BtVS: "The Ransom of Andrew Wells"
Title: The Ransom of Andrew Wells
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Timeline/Spoilers: Takes place during and immediately after “The Girl in Question.” Spoilers like whoa for that episode.
Summary: Andrew is kidnapped, and Dawn has to decide whether she really wants him back.
The Ransom of Andrew Wells“It looked like a good thing: but wait till I tell you. We were down South, in Alabama-Bill Driscoll and myself-when this kidnapping idea struck us. It was, as Bill afterward expressed it, 'during a moment of temporary mental apparition'; but we didn't find that out till later.”-O. Henry, “The Ransom of Red Chief”
“[Italy] is a civilized country. We do these things all the time. Somebody gets kidnapped, somebody pays the money. Everybody goes home happy. Grazie. Prego. Kiss-kiss.”-Ilona Costa Bianchi, “The Girl in Question”
There weren’t many ways in which Rome and Sunnydale were all that similar, but there was certainly a couple of big ones. They were both full of churches and cemeteries.
Dawn watched as her Slayer, Beatrice, made her way towards a vamp, silently sneaking up on him. Just as she reached him, Dawn’s cellphone began to vibrate, and the vampire turned around, alert. Beatrice plunged her stake into his heart, and the ash fell to the ground.
Dawn pulled out her cellphone and checked the number. “Andrew, we’re on patrol,” she told the person on the other end.
“I know, Dawn, it’s just that-well, Angel and Spike were just here.”
Dawn signaled for Beatrice to come closer, so that Dawn wouldn’t be attacked by some random vamp while she was distracted by the phone. “What did they want?”
“They were looking for Buffy.”
Of course they were looking for Buffy. “Well, where is Buffy?”
“Out with the Immortal.”
“Well, I’d recommend you not be around when the four of them come together,” suggested Dawn. “They’re big boys; they can take care of themselves.” Dawn hung up and returned the cell phone to the holder at her waste. Beatrice was watching her, intently. “What?” she asked.
“‘Big boys’?” asked Beatrice with a smile, repeating Dawn’s words in her own accented English.
“Angel and Spike,” Dawn explained. “Buffy’s ex-boyfriends.” At that moment, three vamps jumped out from behind a mausoleum (Rome really was just like Sunnydale in some ways), and Dawn had to go for her stake as she and Beatrice fought them off.
“The famous vampires with souls?” Beatrice asked as she jammed a stake into a vamp’s heart. “Doesn’t Buffy believe one of them is dead?”
“She does,” agreed Dawn, as she parried a blow from the vamp in front of her. “And that the other one is involved in some evil, horrible plot. But that’s their problems. I refuse to get involved”-and here she staked the vamp-“in my sister’s love life.”
A gold-bladed knife fell to the ground.
When things don’t dust with the vamp, that’s always a good sign that they are important somehow. Beatrice picked it up, examined it, and then handed it to Dawn.
Luckily, the insignia on the hilt, seven-pointed star inscribed within a triangle, was pretty recognizable. Not to mention there aren’t all that many knifes with blades made out of gold. It’s too soft a metal for use in most weapons.
“We need to get this to Giles,” Dawn said at once. “It’s a Claw of Kryverii.”
* * * * *
“The Claws of Kryverii,” Dawn explained to Beatrice and Andrew once they had returned to the apartment, “are four magical edged weapons, each with a blade of gold: a knife, a sword, a halberd, and a throwing dagger. Individually, each Claw is a powerful magical instrument, but the true danger is in having all four weapons brought together in one place. Only then can the summoning spell be cast which will call the Kryverite forth from her hell.”
“The Kryverite?” Beatrice asked, uncertain.
“One of the powerful pureblooded demons that was expelled from this dimension before recorded history,” Andrew chimed in helpfully.
