Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Life's busy right now. I'll update as often as I can.

---------------------------------------

Jareth did not join her that day.

Sarah slept through the rest of the second night, tired from her argument. When she woke, the empty room made no sense to her. She looked out and the vampires were in their neat rows. Daylight, then. But Jareth wasn't with her.

She went back and stayed mostly awake in a corner of the bedding, back against the wall and knees pulled to her chest.

She waited for him, because surely he would come. He had to. Vampires slept during the day. Besides, she had said things. Strange things, now she thought of it. Had she really believed he would send her back if she ordered him to? The Goblin King didn't want her here, himself. Why would he keep her in Underground for pleasure? Certainly it wasn't for her conversation!

Sarah yawned her way through an hour, relentlessly replaying every word of the past day. Jareth would return and he would have a lot to say. Some of it might not be pleasant to listen to. Sarah was determined to be firm. And for that, she had to get her story straight.

Fact, Sarah didn't want to be in the Underground. Whatever he said, whatever the Labyrinth needed, she didn't want to be a part of it. There was too much at stake. For her, at least.

Vampires!

When it came down to it, Sarah supposed she feared that the most. Vampires were demons, for want of a better word. They killed for fun and for food. They drank blood. Labyrinths were vaguely disturbing to Sarah's mind, but she found nothing wrong with goblins, no matter how ugly or misshapen. Ludo was such a gentle creature and Sir Didymus… well, he wasn't much of a threat, was he?

"Everything else is so easy," she whispered to herself, falling easily into her habit of conversing out loud with no one, "Everything else in the Underground looks funny and sounds funny. They're not dangerous."

No, they weren't dangerous. Jareth had been the most dangerous of them all and even he hadn't exactly harmed her as just the Goblin King.

"He set the cleaners on me," she remembered, "That was dangerous."

It was dangerous. Those blades had been sharp and the tunnel had been narrow. Would he have let her die down there in the tunnels? What would be the point of it? Babies weren't worth murdering people for, were they? But then, if Jareth was a vampire, and vampires were everything that humans believed they were, then worthiness didn't enter into the picture. Jareth would kill her because she had insulted him and he could give that order.

"But I didn't die," she argued, "And he didn't do anything like that again."

It didn't make sense.

None of the arguments floating around made sense. Why had things gone as they had? How could she have beaten the Labyrinth at all if Jareth was really trying to stop her? For a vampire and a magician, his attempts at stopping her had been inane at best. At worst, they were stupid.

Sarah couldn't understand it. She stayed up all day, trying to understand. Somehow, the need to settle this with herself seemed just as important as keeping awake for Jareth's wrath. It wasn't very long, she realized. The day didn't last so long. The grinding sound of a low growl roused her from a half-sleep to find a vampire in the doorway.

Sarah didn't shriek. She did flatten herself against the wall in pure terror.

The vampire came in, growling low in her throat at the sight of the mortal, but didn't offer her harm. Instead, she crossed to a sturdy metal trunk in one corner and removed a few items of dark clothing that she carried off jealously.

Sarah blinked her heavy eyelids and concluded the night had begun.

She emerged into the Cathedral and the brief glow of the veined walls lit the surreal monotony of a family of vampires awakening.

Lyndon wasn't present either.

Sarah sidled in and took a seat at the table. The pile of clothing taken from Jareth's sleeping quarters was sitting at the table too but she didn't dare to touch it. She didn't want to give the vampires any reason to turn on her when Jareth wasn't around.

For the most part the vampires ignored her. As Pel commented to his companions, "One good mouthful isn't worth it."

Jareth had sworn a lot of very graphic revenge in blunt but beautiful prose for anyone who tried.

Sarah didn't know the particulars but she knew what she had seen. And what she had seen the night before in the Cathedral had been Jareth protecting her. She trusted his actions more than his words. They were harder to decipher but far more honest, to her way of thinking.

"Water," a vampire said shortly, setting a tray down on the table.

Sarah nodded and kept her eyes trained on the female in case of emergencies.

Nothing happened. The vampire turned and walked away, collecting up her belonging and stowing them into one of a collection of bags lying tumbled against the lit walls. One backwards glance from lit eyes and even that tenuous connection was gone, stalking out of the Cathedral with two others.

Sarah wasn't particularly thirsty. She was hungry though.

Pel was watching her, noticed the tapping of the finger against the rim of the heavy glass. Pel wasn't particularly old- as either human or vampire- and he hadn't been in the family long. A recent convert, he liked to call it. Lyndon was still trying to figure out why Jareth had burdened him with such a one. But Pel was biddable enough and he had learned to carry out his orders.

