La Croix's Labyrinth

by lindencovenant

Rating is purely for safety. La Croix of Forever Knight tries to cut a deal with Jareth.

Author's note- I am not the originator of the concept of these characters, however, the manner in which they are portrayed and their situation does come from me. My thoughts are the actors in the roles created by another. None of this is meant for infringement or mockery of the original. In the question of is fan fic fraud or flattery, neither. It is what it is. No money changes hands. Savvy?

On the dark side of the glass I'm the outsider I'm the outsider

Jannette's tired gaze swept the room filled with outsiders. If everyone was an outsider, would that make insiders outsiders? Would this be the night Nicholai returned to the family?

She could understand him and his staying away, ironically, thanks to him. When he'd woken to find that LaCroix had not killed him just conked him in the head with that stake hard enough so that in his weakened condition, Nick was knocked senseless- more senseless, Nicholai had been angry, more so than she'd seen him in the eight hundred years that they had known one another.

Much as she had been towards Nick Knight himself when despite her cry of no, he'd brought her back across to save her from the fire. When he'd done that, she had run away again, not returning until LaCroix called her to help with the situation. So much help she'd been, ha. Granted, she was a better night club owner than LaCroix, but she had not been able to get through to Nick. Nor had Vachon, newly awakened from the healing coma he'd forced the late Detective Vetter to place him in. The silly woman thought she'd killed him, but that had been the only way he could get through the Divia inflicted wounds, but he'd been too out of his mind to explain.

"Nick here yet?" Javier asked, plunking down on the barstool in the second incarnation of Raven.

"I'm beginning to doubt he'll ever come home, mon ami. "

"Nah. If he really wanted to get away from us, he'd leave town. He's just sulking- he got real good at that in the year you took off from being undead," Vachon shrugged.

"How long can one man sulk?" she spat.

"Not sure, but I think he does it on behalf of a few that don't have time to sulk, so factor that in. Beer?"

Jannette shuddered. Mixing beer and blood was barbaric, but Vachon insisted on the mix.

"Why can't he be more like you and just get over things?" she asked rhetorically as she handed him the opaque mug.

"There's just one me." Vachon turned to look at the crowd. "New blood here tonight."

"Where?" Janette asked, mentally cursing because even though she was over a thousand, her powers were stunted to fledgling level thanks to that year off. She had to rely on Vachon, a man less than half her age, too often.

His head jerked in a direction. "See, girl over there, back corner table. Sad eyes. Looks lost."

"One of us?"

His brows lifted in a 'can't you tell?' query, but didn't push the point to the point of expression aloud. "Don't think so, not physically."

"Vous?"

"Jannette, no comprehende' French. Spanish. Or just American."

"What do you mean physically?"

"All that in one word? She's not a " he looked around before saying it, "vampire. But she is - adrift."

"We don't have the lock on being that way, ma chere."

She studied the girl, now that she'd located her. "Keep an eye on her, Javier. "

He nodded. "Wine cooler, straight."

She sighed. "Javier, this I know," and handed him a plain bottle, only fruit and wine in it, no blood.

"Habit," he tossed her way, making his way to the back table before one of the more predatory of his kin spotted the child and took advantage. Under one of his family's protection, none of the vamps around would go near her, no matter how attractive a target.

He set the cool bottle down in front of her.

"I hadn't ordered yet," she protested.

"On the house. I saw you come in- and let me tell you something little girl, this is no place to come looking like you do."

The girl looked down. "I- what's wrong with "

"Your clothes are fine. Nothing's showing, but the vibes you give off, little one, are not healthy here."

"Stop calling me little one and little girl. I don't even know you," she snapped angrily.

"No, you don't. Forgive me. But this place is full of predators looking for deer in the headlights- you. I've been around long enough to know a potential victim a mile away."

"You don't look that old, and I still don't know who you are- or if you're one of those predators."

"Javier Vachon, and I'm not what I seem, but at the moment, I'm not hunting." Her brows lifted, but she just stared back at him. "This is your cue to say I'm - so and so," he prompted.

"I'm so and so."

"Good, you do have a sense of humor. Not sure with those sad eyes of yours. Come on , your real name or I'll rename you. Gertrude? Natalia? Ursula?" The last two names sent a sharp stab through his heart, reminding him to keep his focus.

"Sarah," she allowed grudgingly.

"See, that was easy. I promise, around beautiful senoritas, I'm harmless."

Sarah blinked in the darkness. "Senorita?"

"I'm from Spain, once upon a time, then I hitched a ride to the new world with the conquistadors." He grinned, making his revelation seem like a joke.

"Right. And I came from the underhills with the elves and so on." The words were dry, delivered much as his had been.

"Seriously, I am from Spain- maybe you can tell from the name. We're very international here. Janette, the boss lady, is from France. The main boss is from Italy, Mr. Lucien. And if he will ever show up, Nick is from Wales, bet you haven't met many folks from Wales."

"And who is Nick?"

"We'll let you know if he ever figures it out." Vachon's smile dimmed. "But he can out sad you even which leads me to, why are you so sad?"

"It's a long story."

"Tell me about it, long as you're done by dawn, I'm good."

"By dawn? What are you - a vampire?"

Vachon choked on his beer, looking at her anxiously to see if she meant it. "What makes you (cough ) say that?"

"Dawn? Don't all good vampires have to be in their coffins by daylight?"

"Bad ones too," he muttered. "Yeah, haha. That's the story I hear, never much went in for old wives tales. Young wives- that's another story."

"I'll bet, but my story is boring."

A voice cut in, overriding their conversation.

"Welcome, my children. The Nightcrawler has returned. Welcome to the lost, to the lonely. The moon is high. Leave your broken hearts on the ground to sail among the stars. Tears in the moonlight like stars glitter but they blind your eyes. Your cruel eyes that search in the darkness and in the light. Do you seek the truth, my child. Are you ready for it, for it is as cruel as you are."

Then the song began, Naked Eyes, with its haunting, enigmatic questions.

Sarah shivered, cold from the evocative words.

"Lucien Lacroix, the Nightcrawler, resident dj/ghoul," Vachon toasted in the direction of the dj booth. "The boss who makes the godfather look like a happy shiny person."

"I hope his intent was to scare everyone," Sarah mumbled. "Did a good job of it."

"Yeah. I'd say I don't get why we get any repeat business with him spooking everyone, but maybe he hypnotizes us all."

Sarah would have to admit, his voice was mesmerizing. She saw a shadow, a man make his way through the crowd, not especially purporsefully, but with an air that cut through the milling sea letting him part the waves of bodies to reach the bar. Vachon followed her gaze.

"The General himself."

"General?"

"Nightcrawler."

"How many names does he have?"

He considered a moment. "Think I've exhausted the ones I can say around ladies."

Janette looked up, nodding towards the music's direction as her sire approached. "Your music is going to scare off my customers, ma chere." The Gift in particular was known to freak out mortals.

"I like The Experience," he stated, making it reason enough. "We support our own kind."

"The band is vampire?"

"Oui."

"Very well then, but if it loses customers for you to play that music..."

"You've enough money to buy this city, chere femme."

"But that is not why I run this club."

He silently considered the crowd. "Who is Vachon chatting up?"

Janette shrugged elegantly. "Just a girl." His eyes prompted her to continue with the full story, no less would satisfy. "Her eyes screamed at me. Leaving her out there alone would beckon our less savory clientele. "

"Her eyes?"

"Look, have you seen such desolate ones?"

La Croix looked back. "No..at least not since Nicholas decided to shun us." The way he said shun took on almost religious implications. Like excommunicate might be said.

"Nicholai's eyes are not sad," Janette said, sipping her bloody chardonay. "They are betrayed."

"Ever the hypocrit," LaCroix agreed, glancing at his former childe. "Nothing did I more to him than he to you - but then, Nicholas has never comprehended the phrase, it's not about me when it applies to him." Another sip. "I think the girl is a resistor."

"What makes you say that?"

"I find her attractive- but not in terms of appetite."

Janette nodded. Only two other women had so called to her master, Natalie Lambert, rest her soul, and Nicholai's own sister, Fleur, of whom he still would not speak. Both had been invulnerable to his power.

"Let her be, LaCroix."

He started to argue, then stopped. "As you wish." Then cocked his head curiously. "Why?"

Janette looked back to where her conquistador was entertaining. "Honestly, ma chere, I do not know why, but I do know."

"I bow to your instincts." His nostrils flared. "Death is in the air tonight, Janette."

"So melodramatic."

"Perhaps, but humans, and non, give off scents of emotions. When last the air held this scent, Nicholas was contemplating his own end, and Natalie's. "

"Someone here is going to kill themselves and this music you play?"

"If all it takes is a song to push them to the edge and over, then it will be any song." At her look of sheer violence, he went on, "But it has been sometime since I utilized one of my favorite monolouges. Perhaps it is time."

"Like that one worked when you last used it?"

