It wasn't a straight vertical drop, instead it was a sloping and curving tunnel coated in dirt and decorated with spider webs, giving him the feeling that he was on a really bad water slide minus the water. And the additional plus was that he was falling after Ludo instead of before, so he wouldn't get squished at the end and should actually have a fairly soft landing. So, on the whole, Dean was counting it as a win.
When the tunnel ended and he landed on his crash mat, he changed his mind.
He rolled off Ludo onto the ground and tried not to heave. He'd thought that Dad was bad, but he was nothing compared to this.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh, baaaaad smeeeeelllllll," Ludo groaned, waving his hand in front of his face.
They were on the bank of what Dean could only assume was the Bog of Eternal Stench. The water was green with an oily scum on top; there were geysers of putrid smell spurting up with disgusting farting noises and smells to rival the time when Sam had eaten some bad chilli.
"Smeeeeeeellll," Ludo repeated, sounding more distressed than before.
Dean put his arm in front of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Nope, pretending it didn't exist didn't make it any better. "Holy shit." Never had the words seemed more appropriate. He did have a high tolerance, he kind of had to, what with digging up decomposing bodies and killing things that sprayed gunk at you, but this went beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. It was about fifty billion times more gross than the grossest toilets he'd ever been in, and that was saying something. He heaved again. The soundtrack really wasn't helping matters. He was a fan of the fart joke, how could he not be, but this was going way too far.
He struggled to his feet and swayed slightly. They were on a thin strip of land that narrowed to a point, presumably where a bridge had spanned the bog to allow travellers to avoid getting their feet wet. There was no bridge there now, which could cause problems, but there was something seemingly standing guard at the point at which it would have been.
"Come on, Ludo," Dean choked out as he staggered towards the figure in the distance. Ludo repeated his new refrain as he followed behind and Dean tried not to breathe through his nose or hear the noises around him. As they got closer to the figure, he started to realise that it was a dog dressed up like one of the Three Musketeers, sitting on the top of a fluffy white sheep dog. The 'musketeer' dog had a rapier stretched out in front of it, as if in warning.
He started to wonder whether the dog was a statue, but when they were almost upon it and it hadn't moved, he realised that it was worse. The dogs were real, but frozen in place – possibly dead and stuffed.
"Broottther," Ludo moaned, sniffing slightly at the musketeer dog's head.
"You knew him, Ludo?" Dean absently asked as he walked over to the edge of the land. There were large rocks at stepping intervals across the bog in place of the bridge. Something about that niggled at his memory, but he couldn't place it, so he dismissed it with a shrug. The important thing was that they should be able to cross without stepping in the disgusting muck.
"Diddymus broottther."
Dean turned around and walked back to the dogs. He gave Ludo another gentle pat on the shoulder.
"I know the feeling."
Feeling slightly more sacrilegious than normal, Dean gently pulled the rapier out of the dog's tightly clenched hand/paw, while Ludo growled and glared at him.
"I like it just as much as you do," Dean said sternly, "but we need it." He raised his eyebrows. "To kill Jareth, remember?"
Ludo bared his teeth once and then looked down.
"Come on."
Dean stepped down carefully on the first rock to a chorus of multiple farting noises. It held steady, so he moved forward to the next rock. The farts were a different pitch.
"Great, musical farts," he muttered, twisting slightly to see whether Ludo was following him. He was cautiously reaching down to the first rock, a disgusted expression on his face. The next few rocks proved to be different notes again, but the last two were repeats of earlier. It almost sounded like Smoke on the Water. Dean stopped on the opposite bank and waited for Ludo, who used his tail to keep his balance.
The landscape quickly changed from swamp to forests, a dimly lit path winding through the trees. Stormy clouds had moved in, looking apocalyptic against the red sky. Dean's stomach grumbled loudly.
"Hunnngry," Ludo said, rubbing his own stomach.
"You and me, both," Dean agreed, longingly thinking of his burger back in the real world. It was starting to turn into the perfect burger in his mind; despite the fact that it had only been lukewarm by the time he'd gotten it back to their motel room and the bun was probably soggy. A root tripped him up and Ludo grabbed his arm before he could fall.