"Food?" he asked bluntly, raising a hand at the table.

Sarah was startled but nodded.

Pel nodded back and went to one corner, gathering up something else and carrying it in his hands towards her.

The plate he set down before her, controlled movement noticeably not disturbing anything that lay upon it. The bowl he set to the side.

"Anything else?" he demanded.

Sarah looked from the grayish slices on the plate to the grayish mess in the bowl. Different textures and different grays, but they both looked unappetizing. "Um, what is this?" she asked timidly.

Pel had his orders, but he didn't like them much. Vampire families were close and a hurt to the family was a personal one. "Food," he answered shortly.

"Right." Sarah looked at the grey slices and poked them. "Is this meat?"

"Something of the kind."

Sarah looked up and sat back. "I just want to know what I'm eating, that's all. I don't mean to be rude about it."

"You weren't," Pel told her. Stiffly, carelessly, and while he walked away.

Sarah shook her head at his back and poked the gray slices against. They yielded to her poking so she concluded they would not feel like cardboard. Picking one up in her hands, she nipped at the corner.

Sticky clear juices ran down directly, staining her lips and very likely her fingers too. Sarah didn't like it.

The gray mess was better, nothing more or less than a type of porridge. Sarah wasn't all that fond of porridge but it was familiar. It tasted decent too. She finished the bowl and, as a final act of defiance, carried it back to Pel herself.

Pel drew level and tipped his chin enquiringly.

"Where do I wash them out?" Sarah said nicely, "Thank you. The stuff was good."

He took them from her. "We can cook," he said, "Eternity is a long time to perfect such skills, don't you think?" He vanished in the direction of the stream.

Sarah went back to the platform. She stayed there for the longest moment, feeling time crawl slowly passed her. Breathing. Just breathing. No need to think. The Cathedral was enormous and silent as a tomb. So Sarah breathed. And fell into the peculiar rhythm of clarity that her trip through the Labyrinth had shown her.

Jareth found her there, green eyes turned up to the ceiling, lips pursed as if she were concentrating. He watched her for a moment, automatically taking note of who was left in the dwelling place and who wasn't, but his eyes never strayed too far from her. His mind had never left.

"Such trouble," he commented to himself.

Sarah looked across to him. And was that relief he could see, dancing briefly over the serene countenance? He smiled and made his way over.

"There, now," he said mildly, "Are vampires that bad?"

Sarah blinked at the off-hand friendly comment, trying to find the sarcasm from sheer habit. It was conspicuously absent. For now. "So far so good," she said cautiously.

"Suspicion does not suit you, Sarah. I told you to trust me."

"I'm trying." It was true, much though she hated to admit it. What else could she do? Jareth could keep her safe and had promised to do so. No point in distrusting him and getting herself in worse trouble. "Why did you want one more day?"

He only laughed and extracted a flask from his clothing with a flourish. "I would offer some, but I fear this isn't to your tastes."

She made a face as he took a long swallow of its contents. "That's disgusting."

"So is drowning," Jareth said tartly, "So glad I don't need air in my lungs anymore." He sat down and continued, "Forgive my negligence. This is not how I planned to spend your one day."

"Let me guess- a picnic in an oubliette?" Sarah snapped.

"What have we said about suspicion?" Jareth returned. He even felt the brief stirring of annoyance again. It didn't last long. "Try to believe I mean you no harm. We have business to conclude and snapping doesn't help. Do we have a deal?"

Sarah nodded grudgingly. She took a deep breath, relaxing. Jareth was making no mention of her outburst from the previous day.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, looking up with a polite smile.

"Yeah. Thanks. Where- where were you?"

The smile turned to a more familiar smirk. "Missed me, Sarah?" He chuckled a little at her annoyed frown. "I had business to attend to. You wouldn't have liked it."

"Oh? Stealing babies again?" Sarah wanted to bite her tongue out for such a blatant breach of good manners but the damage was done. She braced herself for the volcanic eruption.

Surprisingly enough, Jareth answered her question peacefully- "No. The Labyrinth is too damaged to respond to wishes at the moment. We have no more sources of fresh food." He sipped thoughtfully at the bottle in his hand, "I shall have to organize an external food source- trips to the Aboveground and that sort of thing."

Sarah tried to keep her end of the bargain. Tried not to say what she thought of such a plan, such a trip. Tried not to cover her ears and fret that she couldn't do anything to stop it.

"This makes you angry," Jareth observed.