"Tsk, tsk Janette. "

Easily, he rose and returned to the mike. "Ah my children, I feel your despair utterly crying out to me. But never fear, I have words to soothe you to calm your fears and but let me say this to your troubled souls. Life is a gift, as sweet as a ripe peach, as precious as a gilded jewel. I have never been able to understand the logic of willfully surrendering such a treasure. And what is there to gain? How dark can your existence be when compared to an eternal void? Unless, of course, you have faith that there is something beyond.
What do you see from where you stand? A bright light at the end of the tunnel? Is it a ray of hope? A glimmer of something better? Or will it burn you like the rising sun? Is that sound you're hearing the trumpeting of St. Peter's angels or the screams of Memnoch's tortured souls?
You can't answer that, can you? Because you will never know the answer, until after the deed is done. And is your faith really that strong?
I understand the need to move on. It is something that happens to us all, and your time has truly come. I also understand that with the beauty of this life, there comes pain and despair. No one is immune. But consider what you have in your hands before you give it up. Don't trade a treasure for an empty box.

Love. It warps our senses, twists our souls...can take us past hope, past cure, past help. I know about love: it's suffering, it's anguish, it's pain. Heaven makes means to kill our joy with love. And yet we must have it, at any cost. But are you so enamored that you'll overlook your love of life? And you do love it. I've seen you smell the sea, gaze at the stars at night. Are you willing to sacrifice one mistress for another? Look into your heart and tell me that you're willing to make the choice. " Then he began playing Evanescence before strolling back to his drink.

"Happy?"

Janette did not deign to answer.

In her back corner, Sarah had paused in her conversation, caught from the first line. "Vachon," she said as it ended, "what the hell was that about?"

"Don't ask me- the boss gets weird - from time to time, as in twenty four seven. " He stared into the darkness. "Never been able to understand someone without faith of some kind, querida. "

Sarah was not sure what to say to this unexpected statement, shied off by saying, "I guess he's been hurt by love."

"Who hasn't, cara? But yeah, the general loved once, long, long ago. Loved her and left her because he loved her. Sad, sadder still how bitter it made him."

"I hear you."

Vachon grinned suddenly. "You- who has broken your heart? I'll put a stake through it for you."

"He's too far away," she admitted before thinking. "Not sure he has one to stake through either. But - I was the one who left."

Vachon twirled his glass, again. "Well, I've heard the general say, very snidely, to love someone is to leave them, or some bs like that. What do you do to live?"

Sarah blinked, not sure where that had come from. "Acting," she finally said. "Revival of Picnic at the moment."

Vachon nodded, then surprised her by guessing, "You're Madge right? The pretty one."

"What if I said I was Millie?"

"I'd think whoever got Madge is sleeping with the director or knows who he killed. "

"I'm Madge."

"Well, are you or do you?"

"What?"

He just looked innocent, more so than should be possible.

"No to both counts, " she said, catching on.

"Good."

"But one scene is giving me fits."

"Which one?''

"The dance one," she said ruefully.

"The main scene at that. What's wrong with it?"

"I know how a dance should go, and it's just not gelling. And how do you know an antiquated play?"

"Late night TCM Kim Novak birthday marathon and insomina." Actually he'd seen it in the theatre and been tempted to go to Hollywood and turn Ms. Novak, but that was another time. Vachon took a swig of beer. "Don't think you'll manage to get inspired about that kind of dance here."

"No, not likely, but that's not why I'm here."

"Why are you?"

"Why does anyone come to a place like this?" she retorted.

"Many less than nice reasons- so again, why?"

Sarah looked away. "Just to get away from me for a night."

Her answer made Vachon glad he'd decided to keep an eye on her.

But the young looking Spaniard wondered if she would be the cause of division in their family. She had not seen it, but he could feel La Croix's eyes on them time and again.

It didn't really surprise him when the general approached.

"Vachon."

He looked up, "Yeah?"

"Isn't it time for you to go off duty?"

"No, not really."

"Vachon."

For a second, the younger vampire considered rebellion, but that moment was sliced through with the words, "Do not defy me, Vachon."

No, it would not be a good plan. Five hundred years was young comparitively. He rose, snagging his beer, then nodded to Sarah before taking off.

La Croix made Sarah edgy; he was charming, enough, in a strange way, very strange. She almost felt as if her mind was being probed. It made her head hurt.

"Are you in pain?"

"Just a bit of a headache."

"Ah." He locked eyes on her. "Perhaps I can help." His voice seemed double layered, undercut by an echo of itself.

Sarah backed away from him until her shoulders hit the chair behind her. "I- I just need an asperin or ibuprofen. " Blast her shaking voice.

Her answer had an unusual affect, a satisfied smile ghosted over his face, gone before she could question it, so was the pain.

"Fascinating," he whispered to himself. "You have powerful friends, child. "

"What do you mean?"

He seemed amused now. "Ah now, you haven't earned my secrets, child, but then- I won't press for yours either. For the moment."

"I don't have any secrets."

"Then you are a unique woman- but that I already figured out. " He looked over his shoulder. "My daughter seems not pleased with me; she did not want us to speak. I'll move along then, for now. "

Sauntering back to Janette, he barely seated himself before she laid into him. "I told you- do not touch those I protect."

"I didn't- but I was unaware that your shield extended to nice girls these days."

It was an unfair jab- Janette had been protecting girls who had fallen into the life she had when she had one- that of a whore of some sort, for centuries. "When last I lived, I was nice too."

"So now the good girls can be protected without violating your principles, Touche. Fear not, daughter. I will not turn or taste her- she's protected by one far stronger than you." Or than himself, but he did not wish to go there, not yet.

But it was a good thing to know. A very good thing to know, and glad he was of his age that let him wake while the fledglings slept, but for now, work called as he quoted Dante and spun a new song - Surrender.

Vachon had returned to Janette's side. "What is the old man up to?"

"I wish I knew, mon ami. I wish I knew."

Javier drank some straight beer, then commented. "Sure about that?"

"For my own sake- non; for hers, oui. I just hope he's right. "

"He may not always be- but he's never wrong. About what?"

"She is protected by something- some One? Did you sense it?''

He shrugged. "Not too much- it was just kind of nice to talk to one of them that's not on the menu."

Janette poured two glasses of a fine Australian wine then lifted hers in toast, "To mortals. Long gone."

To Robert. To Tracy. To Natalie. And even to Schanke, that funny little, irritating man.

It was shortly before sunset before La Croix could find privacy to do what he needed to do. He had waited all night, hoping that his son would return, and he would not need to do what he was about to, but Nicholas was stubborn.

Waking before those he named his, the old general went to his workroom, a place forbidden to even Janette. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he used ancient Latin to say the words, hoping to give them some measure of dignity.

"I summon the Goblin King."

Nothing.

He tried again, using more elaborate phrases twice.

Then, still in his native language, "I wish the goblin king would come here right now."

"You still didn't get it right, but I'm a generous man." The elegant voice announced. "However, having seen your daughter, general, I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole- no- on second thought - I would, straight through the heart. Oh dear, you've already done that haven't you? If you expect me to reconstitute ashes, you're sadly mistaken. I have not that much power over life; and even had I, I would not use it on her. Dreadful child."

La Croix stiffly turned to face the man clad in a cloak of argent feathers and dressed in midnight. "Goblin King?"

"That is who you expected is it not?"

The vampire's scornful gaze raked over his guest. "I had expected someone more intimidating."

"I've grown bored with living up to the expectations of others. It's rather tiresome. "

"Yes, I've noticed that myself. Drink?"

"I do not share you taste in vintages, vampire."

"La Croix."

Jareth, the Goblin King shrugged, it did not matter to him. "What business do you have that calls me from my home?"

"I believe we can work out a business deal."

"I would not give even my most wretched subjects to you, Lucien. Even they deserve better."

"I've met a friend of yours, " La Croix went on as if he was deaf to any words but those he wished to hear. "A charming you woman, who reeks of your eldritch power. It took a bit of doing, but I discovered your ties to her." He'd spent much of the day calling in favors from those who knew of the Fey and other worlds. His efforts to keep one step ahead of Nicholas' quest for humanity had served him well, teaching him much lore that was of little value until now. He had learned what the Fey were, how to know those who had contact with that magic, and who would sell information about what happened in their world cheaply and accurately. Some minor Seelie were susceptible to baser prices, drugs that would give them a buzz reminiscent of the purer powers they were denied, and other things. A small packet of the most potent ectasy mixed with a bit of this and that, a brief feeding, and the information was his, albeit coming with a minor headache one incurred from sub human feeding.

"Who?" the word whipped out tautly; however , the Fey lord had some idea, he waited for a heartbeat of dread.

"Sarah Williams."

La Croix had made a judgement error, a rarity, but it happened. Before he knew what was happening, the old vampire was pinned to the wall. "If you have turned her, I swear on all that is ," Jareth chose his next word deliberately and carefully, "HOLY and sacred, you will pay in ways you have not even dreamed of."

La Croix was strong, but not as strong as the puissant king. His struggles only made the situation worse until Jareth found mercy in his heart and let him down. "Speak."

The Nightcrawler coughed. "You nearly crushed my windpipe."

"That is not what I want to hear."

A shuddering breath, then La Croix bit out, "She is unharmed, by any of mine. Since I have not seen her in many hours, she might have stubbed her toe since then, but she walks in daylight still." Apparently, the king did not realize he'd protected her, interesting. "I have no wish to turn her or harm her, yet." He eased into his chair.

Jareth waited for more, then said, "Go on."

La Croix rubbed his throat. "I admire the methods you used against her honestly. Using her own mind to attempt to betray her. Brilliant, hope you don't mind if I borrow your methods?"