"Thanks," Dean said as he regained his balance. When Ludo let go, he resisted the urge to rub his arm. The walking carpet had a very strong grip.
The forest opened out into a large, sloping meadow, thick with the most bizarre flowers he'd ever seen. They looked like large, midnight black sunflowers with teeth.
"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more," he murmured.
Ludo sniffed the air, looked at the flowers and then looked at Dean. His expression was unsure, and that made Dean feel uneasy. Ludo knew this world and if he was worried there was a reason to be worried.
They walked forward into the meadow and the sunflowers hissed and gnashed their teeth as they passed. None were higher than groin level, but Dean made sure to give them his leg to hungrily look at rather than his groin. He wasn't taking any risks with Dean Junior. Dean Junior was needed. One particularly persistent sunflower grabbed hold of his jeans with its little teeth and wouldn't let go. It yelped when he used the rapier to cut it off at the stem and the others around it moved away from him, hissing louder in agitation or fear. Ludo simply growled at the flowers around him and they instantly gave him space to move.
When they were about half way through the meadow, the ground rumbled and shook beneath their feet. Dean stumbled, but kept his balance.
"What the hell was that?"
He turned around, searching for what had caused the earth tremor. Earthquakes seemed like too easy an answer – nothing had been that simple in this place. At least there wasn't any sand; giant sandworms would be just too much to deal with at this point. There was nothing that he could see.
"Goddamnit, show yourself, whatever you are."
The earth shook again.
"Please don't let it be a T-Rex," he pleaded half-seriously. The pig-sticker he'd borrowed from the dog wouldn't do much against a frigging dinosaur.
There was another shudder, harder and louder than the previous, and a scaly head popped up over the rise, followed by a gigantic body, wings and a forked tail.
"Okay." He tilted his head to the side. "Dragon really not much better." Thinking about it, it was essentially a dinosaur with wings, which, really, was a lot worse than an unwinged dinosaur. "Crap." The thing was sucking in air. "Down!" he yelled at Ludo, diving to the ground and flattening a few evil sunflowers in the process. Every sore muscle and scratch or cut on his body protested his treatment of it. There was a blast of hot air above him, thankfully high enough that it wouldn't singe his back. "Do I have an 'incinerate me, please' sign on my back, or something?" he grumbled.
There was a great sweep of wind that stank of sulphur as the shadow of the dragon passed overhead and drowned out what little sun there was. He stayed down, not wanting to give it another chance for a flame-throwing lesson. "Don't suppose the dragon is your friend, huh?" he shouted over to Ludo, who he was relieved to see was also flat on the ground.
Ludo shook his head. "Dwaagon noot fwwieeend."
"Well, this should be interesting then." Dean twisted around on the ground, trying to see what direction the dragon had gone. He couldn't see it anywhere; there was no speck in the sky that could be it and the surrounding sunflowers were too high to really allow him to check the ground. Of course, even then, if it found a slight hollow to land in he'd have trouble seeing it, what with the fact that it was black and green and was camouflaged nicely by the flowers. He'd have to look for the glowing red eyes.
Even if he spotted it, there was the little matter of what to do. There was nothing on killing dragons in their dad's journal – to him, they'd seemed to fall in the same category as unicorns and vampires. For a non-existent creature, this one definitely seemed very real, but then vampires were real and Dad never thought to include that bit of information either.
He didn't much like the odds of being able to outrun an animal with wings, so that wasn't really any option. Shooting it wouldn't work, unless it was allergic to fluffy pink balls, and the rapier or knife probably wouldn't make much of an indent unless he could find the right point – which would rely on luck rather than skill. It seemed like the best option, though, particularly if he could get Ludo to help distract it.
After checking whether he could see the dragon again, he crawled over to where Ludo was lying on the ground.
"You think you can distract the dragon so I can try to kill it?" Dean asked. Ludo nodded, so Dean handed him the unloaded, rather battered, shotgun. "Hit it with this. Just don't let it hurt you."