"I'm listening to a vampire planning to kill innocent people."

"Why is that hard for you to hear? Even a vampire must needs eat."

"Personally," Sarah told him, "Personally I wish vampires didn't exist."

"Ah, now, Sarah, don't be like that. We are attempting to be gracious with you. Politeness decrees that you return the favour."

Sarah glared morosely at Jareth, all too aware that he was more amused at her jibes than frustrated. He was watching her from his seat, cupping his face in his hands as he leaned his elbows on the table, smirking treacherously with those glossed lips.

"I'm sorry." She took a gulp of water and felt the coolness drown her frustration.

"You can ask," he told her.

"I don't want to ask anything."

"Yes, you do. I can see it in your face."

Sarah rolled her eyes at that. "Alright." She could think of something to ask an arrogant person who thought he knew everything. "Why do you make people run the Labyrinth? And how come you're the Goblin King? Why do the Goblins serve you?"

"More than one question. This is trust indeed. The goblins serve me because I am the Goblin King. I am the Goblin King because I created the goblins. I make people run my Labyrinth because they do not want their children to become my goblins. A very simple set of questions."

"So you can turn people into goblins."

Jareth hesitated. Leaning forward, the amused look vanished from his long face, leaving a curious wariness in its place. "How much do you really want to understand, Sarah? I won't tolerate screaming and curses," he warned, "It's no secret, but I would prefer a calm working relationship."

"On second thoughts don't tell me."

Jareth tapped the table as if he had suspected that all along and went back to lounging in his seat and sipping from the flask in his hand. All the while he kept his strange eyes on Sarah's face, noting the ebb and flow of her blood and her thoughts. Humans never could learn to control themselves; their blood was too hot, too quick and eager. Youth sped the process up yet more and Sarah could not hope to hide her real mind from him.

"Vampires need blood," he began, "And magicians need magic. I am, unfortunately, both. Along with that, I am responsible for the safety of my guards. My family, to use the typical vampiric term. The Underground provides safety. It does not provide human blood."

"There are animals," Sarah offered.

Jareth waved the suggestion away impatiently. "They taste foul. Humans are closer to our natural state and so their blood is best. Unless we are to evolve into creatures like your friends. To provide human blood, we originally set up raiding parties. Easy enough to plan, but horribly taxing on my time and energy. I had to transport them."

"So you stole children?"

"So I looked for more magic," he stressed, "Children are far more magical than adults, you know. Very open to imagination and impulses. Instincts, too. First I took those I found on the streets, whom no one would miss and would be better dead…"

Sarah whimpered and clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the callous indifference.

"… it was less than efficient. Killing brought unwanted attention and magic does not rely on blood. Magic is in the soul. But appearing to a child and leaving them to speak of it was not efficient either. So I had to devise another plan."

Sarah lowered her hand, convinced that only this infuriating man could make a plan that didn't involve killing people sound so tiring. The way he said it, with that little inflection and that little sigh!

"So the Labyrinth was created."

She waited for a moment. "That's it?"

"Did you want minute detail?"

She looked at the flask and it was a normal flask. Her dad had one of them but he didn't take it out much.

Jareth watched her. He was force-feeding her information in bite-sized pieces, trying to get her to absorb as much as was possible without knowing it. If she thought about it too much, she would get confused. He couldn't afford that.

"The children provide me with humanity," he murmured, "The way you see me is from them. I can't appear to a human looking as I should."

"But none of the others look like proper vampires either," she pointed out skeptically, "Why do you need children for that?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't last long, the illusion. And vampires are weak creatures."

"What?"

"Weak. Fundamentally. Too complaisant and too unoriginal. Look at them. They still fight with swords," Jareth snorted, glancing over his shoulder, "It was worse when I was first changed. The whole order was steeped in tradition. Masters and apprentices and the childer not allowed to do more than steal the leftovers in exchange for a look. Starve a vampire enough, or bait it, and it will leave its lair in a rage. A stupid race, we are, sometimes."

Sarah opened her mouth and shut it again.

"Not that humans are much better. You are weak and your reflexes are poor. Your minds are incapable of fully experiencing the possibilities of creation. But you try to make up for it. You try to adapt. I admire that about humans. And their determination, of course. Vampires prey on the weak but the humans, they fight the Gods."

"You use children to make you human?"

"The semblance of humanity, yes. It grows a little warped, perhaps, but then I am a vampire. I also do them a service. They are not wanted, they are not valued. I take them away to a place where they can be happy, oblivious even."

"You turn them into goblins."

