All in all, it wasn't a bad plan. Sarah thought it was far too risky, but Jareth would not be swayed. With all the faith she had in Jareth's powers and title, in truth she could not say who was more powerful; Pitch or Jareth. They were similar; too similar, both made of mischief and dreams. However, Pitch had crossed over that line of darkness, and Sarah doubted there was much hope for him or his humanity at this point. Jareth, though...for a moment there, his anger and compassion had been so evident and raw, that it was easy to forget that he was indeed fae, and not simply a man.

It was disconcerting, and Sarah did not want to think on it. It stirred up too many mixed emotions, and she already had enough to think of in regards to the Goblin King. Instead, she tried to focus on perfecting the details of their plan, and fighting down the fear that even now threatened to overtake her.

It was normal to be afraid. She just couldn't let it consume her.

The darkness in the cave almost appeared alive for all that it touched, spreading and consuming the entire cavern, and even Jareth at times. She tried to keep her eye on him, but it was hard to focus in the darkness. When a hand came out to rest on her shoulder, she jumped, nearly screaming as she spun to face her attacker. But it was only Jareth looking concerned, and Sarah embarrassedly apologized.

His gloved hand came to rest at her waist, pulling her to his chest as he rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her carefully. Her shoulders tensed for a moment, and then she relaxed into his embrace, her fists tightening around the leather at his back. He tangled his hand in her hair, keeping her close to him. "I won't let him hurt you, Sarah," he promised solemnly, the vibration of his voice reverberating through his chest so that Sarah could feel it. It was comforting enough to almost make her forget where they were, and who they were trying to defeat.

And then the illusion shattered.

The mares swarmed around them, Pitch at their helm, an evil grin plastered to his face. All the plans they had made were thrown out the window as Jareth pushed Sarah behind him, casting his arm in front of her protectively as the mares circled them, looking like a black sea from which there was no escape. Pitch slid down from his mare, looking taller to Sarah than he had only a few hours ago. Even Jareth noticed the change, though it only increased the rage he felt. Pitch drew closer, his mare's eyes gleaming. "I'll give you one last chance, Goblin King," Pitch goaded. "Give up the girl and I'll grant you free passage to your kingdom."

Jareth snarled in response, Sarah's heart pounding. She knew he would not take the threat idly. He was much too possessive .

Jareth attacked in a flurry of light, keeping Sarah close by as he blasted at the nightshade, a grim line of determination set upon his lips. Pitch was no minor lord, though, and he seemed to only be growing stronger, despite their efforts. One of the mares brushed past Sarah, it's flank skimming her shoulder. Her body reacted violently, trembling with a cold chill that gripped her. It was similar to what she had felt when Pitch touched her, the cold clutching at her skin and spreading through her veins. She shuddered violently, falling away from Jareth slightly as he continued to blast at Pitch, his mismatched eyes feral in the dim light. Sarah tried to push back towards him, but found herself trapped in the sea of mares, their icy skin a cold burn as they brushed past her, pulling her farther and farther away from the Goblin King. She could still see the blasts of crystal light and dark sand, illuminating the cave. But it was growing further and further away; the cold was becoming all she could focus on, her movements slowing as she tried to fight her way back.

Jareth seemed to sense that she was missing, because she could see him turn, his eyes searching frantically for her. He managed to find her, his concerned eyes meeting hers just as he was hit with a blast from Pitch in the shoulder. His eyes went wide as he turned back to the shade, his hand clutching at the black wound that festered on his shoulder, it's tendrils slowly spreading across his chest, a black malady that grew with every breath. Jareth cursed, trying to abate it with his magic, but the blight only seemed to feed off of it, consuming him as Pitch laughed in jubilation, drawing closer as the Goblin King staggered, the crystal he had summoned only moments ago rolling from his fingers and shattering on the ground.

Sarah surged forward, her heart in her throat as she cut her way through the steeds to Jareth, no longer concerned with them touching her. The pain was there, but adrenaline was a potent drug, and it carried her through the black sea, running to his side where she should have been in the first place.

It was an unconscious act, really.

Sarah clutched the pendant that swung at her neck as she neared Jareth, Pitch almost close enough to strike another blow, when Sarah cast out her arm, only intending to shield Jareth, and felt a lurch in her chest that shuddered through her bod. Her skin prickled as the sensation extended through her fingertips, blasting Pitch back in a violent explosion of green light. He flew back, stunned, gasping as Sarah reached Jareth, the spreading arms of black sand encroaching upon his neck, consuming nearly all of his chest and creeping down his thighs. She reached out to touch his face as he looked so stricken, so pained, but he pointed behind her. "Sarahh!" He hissed, the effort clearly paining him as Sarah quickly turned, barely dodging another blast from Pitch, who looked truly furious. Gone was the smirk and goading; now the nightshade looked hellbent on destruction, snarling as he drew closer, his black sand swirling at his feet. Sarah knew she could not let it touch her; Jareth was barely holding on, and surely she would have even fewer natural defenses were she hit.

