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Anya entered the mausoleum. Thankfully, it didn't appear to be in use by any of the living, the dead or the un-dead.
The walls were white and clean, the floor was a beautiful mosaic of tiles that drew the eye, and in the center of the room was a stone sarcophagus. There was nothing else there, so Anya made a beeline for the sarcophagus and lifted the lid.
Nothing. No body, but no portal, either. There was nothing here. She must be in the wrong place.
Anya crossed to the door and stepped out on the stoop. Carved above the door was the name Bogglesworth. She was definitely in the right place. That miserable little goblin had lied to her! When she got her hands on him, he'd wish . . . Wait!
Anya opened the door again, and this time she concentrated on the mosaic floor. There was definitely a pattern there, if you looked closely. Following the pathway that wound back and forth around the mausoleum, Anya finally arrived at the sarcophagus.
This time, when she lifted the lid, she saw a shimmer that could be a portal. She hesitated. She was mortal now, and mortals were very fragile. But if she wanted to get Xander back, she'd have to chance it.
“Time's a'wasting,” she said and, taking a deep breath, she crawled into the sarcophagus.
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Thump! Anya fell through the air and landed on a patch of soft grass. Nothing appeared to be broken, sprained, or otherwise non-functional, so she stood up and brushed herself off. To her left was a large brick wall. She turned to face it. It seemed to go on forever. It had to be the Labyrinth, but where was the entrance?
She looked left, then right, but couldn't see any break in that ominous wall. She did see someone moving around to her right, so she went that way.
The 'someone' wasn't as far away as she had anticipated. He was just short—with a very large head. Ah, a member of the Dwarf race. Just her luck! Dwarves were notoriously cranky and the majority of their lives revolved around jewels: finding them, mining them, looking at them, owning them. Anya appreciated a nice gem as much as the next girl, but for Dwarves, having them was all that interested them. Not wearing them, using them for spells or exchanging them for money—just having them. That meant Dwarves were very boring people, in Anya's opinion.
The dwarf was using a vintage bug-sprayer on a cloud of large insects as Anya approached.
“Hello. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get into the Labyrinth?”
The dwarf ignored her—of course he did. Cranky and rude.
Anya tried again. “Excuse me. I need to get into the Labyrinth. Do you know the way?”
The dwarf continued spraying.
“What are you doing?” Anya asked. Maybe if she could get him talking about himself . . .
A beautiful fairy, no bigger than Anya's hand, fluttered up, her iridescent wings and dress shining in the sunlight. The dwarf aimed at the fairy and missed.
“Here, give me that!” Anya grabbed the bug-sprayer from the dwarf and quickly spritzed the lovely fairy before she could use her razor-sharp teeth to take a bite out of Anya.
With moves worthy of Clint Eastwood, Anya wielded the sprayer. Spritz! Spritz! She turned, the sprayer held low on her hip. Spritz! Spritz! She pumped it and held it at shoulder level, sighting down the barrel. Spritz! Spritz! Spritz! In moments, she had eradicated all those nasty, pesky fairies.
Turning to the dwarf, she grabbed the front of his shirt. “Do you feel lucky? Come on, make my day!”
Shaking in his boots, the dwarf pointed. Anya moved closer to the wall. Aha! There was an entrance. The wall had been created using an optical illusion so you couldn't see the opening unless you knew exactly where it was.
Releasing the dwarf, Anya stepped through the break in the wall.
Hoggle, the dwarf, looked after her adoringly. Now there was a woman!
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Xander was concerned. More than concerned—he was worried. Edging toward downright panic! What had he gotten himself into? What if Anya couldn't rescue him in time? Worse, what if she didn't even try?
He'd been so stressed about the wedding plans, he hadn't been paying much attention to the relationship that was supposed to be the reason for the wedding. What if she didn't want him back? He'd be stuck here forever!
He already missed Buffy and Willow and Anya. Hell, he even missed Spike! And, okay, Jareth was sort of attractive in a 70's-glam-rock-David-Bowie kind of way, but he wanted to go home. Sunnydale might be Hellmouth Central, but it was home.
He'd agree to any color scheme Anya wanted for the wedding, if he could just go home. He'd be willing to wear plaid. He'd wear lavender He'd wear lavender plaid—he'd even wear blood larvae, but he did draw the line at entrails.
Please, Anya, please don't leave me here!
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