Dean scrambled to his feet, Ludo following, and searched all around for the dragon. He finally spotted a red pair of eyes above some of the evil sunflowers, who were weaving to and fro in agitation. Sensing that the gig was up, the dragon rose up from its crouch and started stomping forward, producing the mini-earthquakes that Dean had felt earlier. Its wings were slightly extended, helping it keep its balance and making it look like some sort of giant, flame-producing, awkward, baby bird. One wing was shorter than the other, like someone had cut it off at the joint, which probably explained why it hadn't taken to the air again. It wouldn't get much height or have much manoeuvrability with such uneven wings and it probably required a lot of effort to stay in the air.
As it got closer, Dean bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. When he deemed it close enough, he dodged to the side and ran forward to its flank. It slowed a little, seemingly in confusion, allowing Dean to grab on to its tail and climb high enough that the swishing back and forth wasn't a problem. There were large ridged Mohawk-like plates going all the way from its tail up to its head, providing convenient hand holds for his ascent. When he'd reached the bottom of its long neck, it let out an annoyed shriek and stepped sideways, throwing its head around wildly. He grabbed on tight with both hands, trying to stop himself from being thrown. He didn't particularly want to end up with a broken neck after all he'd been through today.
There was a roar that sounded like it had come from Ludo and the dragon shook its head once again.
"Looks like Ludo's doing his job a little too well," Dean gasped, clinging to its neck. The way it was going, he wouldn't be able to get any higher, but its hide felt thick enough that he wouldn't be able to do much damage to its neck where he was. "Oh, boy," he murmured, before starting a slow shimmy towards its head, keeping a tight grip with either his legs or his hands at all times.
When he finally reached its head, he saw the cause of its agitation. Ludo had somehow attached himself to its snout, one hand holding on tight by a grip in its nostril and the other bashing its nose with the shotgun. Dean almost laughed; the expression on the thing's face was so comically shocked and uncertain of how to get rid of its irritating passenger. The dragon's eyes narrowed, and Dean both felt and heard a rumbling.
"Oh, crap." Dean quickly pulled the knife out of his boot and plunged it in the dragon's forehead, hoping to distract it from its idea. He really didn't want Ludo to turn into a crispy critter. It roared in pain, loosening Ludo's grip and forcing him to shove the shotgun up its other nostril as he grabbed hold with his other hand. The rumbling had increased in volume to such an extent that it seemed like an eruption was imminent. "Ludo, drop!" Dean shouted. Ludo did, seeming to push the shotgun further into the dragon's nostril, causing it to draw in a breath, where it normally would have let out a firey one. The two lots of air met and there was a moment of silence in which Dean jumped for his life. As he rolled to a rather painful stop on the ground, there was a boom behind him, the smell of burnt meat and a spray of something disgustingly wet.
He looked back to see a half burnt out carcass where the dragon had been. A snort escaped him at the absurdity of it all. Ludo had just defeated a dragon by shoving a shotgun up its nose. It was completely insane. Quickly gaining control of himself, he wiped the bloody knife off on his jeans and shoved it back into his boot before looking around for Ludo. The fuzzball was sitting on the ground, about twenty feet away from the dragon, with a shocked expression on his face.
Dean stood up, limping more on his clawed up and now quite possibly sprained ankle, and searched around the headless dragon for the rapier he'd dropped. With an 'ah' he picked up the gore covered weapon – the dragon sure had sprayed everywhere when it went kablooey – and made his way over to Ludo.
"You okay?" Dean asked the still dazed looking creature, resting his hand on Ludo's shoulder.
Ludo looked up at Dean. "Dwaagon deeaad," he said mournfully.
Dean grimaced slightly. As much as Ludo had been ready to kill Jareth, the reality of actually killing something for the first time was always more devastating then what you'd ever thought it would be. He patted Ludo's shoulder, not really knowing what to say. "You did good, Ludo." The 'we would be dead without you' went unspoken.
Ludo moaned once more before clambering to his feet and almost falling again.