Jareth made a dangerous noise that would have sent anyone else scurrying. "I have little faith that they would serve you, vampire."

"Perhaps, perhaps. But if you agree, then I won't need to."

"La Croix, I have less patience."

"Ah yes, I had heard that. " Now that he had some advantage, Lucien used it, toying with the king. "I have a son."

Jareth lifted a brow, but did not take the bait.

"One who once called me his oldest friend, but then, well, would you kill your own child? I thought not, and nor would I, though I can see that amazes you on - some level. Yet he hoped I would, and my refusal turned me into his nemesis. To be blunt, I want my son back, and in return, I will help you with Sarah."

"How do you know I even want her?" Jareth asked.

La Croix lifted his chin slightly, showing the bruises, he did not need to reveal his sources; treachery was not something he was fond of using.

"Point taken." Curse his temper. New century's resolution, control one's temper.

"May I continue?"

Jareth appeared to consider before agreeing with a curt nod.

"Very well- now then, I don't know how you let her slip through your fingers- or did your fingers not get close enough to slip? Mm?" He paused, playing the game. "But be that as it may, I can arrange for you to meet her, on neutral territory, and provide assistance in snaring her."

"She is not a bird to be caged. And I really don't see how you could help- vampire mind tricks are mere illusions, they would fade and I'd be left with an angry woman. "

"There are ways," La Croix evaded, not mentioning she was the first resistor he could not make any headwday at all with in his entire life. "Now, what I wish from you is to turn back time, as I understand it you can reorder time, and allow me to rescue one mortal from the past before she can meet an untimely end. Having Natalie Lambert restored to life would pacify my son."

Jareth stared at him a moment, then barked a laugh. "Is it PR or BS I've been a victim of once more- never can tell the two apart. I can not change time, anymore than I change people into monsters. I merely alter the perception of the way time passes. I can not help you, this Natalie lies in another world now, one that is on a one way journey. "

La Croix sneered. "Ah yes, the afer life. I'm surprised to find faith in your kind."

"It is not that surprising," Jareth commented. "My realm is not jaded to wonder, it's more surprising to find any in this land."

"Touche'. You can not reverse time?"

Jareth held out gloved hands. "No," but made no apologies for the fact.

La Croix fell back silently into his own dark thoughts, wrapped in their velvet soundproof chamber that did not allow another sound to penetrate his awareness. Thus - he did not hear another prescence pause at his door, but the Goblin King, used to intrigues and spies, automatically sensed another outside. With the lightest mental exertion possible, he brushed a feather of thought across the watcher's mind. Satisfied with what he found, he sent a spark of a message to them, barely a ripple, but enough. He hoped.

Rising, the king called La Croix's attention back to himself. "If there is nothing else- I have better occupations to use my time." Glitter marked his passing, but he did not go far. However, his next stop was only momentary, snagging a passenger then reappearing in a crystal room between worlds.

Janette blinked. "Where am I? What have you done? Who are you?"

"I am the king of the Fey, this is an antechamber between worlds, and I brought you here because I sensed you outside that other vampire's room, and your concern for a certain young lady."

"Yes- and for Nicholai. He wishes a life away from his master, and I have ever protected him."

"You love Nicholas- Nicholai?"

"Oui, yes."

Her smile was sad. "To have him back - nothing would make me happier, unless..."

"I can not return the dead."

"This I know. But my son- no, not a vampire, I never brought another across, Robert's son was mine by bonds of heart, not blood. I miss Patrick, but he thinks me dead, and it is best he not be brought near this life."

"I see."

"But even loving Nicholai- I will not allow La Croix to use an innocent."

"I would never harm Sarah."

"Then why does she fear you?"

"It is complicated, things happened too fast, I think, and she was blinded by myths and her own expectations. The truth would - to borrow a phrase, set us both free."

Janette was quick to decide as ever. "Then, allow me to do what I can for you, for her."

"Even at risk of -"

"I have died at least twice- what is one more- but La Croix is not my sire, not anymore. I have a certain tie to him, but Nicholai turned me, most recently- my thoughts are my own, and my loyalties." She laughed a bit, not altogether humorously. "or perhaps they are Nicholai's, he was ever the defender of those who need it. And ever defiant of Lucien. Perhaps I am merely doing what Nicholai would?"

"Perhaps. But nonetheless, this general of yours says that Sarah is unable to be coereced.."

"And I would not do so- even when I was La Croix's creature, - I began life as a woman of twelve centuries past, and the lure of becoming this was to help women who lived under the will of those who would abuse them, even lightly. No, all I can do is bring her to a place you can meet her, and it is up to you from there. But ask I must, why do you need La Croix or myself?"

"Because she banished me in a fit of youthful defiance. In stating I had no power over her, only by invitation may I enter her home."

"Well, at least some fairytales are true, even if misapplied. Mortals think we must be invited in- I think an overly polite vampire must have been loose once upon a time." She paused, "How much of my story do you already know?"

"Only what your general spoke of , then of course, what you have said. I have not read your mind or his," this last was said with a subtle hint of distaste.

"Can you read mine- it would be easier than covering a few centuries of history?"

"If you allow, yes. Forcible mind entry is not something I care for."

This reassured her for the sake of the girl, for many reasons.

But he stopped before drawing her memories into a crystal. "What of my story with Sarah do you comprehend?"

"Even less- you may tell me or one drop of blood would tell me all?" her voice held a teasing, almost seductive air, by habit more than desire.

"I wonder what else it would tell you," he noted drylly, seeing the confirmation in her eyes. "Ah, I have no desire for you to see my past laid before you naked."

She shrugged. "It would fade and I would recall none of it in a few hours. "

"But if I tell you, then you can recall it. So, allow me to do so. Sarah, at fifteen wished for her brother to be taken - by the goblins," he laughed at some private joke. "So I took him."

"I thought goblins were more repulsive."

"So did she, and she really did not think it would happen, so when I came, she wanted to renege on the deal, but what is said is said, she had to know that, and I allowed her 13 hours to complete my labyrinth or the boy would belong to me for all time's run. She accepted the challenge, that alone marked her as special. So she went through , following the script of an antiquated book, living out her fantasy of being a brave heroine. Oh, I did interfere a bit, I let her have a moment of truth, seeing into her real dreams and into reality. That did not stop her either. So we met on the parapet of the castle, and she yet defied me, declaring I had no power over her, ending the dream. "

Jannette percieved there was a bit more to it, but let it go. "And you fell for her in only thirteen hours." Her tone was skeptical.

"No, I had looked on her for longer than that, and have since, but those six infernal words keep me from going to her without some key or invitation."

"Too bad there are not six words poor Nicky could use on La Croix. Still I percieve your truth - you are not so distant from human that you can lie to me. I will help you as I said. Tomorrow night is La Croix's night off, he will hunt until dawn. Given his fascination, I would urge Vachon to bring her to the club in any event where I can know she is not prey. You will be there as well."

Jareth chuckled to himself at her tyranical tone. "A club? What sort of club?"

"Just a music and dance place, a haven of sorts for the lost and lonely."

He nodded. "Do you ever have guest singers?"

"Oui, yes, from time to time. Only on Lucien's nights off, he- his taste in music, it is beautiful and terrible both, sad to the point of death. If no one commits suicide from listening, amazed I will be."

"Would you allow me to provide some music?"

"What of Sarah?"

"It will further my cause, I trust."

"Then, yes. As it does not depress or speak of death. I need a night off from that."

"So shall it be- now who is Vachon? Does Sarah-"

"Love him, non. When she entered, something in her reminded me of Nicholai, a lost soul. My Raven is not a place for those who are too lost, it turns them into targets. Vachon was assigned to protect her, but even he can not stand against La Croix's will. I have a thousand years to bank upon, he does not. Besides, if La Croix hurt me, Nicholai would never forgive him. "

"Then, until tomorrow night, milady."

In a flash of glitter, Janette found herself back in the club, alone. She looked around, then went in search of Vachon. But only two steps later, she cursed to herself in French, "Idiot- you don't even know if he can sing." But if her guests endured La Croix's melancholy musings, then - this had to be better.

Sarah was just coming in when the phone rang. "Senorita Sarah?"

"Uh- who's this?" the voice was familiar, but who was it?

"Javier Vachon- I'm so hurt you don't remember maybe I shouldn't even ask what I want to." But she heard the teasing in his voice.

"Phones kind of mess up voices, and how'd you get my number?"

"White pages. You are the fifth Sarah Williams I've called, so I hope you are the right one. You were at the Raven last night, yes?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"Then, how about coming back tomorrow night, the general is off, and the music will be much less grim, promise, boyscout's honor."

Sarah thought a moment, then decided, "Why not, I'll be there."

"No, now, what kind of person would I be to invite you and not pick you up? Dress casual, and wear a pony tail."

"Why?"

"Skirts and elaborate hairdos don't go with Harleys."

" A motor cycle?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No I've just never, "

"Time you did. See ya then." He hung up, turning to Janette as he did. "Done- now what does this goblin dude look like?"

Taking a bit of hair in her fingers to twirl, Janette mused aloud, "Tall, but not so much, not short. Pale, not as much as us though. Blonde - wild blonde hair.."

