Dawn didn't let him finish before she slammed a notebook and a wrinkled piece of paper on his desk. "Something's happened to Andrew. Something bad."
Giles pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "What makes you think that?"
"I found this note telling me good-bye because he's leaving with another group of hell-jumping Watchers."
"Dawn, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's true," Giles told her, his tone soft. "They left a few hours ago, and Andrew worked it so I wouldn't know he was with them until it was too late. I'm sorry. I would've stopped him if…"
"No, Giles, that's not it," Dawn said, shaking her head. "Andrew didn't write this letter."
Giles sat up straighter at that. "What? Are you sure?"
"Positive," Dawn replied. "This isn't his handwriting. I didn't think it was when I read the letter, but then I compared it to the handwriting in the notebooks he kept on the Key, and it's totally different. Look."
Giles picked up both the letter and the notebook and made a quick inspection of them, seeing that Dawn was indeed correct. He then reached across his desk and grabbed a piece of paper, comparing it to the two handwriting samples he had in front of him. "Dawn, this paperwork that Andrew supposedly filled out before leaving, it doesn't match the notebook either. It matches the letter."
At that, Dawn felt herself on the verge of panicking, but she knew she had to hold it together. If her suspicions were correct and Andrew really was in trouble, then she wouldn't be doing him any good by breaking down. "I'm going to go by his flat, see if I can find anything there," Dawn said. "Giles, you find out what you can about this mission he supposedly went on—if anyone actually saw him or saw who turned in this paperwork."
Giles nodded. "I'll do that now. And Dawn, be careful. If what's happened is some sort of foul play, you could very well be putting yourself in danger by investigating it."
"I know," Dawn replied. "But I'm going to do it anyway."
"I know you are. And I wouldn't try to stop you," Giles told her. "Just do be careful."
"I will," Dawn promised. "I'll come back here when I'm done, let you know if I found anything."
"All right. Good luck, Dawn."
"You, too."
*** *** ***
After standing in the hallway for several minutes and beating on the door loud enough to wake the dead, Dawn came to the conclusion that no one was home and that she therefore had every reason to break in.
She pulled a hairpin out of her pocket then knelt down, working the thin piece of metal in the lock until the door popped open. "Thanks, Spike," she said softly to herself as she walked in, pocketing the hairpin as she did.
The flat was sparsely decorated beyond what Dawn recognized as standard Council furnishings, and she decided to go to the bedroom, see if she could find any traces of Andrew still being there. The only clothes she found in the closet were obviously Cynthia's, and Dawn cursed under her breath.
As she continued to look around the room, she found no traces of Andrew still being there at all, and she felt her heart sink with the fear that maybe he really had left. Maybe the handwriting wasn't actually as different as she thought it was, and it was just her mind playing tricks on her, trying to keep her from having to deal with the idea that Andrew really had left her again.
Then something caught her eye. There was a piece of paper laying on the desk by the window, and when Dawn picked it up, she realized that the handwriting on it matched the handwriting from the letter. And it wasn't Andrew's.
It was Cynthia's.
Dawn's fear began to transfer into anger as she read what was written on the paper, and she left the apartment with a firm determination to find Cynthia and make her hurt.
*** *** ***
Andrew supposed he shouldn't have been all that surprised that his fiancée turned out to be insane. After all, she had agreed to marry him. That alone was probably grounds for being committed.
He was surprised, however, and just how psychotic she seemed to be. He'd never expected her to respond to their break-up by attacking him in his office, hitting him with tranquilizers, and then chaining him up in a cave, but she had. And from that came the question of why they were in a cave and how they'd gotten there in the first place. There weren't exactly a plethora of those in London proper, especially not with the otherworldly feel that this one had.
Andrew had a bad feeling about this.
"You're awake, my love?"
Andrew looked up at Cynthia, but didn't say anything. He only had one thing running though his mind anyway, and he didn't think that asking Cynthia how exactly she'd gotten so freaking insane was really going to help his situation much.
"You don't have to worry," Cynthia said, walking over to Andrew and putting her hand against his chest. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just have to make sure you stay here, that's all. I'll let you out of those chains when it's over, and I know you won't leave me."
Andrew swallowed. Somehow, that didn't make him feel in the least bit comforted. "When what's over?"