She could run, but Jareth would have to be left there at Pitch's mercy.

It wasn't even a consideration.

Sarah lunged forward, her left hand clutched around her pendant as she let the prickling feeling overwhelm her, static charging the air as again the green light flew from her fingertips, narrowly missing Pitch as he quickly disappeared, reappearing closer to her right. He summoned a large scythe out of the swirling sand, swinging it at her as she barely dodged out of the way, dropping to the ground just fast enough to feel the sail of the weapon over her head.

If Sarah had been scared before, now she was terrified. She didn't know where the power that she brandished came from, or how to control it, but now it was clearly her only chance to defeat Pitch. She had to try to harness the power she wielded, or else Pitch would surely kill them both.

Sarah rolled to a crouching position, flexing the fingers that still felt charged with energy. The mares were still close, but shied away from her as she seemed to emit light, illuminating the cave far brighter than anything else.

Pitch circled, his grip tight on his scythe as he drew in. "There's nothing you can do now, Sarah," he snarled, each stride bringing him closer, the black sand curling ever closer. "I'm going to make you watch him become mine," he pulled the scythe back to strike, "and then I'm going to have him kill you!" The scythe and all of its terrible weight came down close enough to rip off a patch of Sarah's jeans as she narrowly avoided the strike, scrambling away from the massive weapon.

The thought of Jareth coming after her was more terrifying than Pitch's scythe, however. It would be impossible to fight them both. She had to defeat Pitch, and do it quickly.

If only she was still in the ballroom, and escaping was as easy as breaking a mirror. But this was real, as real as it could be, and there were no mirrors here, or any twirling dancers; only mares and Pitch and this abysmal cave which felt now like a tomb.

Sarah knew she had to take the offensive; there was only so long she could successfully dodge Pitch's attacks, and Jareth did not have the luxury of time. The physical strain was starting to overcome her adrenaline, and she could acutely feel just how long it had been since she had slept, or eaten, or felt safe. It had to end. Sarah was close enough now that Pitch could not use his scythe due to its range. And she lunged.

The nightshade clearly did not expect a frontal attack, much less such a physical one, that he dropped his weapon altogether, tumbling down onto the uneven ground with Sarah, her elbow aimed to make contact with his throat, her teeth bared. The magic had been too untrusty, too fickle, when right now all she needed was force. Pitch looked shocked, nearly stricken when Sarah sat up, punching him in the face as hard as she could. It might not have been the most effective way of dispatching the shade, but it sure was satisfying. His cold hands came up to grab her arms, and she knew she did not have long before the black sand enveloped her too. His fury was palpable as he tried to push her down, Sarah barely managing to stay upright.

Then Pitch was on top of her, snarling, and Jareth's pained shout was all she heard as forced her hands into his face, her thumbs at his eye sockets as Sarah screamed, and then the green light poured from her again, the heavy pendant pulsing at her breast like a second heartbeat as Pitch screamed, the rays of light piercing everything. He clawed at her hands, still clutched desperately to his skull, but she held on, enduring the harsh rakes of his nails as his mares began panicking, then racing into each other, and finally crashing into the walls as they disappeared. They were alone, Pitch's body pressing closer and heavier as the screaming echoed and Pitch's flesh fell away and Sarah did not want to look at what was wet against her hands, running down her arms, the sensation too horrifying and Sarah was sure she would never forget how terrible the sensation was. And then he was gone, Pitch's crushing weight disappearing from over her.

He was surely dead, but there was no body where he once lay; only an exhausted Sarah ready to collapse.

It would have been more reassuring if there was a body.

But Pitch was gone, with no evidence of his sand or mares, and it would have to be enough.

Jareth was at Sarah's side at once, weak but no longer infected, his concerned face and exhausted expression conveying all he needed to as he wrapped his arms around her weak form, whisking them back to Sarah's apartment.

They were safe, safe as they were ever going to be, and after the long events of the night both Jareth and Sarah collapsed on her full size bed. Jareth had used up the last of his energy to transport them to her apartment. She didn't have the energy to direct him to the futon, and he looked much too exhausted to move, though she had managed in a feeble attempt at normalcy to divest them of their shoes before falling soundly asleep next to him.

There were no dreams this night, or nightmares. Only blissful slumber.