"Careful, big guy," Dean said, moving in to stop him from face planting and then staggering himself under Ludo's weight and groaning at the pain in his own ankle. After a minute, Ludo straightened himself and stood steadily. "Okay?" Dean asked.
"Okaay," Ludo agreed.
They set off at a brisk walk through the meadow, circling wide around the dead dragon and avoiding the sunflowers that hissed the most. They didn't seem too appreciative of the death of all their friends under the dragon's carcass. It didn't take them long to reach the rise where they had first seen the dragon and Dean almost whooped with joy when he looked down. The ground sloped away to reveal the walls of the goblin city. They were almost there.
As much as Dean wanted to run, they kept to a slow jog as they approached the city. His body had taken enough battering and even moving as slowly as they were hurt his ankle, sent fire through his arm and made his head throb. He'd just about kill for a hot shower, some food and painkillers.
There was a gate into the city right in front of them, guarded by a sleeping figure in armour. Dean put his finger in front of his lips, gesturing for quiet, and circled to the side away from the guard. The wall wasn't very high, so it would be easier to take a more circumspect route into the city then through a gate. He didn't want to telegraph his arrival to Jareth this early. When Dean was happy that they were far enough away from the guard not to be heard, he stopped.
"Think you can climb-"
Ludo started scaling the wall before Dean finished his sentence, in no time reaching the top.
"Right," Dean said. "What was I thinking? Of course you can."
Ludo turned around, braced himself on the wall, and extended one long arm down to Dean. Dean jumped, grabbed some decent handholds and pulled himself up enough that he could grab Ludo's hand. From there, it only took seconds to climb to the top. By avoiding the gate, they didn't have to go through or over two walls, thereby reducing their chance of detection. Dean really didn't want to have made it through every other obstacle in the Labyrinth only to get caught out at the last minute. He didn't save Sam at such a high price, didn't make a deal with a bitch from hell, only to let Sam be turned into a plaything for an 80s has-been.
Within minutes, they were both prowling down a street of the goblin city. It was quiet and deserted, awash with rubbish and debris. The goblins certainly weren't in to beautifying their city; that was for sure. It was actually worse than any dump that Dean could remember staying in, and even some literal dumps he'd had to dive in. Considering the Goblin King's style of dress, you'd think that he wouldn't allow his city to get into such a state. The man obviously had no pride.
The street plan was haphazard, so it took a while to get to the castle in the centre of the city, if you could call a building in as bad a condition as the rest of the city a castle. They hadn't been discovered; the occasional group of goblins that they had avoided hadn't been moving with any sense of purpose or urgency. It had almost been too easy to avoid being seen.
Two giant metal doors, chained to the walls beside them, blocked the entrance to the castle. Dean leant against one of them, but it didn't budge. Ludo pushed hard on both doors and they fell open, revealing a narrow, arched hallway and more candles than even a goth chick could possibly want.
A shout came from behind them, and Dean whirled around to see a large group of goblins.
"Oh, crap." The goblins had spears and axes in comparison to Dean's measly knife and rapier. "Ludo," he started, but didn't have to finish the sentence. Ludo had let out a roar and dove forward into the group of goblins. As Dean watched he picked one goblin up and tossed it against the side of the palace.
Dean stood indecisively for a second, not wanting to leave Ludo behind to deal with the goblins by himself, before turning back and going through the doors. They shut with a clang behind him, blocking out the sounds of the melee outside. He took a deep breath, his entire body thrumming with anticipation, and looked down the long hallway. Jareth wasn't standing in its seemingly endless depths as Dean had almost expected after all the melodrama. There were two other passages leading off the foyer to his left and right. Sam could be at the end of the long hall or either of the passages; there was no helpful sign that said 'Jareth and Sam this way'. He probably wouldn't trust it if there was.