“So we have to make sure this knife doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Beatrice, you and I are going back out and finish your patrol, see if we can find any of the other Claws, see if someone is trying to bring them together. Andrew I want you to take the knife to Giles. I’ll make the arrangements for you to catch the train tomorrow and see that you aren’t stopped by customs. In the meantime, do not let the knife out your sight. Capisce?”
Andrew nodded. “Understood.”
* * * * *
“Has Buffy been acting off?” Spike asked. “Like The Immortal's got her under a spell of sorts?”
“Excellent question,” Andrew answered, slipping off into the bathroom. “No.”
“Could it be mind control?” Angel suggested.
“Or a love potion?” Spike added. “Did she drink a love potion?”
“Dude, seriously,” Andrew said as he began to change into his tuxedo. “I thought of all those things, but turns out Buffy fell for the Immortal on her own, and now she's happy. That's it.”
Of course, there was no way the vampires were going to give up that easily. They were like Mulder and Scully continuing to investigate, knowing that the truth was out there. Are Indiana Jones, searching for the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail or whatever it was he was supposed to be looking for in The Temple of Doom and when was Harrison Ford going to make a fourth movie anyway? Or like-
Well, anyway, Angel was going on over something about cookie dough and was he crying?
“No!” answered Spike when he asked. “Not yet.”
“May want to hold the waterworks, big guy,” Andrew said as he pulled on the jacket of his suit. “The Immortal's cool and all, but he ain't all that. He's got his flaws.”
“Really?” asked Angel.
“Wh-what are they?” Spike asked.
Andrew paused. That was a good question. He couldn’t think of anything. “The point is she's moving on. You guys do the same, and you might catch her one day. One of you, anyway. But you keep running in place, you're going to find she's long gone.” Wow, that sounded good.
“It is a bit silly. Us chasing around like a couple of henpecked teenagers.”
Andrew picked up the Claw of Kryverii and slipped in the inside of his jacket. “Buffy loves both of you, but she's got to live her life. People change.” Completely dressed, he reentered the living room where Spike and Angel were waiting. “You guys should try it sometime.”
* * * * *
I swear it was Isabella’s idea. I wasn’t even sure what she had planned at first. We were visiting Rome, and had run into this long-haired blonde boy in a café. The three of us chatted for a while, him mostly making obscure Star Trek references that I knew Isabella couldn’t possibly have gotten, so you could imagine my surprise when she invited him to go to the opera with us that weekend. He was nice and cute, but more my type than Isabella’s.
I didn’t even know we were going to the opera that weekend.
Because we weren’t going to the opera that weekend. We dressed for the opera, and we picked Andrew up at the address he had given us. “Caprice, se bella come la notte,” he said, then turned to Isabella. “Et tu, Isabella. Superi perfino le stelle.” He turned to the other two men in the room, said “Ciao” and we were off to the opera. Or not.
The car was halfway out of Rome before Andrew realized something was wrong. “I don’t think this is the right way,” he offered tentatively.
“Quiescere,” Isabella responded, and Andrew collapsed, unconscious.
“Erm, Isabella?” I said. “I think he’s right. This isn’t the right way to the opera.” Not to mention she had just passed a spell to knock him out, which wasn’t very proper date behavior. Not on the first date, definitely.
“We’re not going to the opera,” she answered.
She took us to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
“Isabella?” I asked, as she began to chain him to the wall. “What are we doing with him?”
“He’s a Watcher,” she answered, as if that explained everything.
* * * * *
Dawn and Beatrice returned to the apartment with another Claw of Kryverii in hand: this time, the throwing dagger. “We’ll give this one to Andrew to take to Giles, too,” Dawn said as she entered her apartment.
Her empty apartment.
Now usually, that wasn’t something she would complain about. Buffy and the Immortal cuddling on the couch was bad enough, and now that Andrew was a permanent houseguest-well, she would take any moment of silence she could find.
“Where is Andrew?” Dawn asked
Beatrice shrugged. “Non so,” she answered with a shrug. “Where did you leave him?”