"Think I'd look good blonde?"

Janette blinked, distracted. "Whatever would you do that for?" Picturing Vachon blonde non non non!

"If all the signs are right- Sarah's been mooning over this goblin, and he's blonde. You and Natalie both were nuts over Nick- blonde again. Might improve my luck if I -"

"No- out of the question. Tracy liked you as you are, as did Urse."

"Yeah, real good luck with that, every girl I fall for- dead, in more ways than one."

"Vachon- "

"Go on, tell me more about what's his name."

"Not much more to say," she shrugged Gallically. "Only--"

"Yeah?"

"His eyes. Wilder than his hair, mysterious though, and they are of two shades. Vachon, it is not his hair, certainly not that, that draws Sarah. And as to Nicholai- he is no handsomer than you. He is ..." she searched for a word, but all she had was, "himself."

"And I do not want to be him," Vachon concluded.

"No, don't be him." She kissed him, but it lacked passion. "And perhaps were he here, I would not wish him to be."

"Now that makes sense."

"What does?" La Croix had slipped up silently, but Janette had felt him coming.

"To order more red wine," she extemporized. "Since white does not serve our purposes well."

"Janette, I know you are lying," the words were mild, but held a threat.

"Vachon wanted to dye his beautiful hair, and I told him that I would never forgive that."

"And why does that make sense?" still a threat.

"Because it'd look stupid, I was just teasing her, " Vachon said, taking a swig of straight blood.

"A poor joke. Remind me that if we should ever have a comedy night to not have you onstage," La Croix intoned deadpan.

"I guess you just needed to be there," Vachon mumbled, faking disappointment.

"Be kind, La Croix, I was attempting to cheer him- it's the- anneversary of an important date he had with Detective Vetter," Janette scolded.

"I see- and what was that?"

"I never kiss and tell the details," he popped off, rising. "I'll go get that order for you now that it's dark enough, Jan."

"Janette, how often must I tell you , never Jan never Janet. "

"Ta."

La Croix fixed Janette with a cool stare. "Now the truth, Janette."

"It's nothing you want to hear," she snapped bitterly.

His hand darted out, catching her chin in strong fingers. "Tsk, tsk, Janette. When I ask, I want an answer. How often must I teach you that?"

"Patrick," she spit at him. "Vachon and I were mourning our lost ones- Tracy, Robert, and Patrick. Urse. Nicholai. Happy? Should I add Divia to the list? Or Fleur?"

He released her. "Do NOT speak of her. Never speak of her."

Which her? Janette wondered as she watched him leave. Even as angry with him as she was, it sorrowed her that she had used a dull knife to make a sharp cut in his heart.

In another place out of time, Jareth's emotions were wild as his hair. Soon, it was so soon, and so far away, like Christmas. At the same time, the desire to know who had revealed his secrets, even their slightest shade to the vampire, burned. True, their betrayal served him this time, but in times to come, perhaps it would not. As a king, he could not reward beneficial betrayal. Was Judas still not counted traitor though his treachery was necessary?

Spying was not his forte'. Someone as distinct as he found it awkward to be less so; unique was just who he was, from his startling appearance to turn of phrase. Both a source of pride and a handicap, at the moment it was more of the latter.

It would be virtually impossible to go quietly among the dregs and get a truthful answer. Being king lent itself to getting answers one wanted - whether or not they were true at the moment of asking.

"My Liege?"

Jareth looked up from perusing his wardrobe to see who dared disturb his private chambers.

"Tiaran," he acknowledged his right hand advisor.

"Might I ask what has disturbed my king?" the man asked.

"Yes, whether or not you will find an answer remains to be seen."

"Yes, milord."

Jareth look irritated as he slammed the wardrobe doors shut. He'd have to magick an outfit, not one of his current ones suited the occassion.

"I need two things- one- a decent aboveground outfit. Something suitable for a night at a club. Two, I need to know who has been telling tales out of turn."

"In which respect, sire? Gossip runs amok at any time, depending on the way the wind is blowing, determines what story you will hear. Lord Rivan is rumored to have married the wrong twin, and is only now discovering it after five decades. Then of course, their is the current betting on the odds regarding a queen for the Underground. None of the oddsmakers can get a good enough handle on who might it be to really give fair bets."

Jareth tossed his aide de camp a coin. "Place the bet on none of the above- I guarantee you a fortune enough to retire within a year, if I'm lucky," his last words were muttered.

"Sire- if my service is displeasing.."

"No... not that," Jareth waved him off, "your retirement isn't my luck, your win is. Long story, only for the ears of kings, " he sincerely liked that excuse, it was so all purpose. "However, someone has been telling their own version of it to the aboveground, and I wish to know who. If it was nothing more than an inept, unmagicked junkie repeating rumors, that's one thing, but if it was deliberate betrayal..." he trailed off to leave imagination to make worse details than he could. "This is not a job for one such as I, however."

"Indeed, sire," Tirian agreed. "You wish someone more circumspect, less threatening."

"Precisely."

"It will be attended to."

"Excellent."

"And what manner of club, sire? There are varieties."

"One run by a vampire- " he stopped at Tirian's shudder. "This one - one of them"

"How many of those things are you dealing with?" the vassal asked, forgetting professional detachment.

"Two- at least. One is fairly human though- it is the other which troubles me. La croix."

"The cross? Odd for a vampire."

Jareth shrugged. "Just find out who informed him."

Tirian nodded. "If you can't be more specific on type of club- or at least what type of vampire- there are several you know- then I would suggest a glamor. Everyone will see much what they expect."

"I know what a glamor is," he snapped back testily. "And I do know it's not Nofestrau- but few others are distinct. Souled variant, I think, judging by his minion in any case."

"Glamor's safe then. Only someone who has a bond to you will see through it."

"Again- I know that."

"It's my job to remind you."

Jareth sighed "Go place your bloody bet and find my information." Watching his loyalest servant and friend depart, an inspiration hit him, forcing him to contact the more humane of the vampires.

Javier and Sarah would be there soon, and if this argument did not end soon, Janette would give up on her resolve to not drink human vintages- or since her opponent was not human- would it count?

"You have me set this up and then non- nothing. You just wish to - " a long streak of curse words some out of date, exploded.

"Yes, that is all, for tonight, but as I understand, a week from now is an event- there will my move be made, openly. Tonight is just a match that she won't know she's playing."

Janette whirled on the king, sitting placidly in her office. "Don't mess with me," she warned. Last time she had used that line, it had worked, but Jareth was not a new vampire with a cocky attitude.

"I'm not, but that night offers possibilities that this one does not. What- can't your friend convince her to return?"

"I can not guarantee it," she admitted reluctantly. "Sarah is what is known as a resistor- impervious to most vampire powers. Older, extremely powerful ones of us can get around that, but it is rare. I-" she broke off, almost adding what she should not.

"What?" he had noticed.

"It is nothing to concern yourself."

"Let me determine that."

She sighed deeply. "Resistors are most attractive to vampires. Vachon is no worry. He - power is no lure to Vachon. Being a Master holds little appeal to him, it carries much responsibility."

"But others would find her attractive in a dangerous sense." It was not a question.

"Oui."

"La Croix."

"Oui."

Jareth scowled.

"However, there is a power to her that defies him, beyond most resistors. Tarry not long, Goblin King, and she will be safe."

Jareth nodded, then glanced at his attire. "Is this appropriate?"

"Enough. There are few standards here. But - tell me, will you approach her or not?"

"I think - I will decide later."

Despite her misgivings, Sarah found herself enjoying the night. Her escort was technically on duty, and since she was not under a threat in La Croix's absence, Vachon felt safe leaving her be. The fledglings had already been warned off her, and few knew that Janette was less than she had been, so her word still was law to them.

The music was a different quality that night. It held little of the haunting, threatening despair that La Croix played, nor did it have the air of death shooting at the dancers' heels that the former Raven incarnation had been noted for playing. It reminded Sarah of something... Her eyes sought the dj booth, but she could not see inside, see who was spinning disks.

Who was inviting her to dance... the music called to her, but her escort was occupied in another fashion, patrolling the perimeter of the club, watching for problems. Sarah might be safe from vampiric attention thanks to whatever power cloaked her, but other patrons were not so shielded, and the young ones could get sick of drinking cow blood. He could sympathize, but that was just tough. Modern life had too many ways to get caught, the risk was not worth it. And no one wanted the Enforcers raining down on them.

But Sarah did not know this, she just knew that she wanted to be part of it. After a few surveying looks, she decided no one was really dancing with anyone, so she could dance by herself or with everyone, it was pretty much the same thing.

Watching eyes saw her move, noted that fact with approval.

The crowd embraced her, yet held her apart from itself. Voices surrounded her, blending into themselves and the music, yet, here and there, one voice would prick her ears. A familiar stranger's conversation with no one floated past her now and then, but when she turned to see whose it was, no one looked familar, but turning away, she'd see a flicker. A flash of blue, a light touching someone's hair that looked like... someone it could not be from a half remembered dream.

When next she got a hint of his profile, she began moving through the dancers, towards him, feeling deja vu pressing closer than the bodies all around her. Mental flashes reminded her of a more genteele search she had made that was so much like this.

When she reached the spot that she thought someone was, the people there were nothing like who she was looking for. With an apologetic smile that was not even seen, she turned away, almost bumping into Vachon.