But, then, there was something better than a sign; he heard voices – one of them sounding like Sam's – coming from the passageway to his right. He glanced around, making sure there was nobody sneaking up on him, before walking down the short passage, the rapier at the ready. He reached a flight of stairs and climbed them cautiously. The corridor turned at the top step, blocking his view of any dangers. He paused and slowed his breathing down, listening for anything that suggested that someone or something was around the corner. There was nothing, other than the voices, which seemed closer. He could definitely make out both Sam and Jareth's voices, but not their words. Sam was still alive. He shoved his relief at that revelation aside and poked his head around the corner. There was a doorway a few feet along the corridor, bright, flickering light shining out of it.
Dean slid along the wall, each footfall cautious, until he was beside the doorway. He stared at the wall opposite, centring himself, before smoothly turning and entering the room, rapier at the ready.
"Hello, Dean," Jareth crooned, smiling smugly at him.
Dean stood still in shock, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. Not after everything he'd done, everything he'd gone through. Not with all that he'd sacrificed; this couldn't be happening. It couldn't. It wasn't fair. For years he'd never even been able to think the words, let alone say them. Not until… They had echoed around his mind, then, getting louder and louder with each pass, ricocheting off 'failure', until he'd reversed it all, erased the words from his mind. He hadn't thought of them once since then, not until now. This was so goddamn unfair.
Jareth stood in the middle of the room, feet planted wide apart, eyes laughing at Dean. Sam stood at Jareth's shoulder, a smile on his face. There was a goblin in the corner, but Dean dismissed it as unimportant. Sam was all that was important.
Sam was dressed in tight leather pants, a frilled white shirt that accentuated every muscle that he had and knee-high girly boots. His hair had been fluffed and teased and his eyes made up with the gold, silver and black that Jareth so seemed to love, making his face seem more angular. Any other time Dean would have been on the floor laughing hysterically at his brother or calling for the brain bleach – the leather pants really left nothing to the imagination – but all he could do was deny what he was seeing. He still had time; there were still seven minutes left on the clock behind them, but Jareth had already claimed Sam.
"You son of a bitch," he ground out, longing to punch out Jareth's grinning face.
"Now, now, Dean," Jareth tutted, "is that any way to talk to your king and prince?"
"Let him go."
Sam stepped forward and Jareth ran a possessive hand up and down his arm. "I rather like him," he said quietly as Dean seethed. "I'm not quite ready to give him up, or you, for that matter." He returned his gaze to Dean, looking him up and down with an intensity that made Dean very uncomfortable. Jareth stepped away from Sam, walking back towards his throne. "You see, your brother made a deal. He gives himself to me, I let you live and that year never rolls around."
Dean stared at Sam, not willing to believe it. He wouldn't do something so stupid.
"He saved-" Jareth savoured the word, "-your pathetic little life."
"Sam wouldn't do that," Dean denied, trying to see a hint of duplicity in Sam's face, a reason for this to be a charade.
Sam finally spoke. "What, you're the only one who gets to sacrifice himself in this family? I did this for you, Dean." Sam shook his head, his voice firm. "I'm not going to lose you."
"And this is your great and masterful plan?" Dean burst out, waving his left hand around. "This? Becoming one of the bad guys, throwing away everything that we've fought for? I can't believe it. I… This isn't you, Sam."
"I'm just doing what you would have done if it had been the other way around."
If it had been the other way around, if he'd had to compromise who he and Sam were to save Sam, would he have done it? He didn't even have to think. "No," he said sadly. "No, I wouldn't have."
"What a touching reunion," Jareth said dryly. "I-" He stopped speaking, turning slightly towards his throne as if puzzled by something that Dean couldn't see. Then something moved behind Jareth and there was a thick chain wrapped around the man's neck, pulling him backwards. Sam flickered out of existence and reappeared behind Jareth, attached to the hands holding the chain in place, leaving Dean trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
"Dean!" Sam bellowed.
He reacted automatically, rushing towards the struggling Goblin King and stabbing the rapier through his heart. He grunted in satisfaction at the shocked look in Jareth's eyes and the blood running down his chin. Jareth's limbs jerked to a stop and Sam let him slide out of his arms and onto the floor. A kick to the ribs proved that he really was dead and was rather cathartic for Dean.
"Dean," Sam repeated, his voice filled with wonder this time, gesturing to something behind him.