“Well, he better get on that train today,” Dawn swore. “Preferably after stopping by for this.”
She turned back to Beatrice. “I’m going to wait up for Buffy or Andrew,” she said. “I’ll watch the Claw. You can go back home.”
Beatrice nodded and exited the apartment. Dawn picked up a copy of the Tradëscan Codex and began to read.
It was another hour before Buffy returned, dressed in a sleek cocktail dress. “Did you have a good time?” asked Dawn.
Buffy nodded. “Every time with the Immortal is a good time,” she answered, a smile on her face.
“So,” said Dawn, trying to think of a way to frame her question, “did anything unusual happen tonight?”
“Unusual?” Buffy asked, looking confused. “No, just the usual. Dinner, and dancing, and more dancing, and then-”
“That’s enough,” Dawn said quickly, cutting her sister off. “I get the picture.” Apparently, Buffy hadn’t had the run-in with Spike and Angel that Andrew had been expecting. She made her way to the bedroom, ready to at last retire, when her cell phone began to vibrate once again.
“Dawn Summers,” she answered it.
“Dawn, tesora, it is a pleasure to hear your voice,” the Immortal said. “I trust you had a productive night?”
The Immortal was charming, but Dawn was tired and not exactly in the mood for charm. “What is it you want?” she asked. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, as you well know as you’ve been out entertaining my sister all night.”
“And you can tell your sister I had a wonderful time. But my staff tells me that they had run into two quite interesting fellows: old acquaintances of mine, and I believe friends of you also?”
Spike and Angel, of course. “Where are they now?”
“They have returned to their City of Angels,” the Immortal answered. “They never were ones with much staying power, I am afraid. No wonder they were unable to satisfy my dearest Buffy. Another instance in a pattern of failure.”
“Do you know what they wanted?” asked Dawn. Why, after being in L.A. for months and months, would they suddenly come to Rome with no notice at all?
“The Capo di Famiglia of the Goran clan, I do believe. They wished to return its head to the family so they could perform the necessary rituals?”
“And did they get it?”
“My staff were quite creative in keeping them distracted. They returned to their country quite dejected, I am afraid.”
“If those rituals aren’t performed, that’ll cause a power vacuum to open into the States,” Dawn pointed out. “It’ll start a demon gang war like nothing we’ve-”
“Nothing, you’ve seen, my dear,” the Immortal corrected. “I have seen many things in many years. But do not worry; your interests and mine in this manner coincide. Such a war would do me no good whatsoever. I have already instructed my staff to send the Capo’s head to Wolfram & Hart with my regards. It should be waiting for dear Spike and Angelus once they return.”
“Okay,” Dawn said. She shifted the phone to the other ear as she began to undress, getting ready for bed. “Have you heard anything about the Claws of Kryverii being in Rome?”
“I hear many unpleasant things that a beautiful girl like you should not need to be burdened with.”
“Well, unfortunately, that’s my job,” answered Dawn. “So tell me what you know.”
* * * * *
I was guarding Andrew Wells as he regained consciousness. “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said groggily. “You’re my only hope.”
“Well, I’m afraid Old Ben isn’t going to be all that much of a help to you, I’m afraid,” I told him. “Seeing as he died long ago in a galaxy far away, and all.”
“Far, far away,” Andrew corrected automatically, still only half-awake, and then suddenly seemed to take account of his surroundings. “Where am I?”
“I hardly have a clue myself,” I admitted. “Isabella!” I called. “Your date is awake!”
“He’s not my date,” Isabella insisted as she entered the room. “He’s my hostage.”
“You asked him out,” I pointed out. “Then you got dressed up and picked him up. Sounds like a date to me.”
“It’s a kidnapping,” insisted Isabella. “You don’t get knocked out and chained to a wall on a date.”
“It happens to Xander all the time,” Andrew answered, as if that were all the refutation needed. He looked down at his chains. “Is this a BDSM thing?” he asked. “Because you should really warn for that.”
