Title: Witches' Rites

Author: Yodeladyhoo

Summary: Sarah longs to be with Jareth, but at what cost?

Genre: Fantasy

Pairings: Jareth x Sarah

Rating: T

disclaimer (dĭs-klā'mər): noun

1. (law) a voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something

2. denial of any connection with or knowledge of

syn: disavowal

c.1986, 2007 The Jim Henson Company.

LABYRINTH is a trademark of The Jim Henson Company.

Labyrinth characters c.1986 Labyrinth Enterprises.

All rights reserved, but not by me.

All rights are reserved, but not by me. This short story is a work of fiction. All original characters in this story are based on actual persons. Said persons have been contacted and permission to use their likenesses has been granted. This means, if I didn't speak to you about this, it isn't you I'm talking about. Permission for the use of the non-original characters has not been requested by the author or granted by the licensor. This short story was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested.

Plea for Reason: Well, this took a twist I wasn't expecting. Just an epilogue to go, now. It isn't plagiarism if I give credit. The areas in bold are taken from The Way of the Goddess by Ly Warren-Clarke, published by Prism Press, Bridport, Dorset, Great Britain.

Thirteen years.

For thirteen years Sarah wondered and worked over the final words spoken in desperation from Jareth. At the time, she was too young to understand their implications, too young to make a decision of that nature, too young to be mature enough to negotiate. At the time, she was still too self-absorbed to hear anything being said; all she could focus on was the words that she struggled for so long to remember. She needed to become her own person before she could return any of the emotions that Jareth was offering her at the time.

Now, thirteen years later, she understood. She understood what he meant to fear him, to do as he said for him to be her slave. But, time is a funny thing. She doubted that implied message was what she heard. She needed to know the truth. Five years ago, she found her Calling. In those five years, she searched for the Truth to fill the void in her spirit, and it had—to a point. It could not tell her the answers she craved. She had to go back to the source to find that truth. And what better night than Samhain. A time dedicated to the darker aspect of the Moon, the Crone diety of the Goddess, and introspection.

It had been thirteen years since she heard that voice caress her ears. Sure, it flowed in the recesses of her memory; the inflections, the timbre, the accentuations—but not on her hearing. Sarah tucked a hunk of wet hair behind her ear. I must look like a drowned rat. How come in the movies, when the leading male shows up, the leading female always looks perfect? Composing herself and her thoughts, Sarah spoke. "You came." She didn't dare turn around yet, she wasn't that composed.

"You summoned. I had no choice in the matter."

Arranging herself so that she might rise with dignity and grace, Sarah got up and turned to face the apparition that was speaking to her. She tried hard not to let the image before her take her breath away. His appearance matched her memory of him; pale hair made almost translucent in the moonlight, his skin glowing from the reflected light. All this offset by the surrounding darkness of the night and his clothing. There were some dull glints of metal as the sheen of the moon rested upon them, accentuating the heavy, dark leather of his jacket. He sat perched on the edge of the alter, the muscles in his thighs seemed highlighted by the play of shadows cast by the night. Her ire started to surface as she understood the duality of his statement. "I suppose I should pardon the intrusion, then."

"Sarah," she suppressed the shiver that the enveloping of his voice uttering her name caused, "if there were a way to overcome what our ancestors have done, I would have it so. As it is, I am unwilling to pay the price that you so blithely offered this night. Be that as it may, you have summoned me here to speak with you. Speak."

Taken aback, Sarah's mind was drawn to the original purpose of this night. "Why, Jareth? Why me? Why offer yourself when you started by offering my dreams? How could it be that you would be my dream?"

A slow smile drew Jaerth's lips up his cheeks. It wasn't the smile of mirth or of joy; it was the smile of knowledge that only age can afford. "The Powers That Be work in mysterious ways, do they not? Be grateful, as I am, that They allowed your dream to coincide with mine, for you are as much my dream as I am yours." The wind played with strands of his hair as he elevated himself and walked to Sarah. Placing gloved hands upon her face, his fingers cradled her head, tilting it upwards, "For so long I have waited for you to join me, waiting for you to pass through the Veil on your own. Now you have summoned me. Parting from you might be difficult again, but this time, I will have the assurance that I, too, am your dream and that you are willing to accept it now."

As he spoke, his voice mesmerized Sarah. She stood motionless within his gentle grasp, waiting as his head lowered to her face. Ever so gently, Jareth's lips blanketed hers. The beginnings of the kiss sent an electric jolt through Sarah's body, reanimating her to reality. "Wait. Did he just say what I think he said? I'm his dream? What…oh…HE'S KISSING ME!" It took agonizing seconds for the impulses in her brain to reach her body, telling it to respond to the stimulus. Her arms slipped over the smooth leather of his jacket and hooked around his shoulders and back. She pressed her body into his, feeling the clasp at his waist push into her abdomen. The groan that rumbled from his throat took her by surprise as the tenderness yielded to intense passion. He removed his hands from her face to encircle her body in his arms. It was ecstasy in his arms; it was his divine right to hold her. Over fifty years he waited, fantasized about this moment. It was everything and more than he could have ever imagined. He'd be damned if he didn't use his time wisely, this night. When at last their lips separated, a sigh passed between them, both now content with knowledge. They stood, a bit off center to the circle, in each others arm. Jareth rested his chin on her head, refusing to relinquish the hold that he so long waited to wield, and Sarah lowered her arms to encircle his waist, her hands resting over the form of his buttocks, her cheek placed on his chest where his jacket left bare.