"Sorry to have left you alone. I can take a break now, for a few minutes. "

So she allowed him to dance with her, hoping the flashing lights and darkness gave her a mask, and if Vachon's senses were limited to what he could see with human eyes, she would have been safe. Even if Vachon had never come to Toronto and been changed by his encounters with Tracy, the Inca, Nicholas Knight, even Divia, she might have been. But he was more than human and less self absorbed now. So he could see the results of her search on her face. The ghostly tears she didn't know had fallen. The disappointed shadow behind her eyes. It hurt his pride a bit, and he wished Janette would tell him more about all this, but he doubted she knew much more than he did. And had to admit that if he'd seen Tracy or Urse - or someone who looked like them, in the shadows and miasma of light, he'd have been plowing through the crowd, and not do as well hiding his feelings when he was denied. His visual search of the room missed who Sarah was searching for.

But soon, it was time to get her home, so a second ride through the darkened streets accomplished that. At her door, Vachon put Janette's orders into his own words.

"Say, you know it's almost Halloween, and the Raven is kind of known for it's All Saint's Eve bash. Ah- I know you don't want to hear the Nightcrawler rambling the danse macabre, but no fear- La Croix hates Halloween with a passion. It is trite, a cliche', dated, and crass, and that's when he's being positive. He'll be holed up in his lair, scaring trick or treaters." Actually, charming their socks off and taking advantage of delivered take out, but no need to tell her that.

"Come on, it'll be fun." He put a bit of vampiric thrust in his voice, hoping she might be tired enough for the suggestion to take.

Whether he did or if he'd just convinced her on his own, Sarah agreed, "I guess I'll go find a biker chick outfit- that's the only costume that'll hold up well on your Harley."

"Au contrairy," he mocked Janette in absentia. "A suitable costume will await you at the Raven."

"Don't- I don't want to be a both-"

"No, I've already had arrangements made." It was not too much of a lie.

That stopped her. "You are a very confident soul aren't you?"

Javier Vachon grinned. "I have been told that- once or twice."

"Well, what can I say, if you've gone to trouble already, I have to show up."

"Precisely." He stared at her, and she wondered if he was going for a kiss, but he turned away with a tossed good night over his shoulder. She watched him vanish. There was no attraction, though she enjoyed his company, really. She felt compassion, not passion for him. The hurt inside the young man was almost an open wound that she could see. She glanced up at the stars as a cool breeze swirled around her, icy fingers pressing a word of warning against her flesh. An owl was watching her. Was it who it could not be?

Seeing General Lucien staring at you was not a sight to wake up to happily. Vachon was not even sure he was awake as the sun set, rousing him. Maybe he was still having a nightmare. Yeah, that made sense. It was a nightmare, next up, roll the drums, Divia. He waited.

Nope, the Nightcrawler was still staring down at him. So he finally asked, in Spanish to be perverse, "What do you want?"

"You were with Sarah last night."

It was a statement, but needed clarification. "Not with her, with her, not that way. A dance or two, on my break. Just that. She might've stepped on my foot."

"I find lies tiresome, Vachon."

"Yeah, well.. " there was a thing or two he found tiresome. "I picked her up on my bike, that kind of necessitates close quarters."

"I see. Did you have a nice chat?"

"Most humans can't talk well on a bike, and if you haven't noticed, it's really loud in the Raven."

La Croix ignored him. "Would you say- or call her a damsel in distress?"

"Say what? Have you bitten an addict- they can really give you a few loops de loop in the head."

"Just answer, boy."

Vachon's lips thinned. "Nope,'' he snapped. "I'd get ridden out of town on a rail if I was so - male chauvanistic piggish these days. Damsel in distress is really not pc you know."

"If it were another time, would you?" La Croix pressed.

"I don't know who she'd be in another time- times make people who they are, you ought to know that."

La Croix was silent, perhaps the interview was done, but then he continued. "I find that people are people, times just shape their way of expressing their humanity. Imagine if Casear's court took place today- perhaps you are too young for such imaginings," he laughed darkly. "Tell me then, would young chevalier rush to defend her?"

"Chevaliar?" Vachon blinked. "Who?"

"Nicholas de Brabant, Chevaliar is a variant of knight, his favored human name. " La Croix was sounding impatient by now.

"How should I know- we weren't exactly buddies, just ran into each other from time to time. Ask Janette."

"Yes, that is a better idea, except.." La Croix trailed off, not saying aloud, she knows me too well.

So instead he asked, "If she were in trouble.."

"Janette?"

"Sarah, you imbecile, would you rush to her defense?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Thank you, Vachon. Best grab a pint before the rush begins." He drifted out on that note, leaving Vachon to feel as if he'd seriously screwed up.

In the lowest possible whisper, when he felt his master far enough away, he hissed, "Yo, king. Watch her back."

A sentiment Janette would concur with when she rose to find La Croix pouring over dusty tomes. "What do you read, " she began tensely, "mon ami?"

"Nothing that would interest you - no one takes their shirt off to pose for the cover, Janette."

She sniffed. "Be polite, it will be good practice. Please, what are you reading?"

"Lore, one of the books I acquired before Nicholas."

"Thinking of turning human?"

"Hardly. No, I seek a way to break a spell."

"A spell?" she tried, failing, to keep the scorn from her voice.

"Yes. A Fey geis."

"I didn't know you believed in such things," Janette went for a light tone.

"Hmm. Well, let us say I have seen a bit more in the last few--years."

"And what will this breaking do?"

"Don't worry your pretty head about that. Just thinking that our family is so small now."

Janette's blood ran cold.

And she wished for Nicholai's brave, foolish courage to live in her.

La Croix did see the flash of something in her eyes. He allowed himself a smile that she could not detect.

Dead Man's Hand

Guilt. G U I L T, not G I L T; however like the latter, the former lends a certain decoration to the life of the self centric soul. Wallowing in self imposed despair, exiled from the comforts of life. Easier to hurt yourself than risk the pain inflicted by others. Oh, it's not about me you protest. But isn't it. It's always about you. Guilt is selfishness repackaged, indulging in pain over pleasure, freed from the responsibility of choice, because you can not be trusted. Yet, you crave the reassurance that you turn from to hang onto that gilded guilt. Why punish yourself, when I am only too happy to?

On that morbid note, Stephen Clay began singing Give It to Me.

Vachon leaned over to Janette. "Am I being paranoid- or is he being a bit more morbid lately? And very pointedly at that."

She looked up from her task, a cool thousand mile gaze. "Mon cher ami, being paranoid does not mean that they are not after you with stakes."

He snapped his fingers. "Ouch. "

"I don't know what game he plays, " Janette confessed. "But I do not care for it."

"Somehow, I don't think that's a factor, querida."

"Yes. She looked at the dancers. "He is researching ancient texts. About the Fey."

Vachon would have choked if he'd been drinking.

"Vachon?"

"Seeing La Croix's ugly face first thing is not a swell way to get the night going," he whispered as low as possible when the music rose to a crescendo. "But my luck- that's what happened."

Janette tried to lighten things, "Chere, I can find you a sweet girl, or not so sweet."

"Gack. Don't make me hurl. Even if I was perverse, ugh. But if that's an offer- have you let go of Nick?"

She swatted at him, playfully, but did not say no.

"He wanted to know if Sarah was in distress- a damsel in distress."

"The kind of woman who drew Nicholai like a moth and flame."

Vachon grimaced, muttering a curse even lower. "I was hoping that you would ease my fears, lovely."

She laughed, but with no pleasure. "Sarah, distressed or not, is an innocent; a perfect target for our master."

Vachon glanced around, not sure whether to look up or sidewise. "I just hope someone is watching out for her."

"I would send someone to do so," Janette mused. "But I do not trust most of the young ones, and your absence would be noted."

"Long as we can see him, she's okay."

Saying that the week was tense for the vampires would be a terrible understatement. La Croix knew he was being watched. Vachon was too cheerful. Janette knew him better, knew how to dance around his questions, to watch less obtrusively, but her renewed youth or inexperience, made the knowledge culled from years less usable to her. So he was careful to play on their paranoia, dropping subtle comments here and there. His monolouges became darker.

Pain reminds us of how small we are. It's lessons are in depth. Avoiding it only keeps us in willful darkness. If you hurt, then you know you are alive. Imagine how many lepers there are who would kill to prick their finger and feel it, if they have a finger left. heheheh. But sadder is the emotional leper, jaded and not feeling anything touch their heart. What will it take to bring you back to life, sleeper? Or are you too dead? Shall we see?

Vachon felt colder than he had since the fire Divia set off in his veins had faded. "Remind me again, why are we doing this defiant act? Did anyone mention money? A keg?"

Janette moved closer to him, to an observer it might have appeared like she was flirting at the least, but she only wished to speak without being heard. "Tell me- would you wish someone who speaks so on anyone, especially an innocent. "

"No, but I wouldn't wish him on us either."

"What would Tracy do?"

"Low blow, Janette."

"Sue me."

She moved away, spreading papers onto the bar, knowing her master would be there soon.

"What are you plotting, Jeanette?" La Croix asked in an accentuated tone.

"Pardone?"

"Those papers and studious looks," he gestured, but his hooded eyes held a bit more.