“Look, Watcher,” Isabella said. “You are going to tell me how to perform the Rituals of Azrael, or else you are going to live just long enough to regret it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes and no,” answered Andrew. “I get you about living just long enough to regret it, but what are the Rituals of Azrael?”
* * * * *
After Dawn woke up that afternoon, she called Giles to ensure that Andrew had arrived and to inform him of what the Immortal had told her. “I’m sorry, Dawn,” he informed her. “But nobody here has seen him. Are you sure he has left Italy?”
“I’ll check with the train station,” Dawn answered. “But Giles, he has a Claw of Kryverii on him. We have to get him-or at least it-back.”
“Agreed. You say that the Immortal claimed that someone is trying to bring together the Claws in order to summon the Kryverite?”
“Alexander Magnus,” Dawn told him. “Dark mage and one of the Immortal’s business rivals. Apparently has a penchant for ending the world.”
“Don’t they all,” Giles commiserated. “Well, Dawn, do what you can to find the Claw. I’ll tell you if we hear anything from here.”
* * * * *
“Wait, we want to find Andrew?” Buffy asked when Dawn briefed her. Beatrice said nothing.
“Yes,” repeated Dawn. “We need to get back the other Claw, which means we need to find Andrew. We’ll start out by checking out this Alexander Magnus guy who’s trying to bring together the four Claws. Buffy, I want you to be a distraction. Make a big commotion, keep the guards busy fighting so that Beatrice can slip through and see if she can find the knife. Do you think you can do that?”
“Please,” answered Buffy. “Piece of cake.”
* * * * *
“The Rituals of Azrael,” Isabella repeated. “Dark rites for the invocation of the Lower Beings?”
“Never heard of them,” Andrew repeated. “Sound pretty scary, though.”
“What kind of Watcher are you?” she asked. “I didn’t think you could get through the first year of the Academy without learning about the Rituals of Azrael.”
“Oh, I never went to the Academy,” answered Andrew helpfully. “I’m sort of a strange case.”
“Merda,” Isabella swore. “Are you good for anything?”
“I make a mean Spanish omelette,” he answered. “And I can get up to level forty-seven on Worlds of Wizardry.”
“Only level forty-seven?” I asked, surprised. “I’m level fifty-two.”
He looked at me, shocked. “Without the cheat codes?” he asked. “How did you beat Gandarf the Magnifluent?”
“Well, first you have to get the Key of Forgetfulness,” I explained, “so that you can fill your canister of holy water at the Lethan Spring-” Isabella shot me a look, and I stopped talking.
“There has to be a way that you can get us what we need,” Isabella said, pacing. “After all, there’s more than one way to skin a Sh’roji catman, and you are a Watcher, even if you don’t know the rituals, and-” She paused. “That’s it,” she said, excitedly. Andrew and I waited for her to say what it was, but she didn’t. “Caprice, do you have your laptop?” she asked me.
I nodded. “It’s in the car.”
“Go get it,” she ordered. “I need you to do some hacking.”
* * * * *
“The Magnus job was a bust,” Dawn informed Giles on her cellphone that evening. “He didn’t have any of the Claws. The knife was going to be the first one, and we caught that en route. So our only lead is gone.”
“Not your only one,” corrected Giles. “Have you checked your email lately?”
“Not yet,” said Dawn, sitting down at her iBook and pulling up her webmail. Sure enough, alongside all the inanities of Council business, there was a message from an address she didn’t recognize:To: dsummers@watcher.gov.uk
From: twodesperateladies@darkrite.it
To Whom It May Concern:
We have your Watcher. If you wish to have him restored to you, please upload a .pdf of the Rituals of Azrael as they appear in the Chronicles of Tagmaurth to upload.darkrite.it. If you comply immediately, your Watcher will be returned to you by nightfall.
“They hacked into the email server through through the British Museum’s interface,” explained Giles. “Everyone in the Council received one of those. All of the rest of our systems seem to be unaffected, luckily.”
