing with a firm pulse anyhow. While not a bad thing, it only confused her more. Shouldn't she be dead now?

"Glad to see you waking up, red," The voice was a bit rough and deep, as if it had been infrequently used.

There was a brief flare of light before what looked like a small oil lamp was lit. Willow squinted for a moment, puzzling over the odd long shape and pale color before deciding that she really didn't want to get a good look at the lamp, and it was probably made from bone. The figure was sitting on the other side of a small room, not even as big as her bedroom at home, but larger than the bathroom. Long dark hair fell in a wild tangled mass past his shoulders, which were a little bit wider than Xander's. His eyes were pale with dark almost bruise colored rings, but no longer yellow, and looked sunken over gaunt cheeks. Tattered remnants of something that looked like it had once been dark velvet were falling over slightly less tattered pale linen and leather pants.

"Not that I'm objecting… but… why am I still alive?" Willow sat up very slowly, her head spinning just a bit. Her leg felt… different, and a careful look showed that the bandage had been changed. There was another one on her shoulder where the vampire had bitten her.

He chuckled a bit, thin lips twisting into a smile. "Because alive, you can be useful to me."

Willow sighed, wondering when being kidnapped because she might be 'useful' had become something that didn't surprise her very much. "How? This isn't my home, I don't know the area, I have no useful or influential connections… and what makes you think that I'll cooperate anyhow?"

"If you won't cooperate, I drain you." He leaned back just a bit, his eyes still focused on Willow. "You're trying to get to the Castle, hoping to go home. Back to earth. I know how to get to the Castle. In return, not only will I not kill you, but I want out of this damnable maze. I don't want to have to drink the vile fluid that passes for goblin blood, I don't want to hide in a crypt too short for me to stand up in."

Willow blinked, trying to process everything. He wanted to get out of here, which she could understand entirely. "I… I can't control the Goblin King. Even if you go with me to the Castle, he might not send you back. And… if you were wished away, why didn't you get changed?"

"Apparently, his magic works differently on the flesh of the dead, and he decided not to bother. But either nobody came for me, or they failed, and I've been trapped here for a very long time. I realize that you can't control his decisions, but if I get you there, you ask if I can leave as well." He looked at her, the sharp nails of one hand picking at a loose thread on the tattered velvet.

"That sounds… about as good as anything I can hope for here." Willow sighed, hoping that she wasn't simply trading death here for death later. But… couldn't later be pushed back? "So… I'm Willow. What should I call you?"

"Silas." He paused for a moment, almost as if he was listening for a noise too faint for Willow to detect. "It's time for us to go now."

Willow allowed herself the weakness of accepting the offered hand to her feet. His nails scraped just a bit over her wrist, not quite enough to draw blood, but painful. Cold as ice and painfully firm, his grip was extremely useful in becoming upright and mobile, as he half towed her along, going to the left in the room that became a hallway.

Her words were barely audible as she breathed out "Where are we?"

"There are far more mazes than the ones that are first apparent. There's a network of tunnels that run under this kingdom that are so convoluted… I've sorted out twelve mazes so far, and there are still sections that I haven't explored. However, this is a direct route to the dungeons of the Goblin Castle." The gravelly voice was low, almost confusable with the sound of falling pebbles.

Willow nodded, uncertain if he could see the gesture or not. Maybe it didn't matter. As quickly as he was having them go, there must be something else in the tunnels, something that she didn't want to catch up to them. Probably something scary and carnivorous, considering the way everything else in here had gone. She tried to keep her breath for running. Run away from danger… it felt like home, like Sunnydale in the early years, before she'd become a powerful witch, before Buffy had run away and come back and died and been resurrected… Yes, run away and hope they can't smell you.

Everything hurt again, even more intensely by the time he finally slowed down. They went from running to walking, or staggering in Willow's case. Her lungs felt like they were filled with fire, her sides felt like they'd been twisted from all the running, and every muscles in her body except the one the Naga had bit had a throbbing ache. That one burned almost as bad as when it had first been bitten. She gasped for air as she kept staggering forwards.

The corridor was different now. It wasn't packed dirt curving just over their heads anymore. Now, it was smooth gray stones fitted together with an arch overhead, clearing at least ten feet, and almost six feet wide. Part of Willow's mind wondered what needed the tunnel to be so high, while another part worried that their footsteps might draw it's attention. The rest of her was just glad that they were almost there, almost done with the whole maze and being chased and pursued.

Finally, they came to a solid looking gate, apparently crafted of iron, a tiny window with bars allowing some flickering yellow light into the hallway. She could hear footsteps pass through, apparently a single goblin on a patrol. All they did was make certain their faces were not seen through the window, and they remained undetected.

Silas smiled just a bit, and tried to open the door. It didn't move, and he growled at it, trying to reach something through the tiny window. "The damn thing is locked."

"Let me try," Willow moved closer, placing her hand over the place where she could make out the handle. She reached her magic towards it, feeling the thick woven power of the castle. It made her skin crawl, and she shivered. "Please… I can do this…"

There was a loud click, and the door swung open. Willow's head throbbed, hurting as if she'd just performed something incredibly demanding, some major casting instead of a tiny bit of telekinesis.

"A witch. Convenient," Silas reached out, his hand steadying her a bit more gently. "We're almost there now. All we have to do should be go up those stairs."

"Stairs?" Willow tried not to whimper, feeling as if everything was about to fall off, leaving her a wobbling skeleton.

