Ok guys, here is the next chapter. Please let me know what you think, I love reviews. Got to go now because Jareth is chasing me with a pitchfork...he really hates me right now!

Lots of love,

FY.A xxx

Jareth landed a few feet inside the band of trees that surrounded the meadow. The heat of the flames burned his skin and dried his eyes so that he had to blink fiercely in order to be able to peer through the smoke. Flames rose and glittered and smoke blurred the heated mass of the screaming army that writhed in pain on the meadow floor. And then the smoke cleared for second and what Jareth saw made his heart stop.

Highlighted against the flames stood two small figures, back to back and surrounded by a halo of light that encompassed the top of the mound upon which they stood. Jareth did not need to ask himself whose tomb it was. Jareth's eyes opened wide and he shouted out a warning as a hail of arrows soared from the flames, their deadly iron tipped points flashing as they seemed to ripple in the heat. His shout was lost in the screams of the army but he felt himself swell with pride as he saw both of his sons raise their hands. A second later they were surrounded by what looked like deep red rain.

The small black haired figure broke away from the other and Jareth just caught what sounded like a shout of excitement over the crackling flames.

A figure crested the brow of the mound.

"No, by Creation's name, no," Jareth whispered.

And then Jareth was running.

Running regardless of the heat that scoured his pale face and the flames that nipped at his clothing. In his haste, all tiredness was forgotten, the need to breathe irrelevant as he saw Time raise his arm, iron sword blade glinting, and throw spinning through the air towards the unprotected back of his younger son, as Rath turned, his face split by a wide grin.

Jareth stumbled to a halt, unable to believe what he was witnessing, all sound blocked from his ears so that world fell silent around him. Nathaniel's hand dropping, Rath staring down at the pint of the sword where it protruded from his chest. Rath reaching behind him and tugging the sword with an effort that contorted his features. Nathaniel catching his brother. The glass giving way as they disappeared from view.

Real time hit him with a wave of fury that sent swathes of flaming figures into an inferno that swept them from his path to the mound, clearing his way as his pain blasted a clear path. Time's eyes met his and he cursed the triumph that he saw there as Time whispered quietly to a bird that sat upon his shoulder.

The falcon took flight, soaring high before turning and plummeting back towards Jareth. He had time to see the glint in its eyes, the razor sharp claws before it struck, going straight for the medallion. Jareth felt sharp claws pierce the skin as hot blood erupted from his chest and he acted instinctively, throwing his weight upwards towards his attacker and spreading his wings so that he could turn in the air, sinking his own claws into the exposed underside of the ferocious bird of prey. The falcon began to shake him, claws gripping his chest, much as it would have down a rabbit but Jareth hung on grimly, his white feathers becoming mottled with red and black. He closed his talons tighter and pulled back towards his body.

The falcon's blood was hot as it swept over him in a deluge of flesh and organs as the falcon's skin finally gave way. They hit the ground together, Jareth lying face down in the ash, one arm underneath himself against the raw skin of his chest, his fingers curling round the metal of the medallion.

Slowly, Jareth began to push himself up collapsing back to the ground as the pointed toe of a black boot connected with his ribs. He rolled over carefully, blinking up at the figure of Time who stood above him.

"My my Jareth," Time sneered, "haven't you come a long way down since we last met?"

Jareth swore and tried once more to clamber to his feet but Time place the end of his scythe in the small of Jareth's back, pinning him to the ground.

"I have to say though Jareth," Time continued conversationally, "I'm surprised you're so worried about staying alive. I'd have thought you'd have been desperate to join that sweet young bride of yours, taken so cruelly, before her time." Time leered down at him. "Where did you bury her, Jareth? I fail to see hers among the graves gathered here...but perhaps that is only right. After all, she was only a hu..."

Jareth was on his feet as Time was blasted backwards from him. His frame was vibrating in anger but the hand he held outstretched was steady as a rock.

"Never," he whispered, "NEVER," and his yell filled the whole graveyard, "say that Sarah is merely a mortal. She beat you. We beat you. She's alive, Time. You do not hold sway here."

Time looked up at Jareth who was surprised to see an amused expression in the old man's eyes. Time moistened his lips.

"Not like your son then," he said with a smile.

And then they were duelling, face to face, the air turning hot around them once more, Jareth carried by the force of his anger, and the fear that what Time said might be true. Crystals appeared in Jareth's hands, turning to snakes and striking at Time's ankles, winding up his legs. But as they came into contact with his flesh they shrivelled and died, falling harmlessly back to the ground. Time struck with his scythe, the dark blade biting into the flesh of Jareth's arm before he seized the shaft and twisted it from Time's grasp, hurling it back at its owner. As it struck Time's chest it shattered, turning into shards of metal that flew back in Jareth's direction before becoming a hail of meteorites that rained down from the sky. As they punched into Jareth's shoulders Time took another step back, darting out a hand and catching one of the falling pieces so that it reformed in his hand and he once more held his scythe.

"You see Jareth," Time panted, "you can't beat me. Not forever. You have to learn to accept me, love me even. Do you think you could do that Jareth?"

Jareth looked at the old man before him. He looked down at his trembling hands. He felt so, unbearably, tired. He looked up into Time's eyes and lowered his arms to his sides and took a step forward, toward where Time stood.

"That's right Jareth. Come and rest. Come and sleep with those you love. Leave this difficult place and the responsibility and the pain. Come with me Jareth."

Jareth took another step forward and reached out his hand towards the old man.

"NEVER!" he screamed and extended his hand fully, a golden stream of light flowing from his palm to land squarely in Time's chest. The broken figure was blasted backwards against the stone doors of Pan's tomb, which cracked beneath the impact. The force of the magic drained Jareth's remaining energy and he crumpled to the ground, raising his head just enough to look into the old man's eyes, watching for his counter attack.

Time's face held only a look of mild surprise and sadness. "No," he whispered, "it...can't...be..."

As though pulled by an invisible force his body slithered backwards across the stone flagged floor, his old withered hands scrabbling useless for purchase. To one side stood a box, its lid askew and a deep chill escaping it. It was towards this that Time was being taken. Jareth watched in horror as, with a snapping of brittle bones, Time disappeared within the depths, and the lid slid straight.

Jareth let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Painfully, he dragged himself to his feet and blinked blood from his eyes. His feet felt like lead as he stumbled to the doorway of the tomb, leaning a hand against the stone pillar as his eyes became accustomed to the dark. He conjured a small crystal, but his fingers were so slippery with sweat and blood that it fell from his grasp and shattered at his feet. He took a deep steadying breath and tried once more. This time he succeeded in creating a small globe light that floated to the stone ceiling and hung there, casting a cold light over the interior of the tomb.

Jareth felt his eyes drawn as though by magnets to the long thin body that lay atop a stone ledge at one side of the tomb. The tanned arms were folded across the strong, muscled chest and the heavy lids were drawn down, covering the drastically mismatched eyes. Pan looked as if he was sleeping, with none of the pallor that usually went with death. Jareth's eyes were drawn down from the ledge to a small bundle that huddled in the angle where the ledge met the floor. It was emitting sharp gasps, as though of pain, its body shaking uncontrollably.

Jareth crouched down in front of Nathaniel, who raised red eyes, filled with pain, to meet his.

"Daddy..." he whispered as his small hands scrabbled at the front of Jareth's torn and bloody shirt. "Daddy..."

"Sshhh," whispered Jareth. "It's over. You're safe."

"B...b...but Daddy," Nathaniel's breath rattled and Jareth pressed him tightly against his chest, willing his son not to say what Jareth knew he had to hear. "Daddy, Rath's dead."