“It says it comes from an Italian website,” said Dawn. “Any way of-?”
“We have our people tracing it as we speak,” answered Giles, “but they seemed to be fairly proficient at covering their tracks. ‘Darkrite.it’ seems to be merely the outer shell of a complex system which could send the rituals to anywhere on the planet.”
“The Rituals of Azrael are pretty low-level sorcery,” said Dawn, re-reading the email. “They must not realize that Andrew has a Claw of Kryverii, or else they’d be asking for something more major, like the Dark Fell of Babylon.”
“All the same, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with providing them with any dark rituals, even in exchange for one of the Claws.”
“Understood,” Dawn agreed. “I’ll do what I can to try to get it without giving up the rituals, while keeping that as a back-up plan. See what you can do to get a trace that website.” She paused, then laughed. “They were really expecting us to give them dark rituals in exchange for Andrew?”
* * * * *
“No, you see, there are two types of time travel” Andrew was explaining to me. “There’s the Terminator One type and the Terminator Two type. Just because you can do the T2 type and change the past doesn’t me you can’t do the T1 thing too and have causality loops.”
“But the T2 version creates a paradox,” I countered.
“Well, yeah,” he agreed. “But that’s where you have to think of the timestream from a position outside of time. It can change, but it doesn’t change in time. So it has to change in some other dimension. Warren used to call it ‘sptime.’ You know, for ‘space time?’ But that always sounded silly to me.”
I was about to respond when Isabella walked in and asked “Have they responded?”
“It’s only been a couple hours,” I told her, after checking online to see if the rituals had been uploaded. “Maybe they don’t read their email often.”
“What do you mean, maybe they don’t read their email often?” asked Isabella. “Of course they read their email. Are you sure it arrived?”
“Positive,” I answered. “I used a loop duplicator to-”
“I don’t care how you did it,” she cut me off. “I just care that you did.”
“The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers,” Andrew said.
“Not after we demonstrate the power of this station,” I quoted back.
Isabella groaned. “Caprice, are you sure they haven’t replied back?”
“Certain,” I answered, checking the site one more time just to be sure.
She sighed. “I really want this guy off our hands.”
* * * * *
It was four o’clock when Willow called Dawn.
“Giles asked me to keep in contact with the Council tech guys working on your case,” she told Dawn. “They really have no idea what they’re doing; no wonder these people were able to hack into it. It’s a good thing I installed those mystical wards to protect the deeper systems.”
“So you were you able to trace the website?” Dawn asked her.
“Easy as pie,” Willow answered. “It’s really a front for a site which is a front for a site, but the important thing is I was able to hack in and discover from what IP address it was last modified. Turns out that your kidnappers are working from a wireless connection on the outskirts of Rome. Time to call in the troops, kiddo: it’s slaying time. I’m transferring the location to you now.”
“Thanks, Willow,” Dawn said, right before she hung up to call Beatrice.
* * * * *
“They didn't like Dalton's Bond?" I asked, surprised. It was a darker, edgier Bond, more like the books. What wasn't there to like?
Isabella was sitting in the corner, holding her head in her hands. “Can you stop that?” she asked. “Why can’t you just talk like normal people?”
We ignored her and went back to our conversation, when suddenly three women burst into the room, each one of them holding weapons. “Hey, Buffy. Hi, Dawn. Howdy, Beatrice.”
The woman in the middle, the one who Andrew had called Dawn, stepped forward. “Caprice Valerio and Isabella DiCocci, I am hereby taking you under the custody of the Watcher’s Council of Britain.”
Isabella threw her hands up. “Anything,” she said. “Just get me away from that guy. I can’t take it anymore. Just get me away.”
Beatrice came over to Andrew and knelt down in front of him. Presumably she was a Slayer, because she broke his chains in her hands.
“You know,” Andrew said, turning to me, “we should really try this again sometime.”
I smiled, and slipped my hand into his. “I’d like that.”