"The Samhain entertainments, mon chere. "

Sniffing, he stated on cue, "Trite drivel catering to the feeble minded jaded by expectations. "

"Yes," she agreed readily. "Think a round of Celine Dion beginning with Titanic would suite the mood?"

Shuddering, he reached past her to take his own special bottle from beside her elbow.

"Care for some? I believe an opera singer might have contributed a pint or two to the blend- if you want real music."

Her glare eloquently attested to the changes in her. "I am content," she gestured to the glass that held only animal blood. "No opinions on Celine? I thought to honor our recent home. And I doubt La Traviatta would attract so much as one customer."

"What next- don't worry be happy or the pina colada song?" La Croix sneered. "Perhaps a rousing chorus of Macarthur Park?"

Janette shuddered. "Don't be vile."

He sighed, almost seeming more like he had been in her year of humanity, slightly human himself. "Thank you, my dear. You have reminded me of why I detest being at work on Halloween."

"Enjoy your take out then, just remember do not take too much," she cautioned rotely.

"I know. I am not Nicholas," he snapped. "Heard from him lately?"

"Why would I?"

"Just asking. How in the world is the world managing to go on without him mopping up the evil doers?"

"He probably is, just not here."

La Croix was silent just long enough to note a slight relaxation in her stance. "Too bad things apparently did not 'gel' for our conquistadore' and the little girl, what was her name- Susy, Sally, Serena?''

"Sarah."

"Sarah. Yes, she hasn't been back has she?"

"I wonder why?" Janette shot back. "Would it have anything to do with guilt, pain, and screams of the devils?"

He chuckled. "No appreciation for art, I take it."

"Pfagh. Any opinion on boy bands?"

That pushed him over the edge, forcing him to return to work. Much to her relief. Janette's eyes closed, reflexes took over and she thought hard about a blonde crusader who helped lost souls.

Vachon appeared at Sarah's door on Halloween night, still in his normal attire.

"Who are you- Fonzie?" she asked.

"Costume's at the club, so's yours. "

"Are costumes really necessary?" she asked halfheartedly.

"According to Janette, yes. It'll be fun."

"And still on the bike?"

"You loved it, admit it."

She just made a face.

The Raven had come to life, metamorphasizing into a creature of fantasy and dreams. Disco balls were regulated to silvery blue light rather than a rainbow mix. The room sparkled with a new light. It's mistress was tres pleased.

Vachon led his "date" more public back room, one that lacked coffins.

"You can change here. I'm on duty, but I'm sure that you'll find a partner or two."

"And Nightcrawler--?"

He flashed her a smile, so rapid she missed the fangs. "At home scaring the ghouls."

Reassured, she changed into the outfit left for her. Princess Leia in Episode Four. Well thank heavens it wasn't the slave girl outfit at least. But if Vachon or anyone thought for one cotton picking minute she was going to double bun her hair, they best think again. Long and loose would have to do. She almost missed seeing the masque, an elegant half face bit of sculpted white lace. So very Rennaissance.

Nice to not be the only bare faced one this time ghosted through her thoughts.

Gathering her skirt and courage, she stepped into the main club. Janette drifted across the floor, a smile on her face. "Excellent- I knew that would be perfect on you." Somehow, her voice was clear even through the rising tide of sound. "Vachon is playing at dj tonight. Dance with anyone you will."

"I'm not much of a dancer, " Sarah admitted.

"Nonsense," Janette sniffed. "Tonight is magic, you will find someone tru- ly inspirational." So saying, she gave a suprisingly forceful shove towards the dance floor.

Sarah found herself alone on the floor, again, surrounded by people moving to their own rhythms, most of which were out of sync with Vachon's endeavors. Janette or not, she decided to just find a seat and watch.

Celine Dion, true to Janette's promise, was crooning -and Sarah was fighting memories. But, nonetheless, they were all coming back to her now.

A hand touched her shoulder, insistant, yet gentle, drawing her to her feet, narrated by

Shocked, Sarah stared into a pirate's masked face, drawn to his hidden eyes. Was it?

Before the thought formed, she was whirled onto the dance floor.

Those arms, she knew them, she had felt them in a hundred dreams.

Half forgotten dreams, misty not quite realities that she didn't really remember and could not forget.

Vachon changed songs in the middle of a note, but Sarah really didn't register it, just felt that she was safe. Totally in a dangerous way. But she would dream on.

She did not speak, but neither did he.

Across the room, Janette threw a glare at Vachon. As a dj, his work was poor at best. He was spinning songs for those two alone- it was not conducive to business. For pity's sake, this was a Halloween event, not Valentine's, not that she would be there on Valentine's. La Croix might shun this night, but he was in rare form on Feb. 14 usually.

Vachon saw her look, and in response put on an even slower song. Even though the current one was not done. She was not leaving there tonight until her heart was given.

The muttered stream of Gallic curses slipped under the bass intensified music to his supernally acute ears and spread a broad smile across his lean features. "It's my show, chica." he replied equally low.

Just in case ya'll miss grim n' evil dj-ing. Allow me a brief soliquay. Surely you've noticed all the moving songs spun for your enjoyment tonight, my children. If not, has your hearing been blinded by wine and violence? But there is a method to this man's madness, albeit a slim one. Tonight is the night when worlds collide- making a loud and clamourous, - clamor-ous- clamor. Scared, well, you are meant to be scared. It's a scary kind of night. Not elegant, but true. Yeah. Well, guess what my kids, ain't nothing scarier than love. It'll tear you apart, but when it puts ya back together, well, that makes it worth it, yeah. Yeah. Okay. Back to the music. Looking kind of sleepy out there. One two three...

Bring Me To Life screamed out from the speakers.

Chuckling, he leaned back until the mood struck him to change again, and let his vision wander across the dancers looking for- yep- right there - totally oblivious to his Nightcrawler routine. Score one for the kid.

Sarah's ears didn't hear Evanescence asking to be brought to life, in her mind, another song played, one that was just for her.

No words played, but she knew them anyway.

Made no sense at all.. made no sense at all..

Even so, it was right.

Janette felt it first, shortly after eleven pm. Vachon, thoroughly enjoying his freedom to play and do whatever he wanted, had just put on Memory. No one really was paying attention to the music anyway, but he was delighting in frustrating her. Then a chill ran down her spine.

Gathering what little courage mortality had gifted her with, she ventured out, patrolling the edges of her territory.

"La Croix."

He stood in the shadows, watching.

"Not much of a dj is he?" he commented.

"No one is really focused on the music- thank goodness. " She took pleasure in his wince at her phrasing.

"If I did, goodness would fall over with a heart attack. Perhaps he's woven a vampiric spell so that none of them knows that he does not know what on earth he is doing. No matter, I'm here now." He began to head to the booth, stopping. "She returned."

Janette stiffened. "Ma chere, many of our female customers are here for more than the first time. "

"Janette, playing the fool ill suits you- you should have learnt that by this point in time."

She remained silent, the one defense she was capable of at this particular point.

"Why her, my father?" she finally asked.

"Power, dear child. And something that would lose its effect if I spoke of it plainly."

"I never shared your partiality for riddles."

"Which is why you - without fail- lose our games."

"Perhaps the games have never concluded- so I have not lost."

He snickered slightly.

"La Croix," she asked, suddenly, "Why the Blazes do you care so much about that girl?"

"Nicholas."

"You want him to try and save her from you."

"No," he answered quickly. "Nicholas has robbed me. How many of my children have been staked or otherwise killed- thanks to him? Mm? More than I care to share names. You were inspired to seek humanity thanks to him... and then stolen from me by him."

"Not quite how it went."

"Nonetheless. Then, of course, there is Fleur. "

"Let that go, La Croix, she is long dead."

"Which is why I can't- had he allowed me to do as I would, she would be alive!"

"Perhaps. What does that have to do with Sarah?"

"She is powerful, you can feel that. Losing my children weakens me. Alone she could turn it around for me, restoring all that I lost, and more."

"Except your soul," Janette sneered silently.

The subtle lift of his brows almost made her think he'd heard her.

Jareth tensed, he'd felt the icewind blow through; it had almost made his glamor flicker and reveal too much, including the fact that Javier Vachon's timing and musical skills were lacking finesse.

The vampire was here. More acute than a the dead man walking's hearing, his Fey senses read what went on between master and childe; saying he misliked it was understatment to the point of ridicule.

Still, he did not fear for Sarah, as much as he might have. Holding her close, he could feel his power flowing over her, the spark of herself answering it in kind, and the union deepening the protective measures around her, especially now that his will was crafting it rather than chance. If harm had been Jareth's intent, nothing he could do would have been applicable to Sarah, but as long as his intent ran on the same course with hers, he could do as he wished.

At that very moment, his wish was to take her to a safer, private place. With that thought driving him, the Fey king Jareth summoned what is most simply described a tesseract, a fold in reality that would carry him and what was his away from there.

Had his next afterthought taken more than just that, an afterthought, it might not have been done, but this at least, was as natural as breathing to Jareth. A dusting of glitter fell on Vachon, powdered crystals that would power the musical glamor until the benign vampire let it go. It was nothing more than a gesture, but it mattered to Jareth that he paid his debts, large and small.