"How?"

Jareth lifted his head to look upon the face of his beloved.

"How do I cross the Veil?"

Jareth disentangled himself from her with regret. He stepped towards the rock and noted what was placed there with loving care; a chalice of wine, a smoldering cauldron, a silver pentagram, an anthame, a wand, a candle. He picked up the pierced, silver disc and toyed with it as if it were a quarter being flipped through the fingers of a magician. "One of the sages of this world told you. Energy can not be neither created nor destroyed, merely transformed. Your energy must make the journey."

Sarah felt chilled by the absence of Jareth's arms. She watched him as he approached the alter that Patt arranged. Patt usually was very in tuned to the tools of her working and Sarah was very surprised when she didn't say anything about Jareth's flippant handling of her pentagram. Patt. Sarah looked over her shoulder at the still-collapsed form of her friend. Something was wrong, very wrong. The older woman had a dull pallor to her skin and she had not moved from the position that Sarah saw her in when she first saw her. Moving to her friend's side, Sarah crouched. Her hand recoiled from the matron's face when she realized that the form was not creating its own heat.

"She's dead." It came out as a shocked whisper; Sarah was having difficulties in digesting the fact.

"She has crossed the Veil."

Sarah looked up at Jareth, still near the alter. Her eyes flamed in fury as her voice became ice. "Bring her back."

"Sarah, I can not. I did not take her. She left on her own. She understood the price of this undertaking of yours and agreed to pay it, for your sake."

"Bring her back!" She stood, her entire body shaking with rage. "First you take my brother, now you take her! You…"

Jareth's eyes deepened with anger and burned with intensity as they bore down into the windows of her soul. Not realizing his forward motion, he strode over to her, his hands gripping her upper arms to emphasize his message. "I did nothing to her! She knew the price to be paid for transporting across the Veil! Do not blame me for your ignorance."

Sarah searched his eyes for the truth, hunting down any lies. Finding none, she sagged in his grasp. Jareth moved forward to catch her in his arm. Leaning heavily on him, Sarah wailed for her loss. "I'm so selfish! Goddess, why didn't she tell me!?" She grabbed handfuls of Jareth's jacket; despair driven madness caused the glitter that he saw in her eyes. "Tell me, how do I cross the Veil!?"

Gently, he guided them both to sit on the pebbled beach. Sarah didn't feel the small stones bite into her knees as she rocked in Jareth's arms. "Beloved, you cross the Veil when your time has come. Your friend here knew what was to come. She welcomed it with an open heart, eager to explore the next stage of existence."

"What do I tell her husband, her kids?" Sarah moaned.

Jareth kissed her forehead, firm lips on a furrowed brow. "What they would expect, what she would expect of you: the truth."

Frightened eyes gazed up into serene ones. "Don't leave me, Jareth."

"Never, Sarah-mine. Yet, I can not stay here in your world, confined only to this circle. You must banish me, as you must banish this circle."

"NO!" She clung to him as if he were an anchor in the fierce gale of life.

Holding her close, as if his actions could protect her, he realized that it was impossible to do that. "Sarah, we can't live in this circle. The Elements must be dispersed this night. It is the Way and the Means of the Craft."

Again, her eyes searched his. "Will I see you again? I mean, before I cross?"

Jareth smirked. "Do you think you can find another willing participant knowing what you now know?"

Sarah knew the answer. Lifting herself to her knees, she threw her body into Jareth's. He accepted her kiss with all of the passion and determination that she poured into him. There was a fierceness in her lips, a conviction that both knew that this last kiss would have to sustain the both of them until such time. Their souls intertwined as their minds and hearts bonded to one another, a binding that would have to be able to bridge any divide that their ancestors had thrown in their lives' path.

Sarah rose to her feet. Without looking back, she stooped to pick up her own anthame as she approached the alter. She turned to face the circle. This was no longer Sarah, young woman who was bonded with a Fae. This was Sarah, Maid of the Ancient Way, passing through her rite of passage to Matron.

"Ye are my sisters and my brothers of the Past, Present and Future.

May we walk upon the Silver Path throughout Time,

Through all the Times that are yet to be.

We have met this night and remembered. We have known this night.

Time is no time, barriers are naught but illusion.

All life is endless!"

She looked meaningfully at Jareth's erect form, his arms tense at his sides, his hands clenched in fists. His gaze was intense, taking her in as if this were the last time he would ever see her. It just might be, she thought.

I bid thee go now, all called here, disturbing not those who would fear thee, nor harming any substance of this Earth.

Remember me, for we are One, for the Gods have seen and it is They who call the tune!

So Mote it Be!"

Lifting her anthame above her head, Sarah watched its tempered blue-tipped steel sliced through the darkness of the night with the setting moon's light. By the Gods and the Goddess, she is magnificent!

"All that is for my highest good is now past as is the year that is no more.

Might that I seek knowledge from that which has been and seek,

within the New Year,

the wisdom to be that which the Mighty Mother sees fit that I be!

Blessed Be the Ancient Woman!"

Lowering her arms, she was not alarmed to see only the prone body of a woman on the ground in front of her. With a ragged sigh, she sent the Elements to their Realms, thanking them each in their turn and disbanded the circle. She then dug into her backpack and pulled out a cellphone. Sitting on the ground, she dialed.

Author's Note: I've done it for you. Now, please return the favor. Review. Thank you.