Silas only chuckled, and they began the long climb upwards.

End part 13.

Amy followed the cobbled road upwards, walking counter clockwise around the base of what was either a large rocky hill or a small stone mountain towards the castle. The road made three complete loops before passing under a vicious looking portcullis, which was raised, and a pair of heavy iron gates, cast with snarling faces, currently partly open.

She passed under it quickly, unsettled by the idea of those long, sharp bits of twisted metal crashing down, pinning her bleeding and twitching body to the cobblestones… She shivered, which pulled at all the blisters again, and moved across the open courtyard. It was lined by low hedges that smelled like juniper, with matching fountains shaped like dragons spraying something dark into rippling pools. She could only hope that it was simply murky water.

Finally, she found the door to the Castle, and tugged at it. It was solid boards of wood, something almost as dark as the iron gates of the outer walls. Frustratingly, it also appeared to be quite firmly stuck… Blisters popped with excruciating agony, and she hissed in pain as the door slowly opened, rusted hinges squealing in protest.

Her hands were moist with a combination of blood and a clearish fluid, and she carefully shook them, glaring at the door. "I guess he doesn't use that one very often."

She tried to enter the castle quietly, knowing the effort was futile after the racket from the hinges. The hallway was of dark stone, banded with grays and black, greens and blue and purple all streaming together, the colors shifting with the light and the angle of view. She made her way through a tall, arched room, the vaulted ceiling vanishing into darkness. Pillars carved like trees linked the dark floor to the darkness above, leaving her feeling very small and bedraggled.

The walls here had been plastered, and then inscribed with images, scenes of people lost in mazes, or fleeing from horrible monsters or troops of the mounted goblins. She almost… yes, the images were moving, tiny figures fleeing hopelessly from pursuers that had caught them ages ago.

But she had reached the Castle at the center of the Labyrinth. Wasn't that victory?

"Does this mean that I win?"

Her whisper echoed impossibly loud in the hall, her whisper coming back at her a hundred times, all louder than her voice could manage. The cacophony of words was loud, painful, and she gasped, the noise echoing like thunder in the darkness, almost driving her to her knees. Clutching her painful hands over hurting ears, she started to stagger rapidly across the hall. But her footsteps were like cannon fire, nearly deafening her. It took forever to creep mouse soft through the hall, and she wouldn't have been surprised if her ears had been bleeding.

She collapsed to the floor, her head pounding, hands agony, gasping for breath, for ease. The stone here was a dull gray again, flat flagstones over the floor. She just huddled there for a few moments, before allowing her eyes to follow the floor over to a staircase that lead up a wall… where it promptly turned sideways. Her eyes got wider as she looked over the expanse of the huge cubical space. Staircases moved at all angles, going up from the floor, out from walls, even down from the ceiling…

Vertigo took hold, and she swayed, rocking slowly on the floor. "No. This room is impossible, nobody could walk on those… it's not real, can't be real…"

A fat goblin in something almost like a suit opened a door and walked along a staircase that emerged from a wall, exiting through an opening near but not quite at the level of the floor. He seemed entirely unaware that he'd just walked on the wall, that gravity should have had him crashing downwards… Or did gravity change here as well?

She wasn't certain how long she sat there, rocking back and forth in an effort to make sense of the impossible room. She'd seen other goblins pass through the space, one even on the ceiling, apparently unaware that his feet were in the direction that should be up. Perhaps she would have sat there ignored and frightened forever.

But then Amy heard the sound of a baby wailing, the sound of a baby that was afraid and didn't know anybody around. Then, another baby joined in, and she heard the sound of goblin laughter. Slowly, she found herself moving towards the crying, confident that the King of the Goblins would be there.

She walked through another arched doorway, looking at the throne room. Goblins scurried over the floor, and a group of unhappy babies were sitting in the corner, some crying while others sucked almost contentedly at bottles. Somehow, the bottles seemed almost worse than the ones that were wailing. The Goblin King was sprawled over a throne of pale stone, his purple cloak spread behind him. A collection of crystal spheres circled to his left, as if an invisible juggler performed for his amusement.

"There you are, Amy. So glad that you could join us." His voice was somehow more terrifying than she'd remembered.

"I…" Her voice squeaked, a most frightened noise. "I want to go home."

Several of the gathered goblins sniggered, their eyes small and dark and cruel, their yellow teeth gleaming in the firelight. "Home…." Harsh whispers rose, goblin voices mocking her. "She thinks she can leave."

Jareth looked over at them, a small frown on his face. "Do shut up."

He turned his attention back to Amy. "I'm afraid that's rather against the rules now. You ate of the fruit of the Goblin Kingdom, gave of your blood to this land. You've bound yourself here with magic far older than the parlor tricks that you practiced back in Sunnydale. No, Amy, this will be your home now. But you don't have to be a goblin. I can enable the magic of this realm to change you, to give you a new shape instead of allowing you to become yet another goblin."

Amy felt like screaming, or maybe crying. The fruit… oh no, the fruit. How had she been so stupid? "I don't want to be a goblin. What… what would I become?"

Jareth's mocking smile seemed to probe at her fears. "That's not very predictable. Something shaped from the inner depths of your spirit, a reflection of your personality and nature. Maybe something monstrous, maybe something harmless. It's really quite a gamble. I'll leave the choice up to you."

End part 14.