He examined his gloves. "An unhappy side-effect of taking their humanity, yes. I take their physical beauty, their youth, their strength and leave them the rest. Goblins are very happy being what they are. They know no better."

"You monster."

"No," he was particularly serious about this, "Not a monster. At first, yes. I took the children and used those who wished them away for feeding. I suffered a few side-effects. Can you guess what they were?"

"Your conscience wouldn't let you sleep at night?"

"I sleep during the day and I have no conscience, as such. When I became a vampire, I gave up my humanity and chose to live outside of human society. My conscience, as you put it, or finer feeling, as I put it, died. No, what happened was that I stole humanity. And there were so many that I could not handle it all. I chose a better system. I created the Labyrinth and gave the wishers a choice- take the dreams or run the Labyrinth. If they ran the Labyrinth, I would seduce them."

"What?"

"Seduce them," Jareth repeated amiably, enjoying the high-pitched squeak of disbelief, "Having them offer what I need is more enjoyable than taking it. The battle makes the blood sweeter. Makes the victory taste better."

"You didn't with me," Sarah blurted.

Jareth smirked and didn't say anything to that. He ignored it, in fact, because they weren't quite ready to go in that direction. He could envision all sorts of awkward questions arising from replying to that statement.

"The best part," he assured her, "Is that the goblins age. Not mentally, but physically. Dark, rich, mature blood is perfect. Childhood blood is not really pleasurable. But in emergencies, we can use the goblins for feeding. We choose not to, however, they don't make an attractive meal."

"I'm not listening to this."

"Why? Is it too horrendous?" Jareth laughed, "Too much to swallow?"

"How can you do it," Sarah asked, "You grew up a human. Okay, you need blood. In certain ways I can understand that, but you take pleasure in it."

"Sarah, if I didn't, would I be able to stand an eternity of this?" he reminded her.

She clicked her tongue in exasperation and bit her nails, trying to sort out the jumbled bits of information he had thought to throw her way. "So if you take only the good things out of the children, how come you're not a ray of sunshine in this dark world?" Sarah asked.

Jareth chuckled but only indicated his wrist. "I did tell you- I use the children for magic and I take blood from the challengers."

"You've told me that. I don't see how it relates."

"The base emotions are all in the heat of the blood- lust, passion, greed, selfish concern. The children give me the good, if you like, but the bad is stronger, more mature. The children supply good things, but the blood is stronger and older and more potent."

Sarah shook her head and tried to understand it. "I'm still not absolutely getting it."

"Compare it to the effect of alcohol and fruit juice upon your senses. You can drink any amount of fruit juice that you like. It is good for you; it fills your body with health and vitality. A cupful of alcohol will fill you with visions and dancing and freedom the like of which fruit juice can never experience. It is the same with this."

"My logic tells me this is bad," Sarah confessed, "It tells me I should be disgusted and completely hate you for all time."

Jareth lifted his wrist and nipped lightly at the flesh under her gaze. "And your blood?" he murmured.

"Hates you," Sarah said simply, "Because my logic finds you fascinating."

"You said your logic hates me."

"That's why it's fascinated. Because I hate you. I do. You're evil and what you're doing is wrong. You can't treat people like supply cupboards! You deliberately trick them so you can kill them. Do you even get that?"

"When I lived in your territory, you hunted my kind. I see no reason not to return the favour," Jareth dismissed, "Of course I understand it. A predator will hunt. The prey has to be trapped because prey has the annoying habit of saving its neck."

Sarah curled in on herself, fighting the side of her brain that pointed out all of this was purely logical. Even admirable in some ways. It was so feral, so profound in such a basic way. And yet it was too simple! It was flawed; it had to be even if its reasons were so logical. It had to be flawed because the outcome felt so wrong!

Jareth watched her churn the idea over mentally, digging her fingers into her scalp as she did when particularly agitated by something. He quite enjoyed it, in fact. It had been a long time since he had done this with such a mind as hers.

She was fundamentally innocent. She believed in the good of the world and all that. Jareth didn't. Jareth believed in strength and power and surviving any way he could.

It was war- even if Sarah didn't know it- a minor, miniscule battle of wills where one was essentially of the dying race that tried to do the right thing, and the other was of the sort that knew right and wrong weren't important.

Jareth watched Sarah battle her own uncertainties in her head and he could smell her frustration and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled from the tension she generated and he wasn't going to be soft on her. He wasn't going to give her anything less than a full fight. And he hoped she would come through the fire unscathed. But he feared she wouldn't.