Phrasing what happened next at the Raven is best done with the goblin king's voice- for it was such a pity that he could not see and appreciate the look of fury on La Croix's face at the realization of the vampire's own impotence as his prey vanished seamlessly into the air. For moments, his thought was that the lights' sworls and whirls had fashioned an illusion, but she was gone.

"Who was Sarah dancing with, Janette?"

La Croix's words snapped around Janette, halting her retreat. "Pardone', but am I a housemother? Non. No one submits their dance card for my approval, La Croix. "

"Yes, but ordinary people do not vanish like that. And had it been a vampire, I would have known."

Wrinkling her nose, Janette knew what he was fishing for- did she know of Jareth? Making her voice weighted with disdain, she sniffed, "Mon ami, I realize that the ancient rivalry between the lycanthrope community and ours is at a point of stability and we might even be civil to one another, however, if one comes into my realm, I will not go out of my way to - what is that quant word- chat them up. Even in human form, their blood tastes fuzzy."

Through narrow eyes, La Croix studied his young companion. "Very well. It appears I have been cheated on another front. For now." He sighed as Vachon began a new disk. "Are they all deaf? They aren't even dancing to the tune he is playing?"

"I imagine that if anyone lacking our healing capacity spends too much time in hear, they might become deaf, yes." Janette could feel the Fey magic, but perhaps La Croix's ire was blocking his perceptions. Anger did tend to gum up one's senses or sharpen them, or a curious mix of both that was ultimately detrimental.

Just not long enough. La Croix's nostrils flared. "Fey magic." Cool rage tinted his words, but there was more to it. Amusement. "Perhaps some legends are true. They are tricksters to deal with, and I- I alone opened the door to that one. "

Janette did not correct him.

"Faye? Are you courting someone new, mon cher? Faye- such a plain name, perhaps you can rename her if you have success. "

La Croix's gaze darted to her, but her eyes and face were all innocence; alone enough to make his suspicious. Janette had not been innocent in over ten centuries. If ever. But she gave no clue, no hint. Damn Nicholas. His turning of her was flawed- she had scruples now, and could fake innocence so well that he could not discern when her truth was lies or when her lies were truth.

"Perhaps it is time our conquistador had a break. He is obviously worn out. Make sure he is kept occupied until dawn."

Sarah blinked. What- where was she? The magic she had opened herself to faded as her desire to know rose; equally swiftly came the realization that she was in her own home.

"Vachon- how-" her words fumbled, not really coherent. Only someone who'd seen her heart would understand them.

Someone like, well, him. "I'm not Vachon," he chuckled. "It was time to go, so we did."

Sarah took a good look at her companion, ire quelling other emotions. "Look, I don't know who you are or where you came from," she began, not grasping the irony of her line until he cut in with regal arrogance.

"I take orders from no one, but myself, Princess."

She looked down at her costume, turning red. "That didn't come out right."

"No, the title is yours," he paused a half heartbeat. "Sarah means princess."

"I knew that, but I still don't understand." He said her name that meant, "How did you know my name is Sarah?"

He tried to look innocent, but some things are not possible, even for Jareth.

"You to- very well. I've known you awhile."

"Take off the mask," she replied in a steel kitten's voice.

Yes, she'd make an excellent queen, among other things.

Slowly, seductively, the mask came away, and their eyes met, but comprehension still was missing. The puissance of his eyes reminded her of something, as did his powerful stance and utter confidence, and the shadow of lostness hiding behind his eyes.

"You know, " he mused aloud after granting a moment to look upon his self, "it's not truly fair for you to still be masqued, is it?"

Unthinkingly Sarah replied on cue, "What is your basis for comparison?"

"I--where did that come from?"

Jareth smiled very slowly. "Your memories are not as gone as I thought." He sounded pleased, but it was impossible to be sure.

"Memories?" Sarah breathed. "Then it wasn't all a dream? Dreams?"

Jareth hid his interest in her last word. So, he was in her dreams?

"Well," he drawled, "yes- and no.''

"Either it was or it wasn't all a dream," she insisted.

"No, not exactly. Might we sit?"

"You know- this costume isn't mine, and it was kind of rude of me to leave my escort..."

"Then, don't compound rudeness by leaving me standing," Jareth scowled. "Vachon saw us leave, and will understand. The costume can be returned later- after all, how often does one need such a thing?"

Sarah started to be mulish, but sighed. "Would you care to sit?"

"Yes, thank you."

Sarah waited for him to speak, but the goblin king seemed to be in no hurry. Finally, she sighed. "Look, I'm exhausted. What is going on, please?"

"Do you still enjoy stories?" Jareth asked.

Sarah frowned, "What does--"

"Please, just answer."

"No, I outgr-"

"Sarah."

"Yes."

"Please, do not lie- it only serves beings I'd rather not have served. I must begin with a story, but a true one, though it might not sound true at times. Two worlds exist in the same area, one is rather common. Things are more effort filled on it. On the other, people have access to parts of their mind that are locked away in most people of the first one. These gifts are called magic by people in the first world, but it's natural as breathing. People in the first world who have the abilities of the second might be called witches, or merely psychic, or other things, depending on who calls. Nonetheless, in this world they can not fully use their gifts. The hint of them is enough to tempt others though, especially if they have no inclination toward those gifts themselves. Science originated, largely, due to a desire to gain those powers by those who did not have them. It was called alchemy at first. Some of it was straight science, building on natural laws- but other aspects were evil, dark, forbidden. Always - always, there was a terrible price to be paid for using such dark arts, so some of them thought to avoid the penalty by capturing those who could naturally draw on similiar powers and use them to channel it. "

He rose and began to pace. "My grandfather fell into the hands of one such dark mage, was trapped by the dark powers he dared call upon- one last time, so he claimed - just to entrap a true Fey. He would have died in that foul ..." the next word he used was in another tongue, one Sarah did not know but the inflection left little doubt as to the meaning. "hands, but for the intervention of an angel- a rather human angel. She came and cared for him, kindly as her own slavery allowed, and then was able to free him when the chance came. Even though..."

"What?"

"It cost her ... life. Her poor mortal life, but before she died, she wished away her child to grandfather. "

"Forgive me, but being a goblin doesn't sound much better than being dead," slipped out of Sarah's lost memories before she could stop it.

Jareth gave a short laugh. "We'll get to that. But the child was not turned into anything. He was set up in a new life in this world, and my family pledged to if any scion of his, for all time, ever fell into slavery, free them. Over the years, there have been times that vow was drawn upon. Not so much in chains, but an abusive husband, drugs, alcohol, greater enslavements really, than if they were in bondage to a human."

"This relates to me - us- how?"

"That poor woman was your great, great, great, several times over, grandmother. When you fell into slavery, the vow was renewed."

"I've never been a drug addict or any other kind of addict or abused- oh- you mean La Croix was going to do something to me? Vachon was scared of..''

Jareth put a finger to her lips. "No, child. When you were fifteen, you wished away your brother, who you saw as enslaving you."

Sarah looked horrified. "But --"

"What do you recall? Phantom dreams of the labyrinth that seemed to duplicate the book?" When she nodded he went on. "Toby was not your slave master, nor was Karen, though she did strike me as annoying. Do you know who enslaved you?"

"Got a feeling I won't like the answer," she admitted.

"That's right, you were your own master. Luther's phrase, bondage of the will, sums it up well. So, when you wished, I came, and gave you a dream that took you on a journey to get free of your own illusions. "

Sarah looked confused, justifiably. "Then... Hoggle..Ludo, all of it was ..." Even though she's always thought it a dream, knowing it for sure hurt.

Jareth nodded. "No one is turned into a goblin, because well, they aren't real. "

"Even you don't look exactly like I remember."

"Nor do you," he countered, making her blush. "Bits of your journey were real. You did overcome obstacles that were real, though insubstantial and lacked the quality of being corporeal. But much that is real is not corporeal, in fact, that which is most real is not corporeal. "

"Are you?"

Jareth took her hand. "Decide for yourself."

Sarah blushed deeper.

"One moment of your dream was very real though," he continued, asking a question with his mismatched eyes.

"The dance."

He nodded. "A slight indulgence on my part."

"I've not been able to dance well since. I stepped on my prom date's feet terribly. And now, well.."

"Tonight you danced beautifully," he corrected.

"Thanks to you." Sarah did not look at him. "So, why are you back? I don't think I harbor illusions or delusions that trap me now."

"What- can't I see an old friend?"

"Of course, but ..I 'm confused."

"There is a reason. You hit on it, La Croix wants you, for much the same reason as the alchemist wanted grandfather."

"I have no power!"

Jareth raised a brow. "Oh, what then of ..'the goblin king had given her certain powers' ?"

"That was just part of the dream, wasn't it?"

Jareth did not answer. "La Croix is not what he seems, nor is Vachon or Janette. But the latter two are harmless, mostly. "And Lucien would be, if he were not so bitter. He offered to trade me you for his son."

"Do you have his son?" Sarah was lost now.

"No, dear girl. He had heard a version of the legends that made him think I could find Nicholas and then trade you for him.Even if I could, I would not. No one should be bartered like that. Then, he decided to place you in danger, from himself, to draw Nicholas. A sham, but a potentially convincing one. Then, he realized what - how special you are, and decided that maybe he wanted you for his own."

"How did he realize or know?"