Dean turned and saw that where the goblin had been before, there was now a small blonde haired boy, crawling around on the dirty floor. They heard running footsteps in the corridor and Dean raised the rapier defensively. A teenage girl appeared in the doorway and frantically shouted, "Toby," before running over to pick up the child. The instant that he was in her arms they both faded from sight.
"Was that Sarah?" Sam asked shakily.
"I guess it was," Dean replied, wonder filling his voice. He hoped that they'd go back to their own time and that Sarah would be able to put this place behind her. She didn't deserve to be haunted by everything she had seen, and what Jareth had done, for the rest of her life.
"Jareth said that she didn't make it through in time, but I didn't really believe him, thought he was just trying to psych me out, you know? She's probably been searching for her brother all this time." Sam smiled slightly. "And we freed her."
Sam sat back down on the raised floor beside the throne, letting the chain, which Dean now saw was attached to it, slacken and fall down. Dean coughed slightly and looked away. The real Sam was dressed exactly the same as the illusion had been and sitting enlarged all sorts of things that required more brain bleach.
"Jesus, Sam," he said, still fervently not looking at his brother. "Can't you do something about that?" He waved in the direction of Sam's lap, glanced at Sam and then had to look away again. There was a rustling of fabric and when he looked back, Sam had somehow arranged the sleeves on the shirt to hide the offending body part.
"This isn't what it looks like," Sam snapped, a bitch-face in full force, playing havoc with his make up.
"What, you're not Jareth's bitch?" Dean snorted, tried in vain to control himself, and snorted again, before just letting the laughter out.
"Very funny, Dean," Sam replied in a tone that implied it was not funny at all. When Dean had tapered off to sniggering, he added, "Anyway, you're the one who Jareth's been mooning over, not me. He practically drooled when your shirt shrunk."
"Well, what can I say?" Dean said cockily. "He had to have some taste, I'll give him that." He grinned widely at Sam, enjoying the annoyed huff that Sam let out, before letting his gaze wander around the room. It matched everything else that he'd seen: dirty and neglected. "I'd have thought that we'd be back in the motel by now."
"Maybe we would be if you'd unchain me." Sam arched an eyebrow and held his hands up slightly. "My paperclip is in my other pants." A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Dean returned it. Half a minute later, Sam was free and rubbing his wrists. Two seconds after that, they were sitting on the bed in the motel, Cary Grant tied to a chair on the flickering TV screen. Dean looked across at Sam, who was still dressed as a Jareth groupie, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. A moment later he had a lasting memory of the whole experience and blackmail material for the rest of Sam's life.
"Hey!" Sam yelled indignantly, grabbing for the phone. Dean quickly moved it out of his reach, putting it back in his pocket where Sam wouldn't dare to try and get it.
"Dean, give it."
Dean shook his head. "I fought the Blinding Eye for you. This is my payment."
"Fine." The word was grudgingly given with a put upon sigh. Dean had no doubt that Sam would do whatever it took to delete the photo off the phone, so the minute that he could, he was going to email the photo to himself. The phone wouldn't leave his sight until he had done so.
He shifted slightly on the bed, groaning as his ankle protested the movement. Sam's eyebrows did the whole worried thing, as Dean spotted something very important.
"You better let me have a look at you."
"In a minute," Dean replied, honing in on his target. He took a large bite of his now definitely cold burger and sighed ecstatically. "Ths 's hefen." Another bite quickly followed, before he had completely swallowed the first one, and Sam stared at him in that 'my brother is a pig' way that Sam did so well. "Wha?"
A shake of Sam's head was his only reply. Sam got off the bed, walking rather stiffly, and pulled a pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of his bag. Dean sniggered around his burger as Sam nearly fell over pulling the knee-high boots off and then walked into the bathroom, closing the door with a resounding thump. A high-pitched yelp, the sound of breaking glass and a thud a moment later had him spraying his burger everywhere.
"Not funny, Dean!" came the yell from the bathroom.
Yeah, Dean wouldn't wish his brother away for anything. It was too much effort getting him back.
THE END