"The protection I placed on you is a beacon to the empowered beings of this world."

"What is he?"

Jareth hesistated.

"Tell me, please."

"Vampire."

If Sarah had not been looking at Jareth, the urge to say, that's impossible would have won; but looking at a Fey made the word impossible irrelevant. "Still, what would he want of me?"

"Vampires- master vampires, draw power from those they bring across. La Croix, from what I gather, has suffered multiple losses over the last decade or so. Given that, he's in need of fresh power, something even recovering Nicholas will not give him. However, turning someone like you, who has inborn power would give him what he craves."

"I thought the power was from you- if you just took it- would he still want me?" Sarah reached for any straw she could find.

"Yes, he would. Even lacking power, you would add to him. The only power I gifted you with was a protective mechanism to summon me if there was need. Exposure to the Fey awoke latent qualities in you that you were born with, and once awoken do not go back to sleep. All the tales of princesses being awoken from enchanted sleeps were embellished to be dumbed down. The girl was not asleep- but her inner self was, waiting to be completed by true love."

"Oh," was all she could come up with, as not witty as that was. The puissant implication was entirely to dangerous right at that moment. "On the protection bit," she managed to begin.

"I will not remove that," and there was no room for negotiation in the tone.

But she went on over his words, "Forgive me for redundance, but how fair is it to you and your family to be bound for ever to some ancient promise? I didn't save you or your ancestor. It's not fair to keep you tied up in a promise so old. Can I release you from it?"

Jareth smiled a bit sadly. "Once made, a vow may only be cancelled if certain conditions are met. "

"What do I do then?"

"Are you certain you wish to know?"

Sarah paused. "Not really, but it's right."

"Very well," he shrugged. "As your mother's family has tended to only children, if you died, the line would end, unless there is a child you have not told anyone of?"

"No- I mean- my dying is the only way?"

"Without a child. But there is one more way."

"Tell me."

"It is forbidden to speak of that way."

"Then why mention it?"

"You asked." His tone was totally reasonable. "However, it is possible that the condition will be fulfilled, if neither of us attempts to fulfill it."

"Anyone ever tell you that you can be terribly enigmatic?" Sarah sighed.

"Inherent risk of being born or adopted into the Fey."

"Adopted?"

"I've told you enough stories for one night, Little girl," Jareth deflected her question.

Before Sarah could press the issue, there was a crash as her sliding door shattered.

"What happened to vampires having to be invited in?" Jareth muttered.

"Va-"

"La Croix," he snapped, born out when the vampire strode into the front room. "I hardly expected to find you here.

"Good evening, children," the ancient vampire said with a false congeniality. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"Lucien, didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to invite yourself over, especially at midnight? Try again around noon," Jareth suggested.

"Tsk. Goblin King, didn't your mother teach you manners?"

Jareth was getting slightly tired of the title. It was fine for Sarah, but he was not king of any sniveling, silly, addle minded or non minded creatures who redefined ugly everytime one of them was born.

"Being rude to someone who has initiated the rudeness is cancelled out by the first infraction. What do you want, vampire?"

"As it appears that you have taken what was offered to you, goblin king, I would say it is time for you to deliver your end of the bargain, or stand aside so I can attempt to salvage the situation."

"Excuse me- I'm not a barbie doll to be traded," Sarah snapped.

"Indeed," Jareth agreed. "Humans are not toys to be swapped."

La Croix shrugged. "To some, perhaps. Personally, I see a rather fascinating future for her. Sarah, come to me."

Had she been alone, the command might have broken through her natural resistance, but Jareth's power spread over her like a cloak. Very deliberately, she moved closer to the blond king.

The vampire did not betray his suprise, merley restated his command, which only brought her closer to Jareth.

"Keep on, I quite enjoy this result," Jareth smiled. "However, I have said she is not to be traded, swapped, sold, etc. That does not preclude the fact that my claim on her has priority."

Sarah jumped slightly, not sure what he meant.

Not liking the idea either.

"Double standard?" La Croix asked. "Come, Sarah, I offer you freedom you can not imagine."

"No, not double. My life is bound to hers, and I will not be bound to such as you," Jareth returned in a logical tone that made perfect sense. Even if Sarah wanted unlife, there'd be no way that Jareth's family could ever escape their oath.

"He's right. It wouldn't be fair to him or his children," Sarah said, bleakly, but for a reason that had nothing to do with vampires or her own choices.

"What children?" Jareth hissed.

"I just thought, assumed..."

"Oh please, lovers' spats are so mundane and banal," La Croix snorted.

"We aren't," Sarah protested.

"I could bring him across as well," La Croix negotiated. "Then he'd be whatever you wish."

"I could send you to a hole so deep the only blood you could find would be your own," Jareth retorted. "Sarah, may I-" he began, hating the necessity of the curse that restricted his dealings with her.

"Do anything you want," she agreed before he could finish, rendering her prior words null and void, not counting the cost. With any luck, La Croix would be thrust headfirst into the bog of eternal stench.

"No time for that," was the regret filled reply, before they flashed out of the room to reappear in a place Sarah had never seen before.

"Where are we?"

"My castle." Noting her disoriented look, Jareth's explanation did not pause, "what you saw before was nothing more than an illusion crafted by your expectations of the situation."

Sarah stared around herself, marveling at the beauty of the palace.

"Clearly, I need to alter my ability to expect."

Jareth's grin was easy. Sarah's thought had been loud, so he began to take her querulousness apart. "There is no bog, though since you created its image, the thought of making one has been tempting, once or twice. Considering the acuity of vampiric senses, the thought of dumping La Croix into such a locale would be a most creative punishment. "

He went on, "Toby has never been here. No one can be sent here, unless they have violated some stricture that would place them under the justice of the Fey. "

"What if I'd lost then?" was it all for nothing?

"You did." The words were gentle, yet steely.

"But--"

"On more than one occassion, you went through the labyrinth, each time learning from prior mistakes. During the last time, your own words as well as those of others would have revealed this had you thought on it. "

You know who I am, Sarah.

Of course you are.

I must be getting smarter..

I know this..

I can never remember that line.

Images of her failures returned... taking the wrong door, meeting Hoggle again, and again, being afraid of Ludo, trying to turn back from the bridge in the bog, endless journeys through the escher room exhausting herself. But one image came only one time.

"We only danced the last time."

He nodded gravely, watching her face as the images paraded through her mind.

"Why that time?"

"Because."

"That's helpful."

"Sarah, answers don't mean anything, unless you find them on your own."

Her eyes fell. "I want to set you free," she stated when her courage allowed it.

"Are you certain? La Croix is still somewhere back there. Proabably madder than ever, whether from anger or insanity is questionable."

"No, I'm not certain, but it's right."

Jareth nodded. "I still can not tell you how."

"I thought- maybe when I asked you to do whatever you wanted to do, maybe that cancelled something or other."

"It did- those last few words about no power. But it only freed me to act under my own discretion in regard to you. Sarah, I don't want to not protect you."

"Even if I don't live up to my part about fearing you?"

"There was more to it than that- but I had forgotten, your society has a rather ugly meaning tied to fear. In older worlds, it means to respect and revere in some forms of the word."

"That is easy then, and doing what you say- I'm not overly obedient with anyone."

"What about the rest of it?"

Genuine fear crossed Sarah's visage. "I - don't know. I've never been in love, except for what -- I don't know if it's love or just wanting it to be." She looked down. He probably had a thousand women in love with him.

"Are you willing to see if it is or not?" Jareth asked gently.

"It's got to run both ways," Sarah dared to say. "One sided gets ugly."

He kissed her, settling any doubts.

"Next question?"

"Is the offer still open?" Sarah asked when she could breathe again.

"Which one?"

"My dreams if I fear you and love you?"

Jareth looked terribly sad then. "It was a one time offer."

He let the words sink in, let the knife of them cut before continuing.

"I can offer you reality though. If you can stand being with me forever."

She was the one who initiated the next kiss. "What about LaCroix and so on?"

A look of distaste marred Jareth's features, on which she could see several differences between the real man and her memory. "La Croix will just have to live with his mistakes. "

"Janette and Vachon did help me."

"Us. Helping you helps me. If they are in danger, I will offer them sanctuary."

Sarah smiled.

"By the way, does accepting forever mean that you love me?" His voice was casual.

"If it's not love, it's at least the best feeling I've ever had, and one I want to keep."

"Just checking."

"Do you --?"

"Close enough."

She laughed. "Neither of us wants to say it first, just in case.."

"Then, let's try it together?"

"I love you."

As dawn neared, Janette yawned. This was one of the things she hated about her renewed youth. Before, she could stay awake, indoors, until nearly noon.

Vachon, blast him, was still chipper, even hyper.

"Where d'ya think HE is?"

"If he does not hurry, he will be a pile of dust in the wind," Janette yawned. "Do not put that song on. It's frightening. "

"La Croix doesn't have any Kansas music back here. Too bad, I like it."

"Reminds him of Divia."

I have burnt her body and will scatter her ashes to the wind.

"Second thought, maybe he's right."

"Oui."

"Think he'll hurt her?"

"Not until it serves his purpose."

"And us?"

"See previous answer."

"You looked wasted."

"Tact is not your best suite, mon chere."

"If we live past tonight, I'll show you what is."