"The ritual, of course," Cynthia replied with a wave of her hand, as if Andrew should know exactly what she was talking about.
"What ritual, Cynthia?"
"The one that will make me strong." Cynthia moved her hand from Andrew's chest to his face and stroked his cheek. "But don't worry, my darling. I'm going to forgive you for trying to leave me for that other woman. When I'm powerful, I'll let you be at my side. Of course, she'll have to die, but you'll get over that soon enough. I'll see to it."
Andrew swallowed hard. Apparently he'd still been underestimating the level of Cynthia's insanity. "Cynthia, please, just tell me. What are you planning to do?" Andrew hoped that whatever her plan was, she'd just go ahead and play Bond villain and tell him outright. He wasn't sure what good it would do him really when he was chained to the wall of a cave, but it had to be better than going on no information at all.
She was forthcoming, though the answer she gave him didn't make anything better. It chilled him to the bone. "I'm going to join with the essence of the Key."
"Cynthia, listen to me," Andrew pleaded with her. "You can't do that."
"I have to," Cynthia told him, her gaze coming up to meet his. Had her eyes always had that wild look in them? Andrew couldn't remember now. "Do you know why I took that mission, why I let myself be sent into Hell? For power. I was tired of always being weak. I knew if I went there, if I looked hard enough, I could find something, something to make me strong. Can't you of all people understand that? I saw what you were like when we went in, Andrew, and I can see you now. Isn't that what you wanted, too? Didn't you want to be strong?"
Andrew shook his head. "Not like that, Cynthia. I didn't want to do anything like what you're doing. I've tried in the past. I tried to gain power for myself, and all it did was get people killed."
"I don't care about that. I understand sacrifices have to be made, and I'm willing to make them to get what I want."
Her words made Andrew feel sick. He could hardly believe this was even Cynthia, that he'd been this blind to what had really been going on in her mind. All this time, she'd been plotting, searching for a way to gain power for herself—and she was going to kill Dawn to do it.
"Where is the Key now, Cynthia?" Andrew asked her, trying to gauge how far along she was into this plan of hers. Maybe he could channel Harry Houdini and actually get out of there in time to stop it…
"That's where you're going to help me," Cynthia informed him. "I've been looking for it, but I can't seem to get a handle on it. Something's blocking me. I'm so close, though. I know I am. But you—I saw you keeping all those notebooks, how much research you'd done. I'd read what I could when you were asleep, but you're such a light sleeper, I never got as much of a look as I wanted. You studied the Key so closely, that you must know how to find it. Tell me what I need to do, and I'll share the power with you. I will. Just tell me how. Surely, with all that research you've done, you must be interested in it as well. Don't you want the Key, Andrew?"
Andrew noted the hint of irony in Cynthia's question. He did want the Key—just not anywhere near the way she meant. "I can't tell you how to find the Key, Cynthia. And even if I could, you can't do what you're planning. I do know more about the Key than you do, and I can tell you now that its power has never been able to be harnessed in the way you're intending. If you could manage to merge with the essence of the Key, it wouldn't stay with you, and when it left, you'd be either completely insane or dead."
"No. You're wrong," Cynthia told him, shaking her head. "The power will be mine, and it will stay mine." She cupped Andrew's cheek again. "You don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine, I know I will. So just tell me how to find the Key."
Andrew jerked away from her the best he could in the chains. "I'm not worried about you. If you were the only person at risk here, I'd say fine. Go ahead and do what you want, and if it leaves you dead, then it's what you asked for."
Cynthia reared back. "That's really how you feel? After everything we've been through together? And why? Because of her? Is she that much better than me?"
"Well, she's not psychotic. That's a plus," Andrew replied.
Cynthia moved further away from him. "Fine. If that's the way you're going to be, then I'll simply have to find a way to persuade you. How about this? I find your precious Dawn, bring her here, and torture her until you tell me how to find the Key. Would that make you talk?"
There was that irony again… Cynthia had already expressed a desire to kill Dawn, so Andrew didn't trust her not to hurt Dawn if he told her how to find the Key. And beyond that, if he did tell her where the Key was, then she'd be going after Dawn anyway. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't. "Cynthia, don't. Just leave Dawn out of this."
"Then tell me how to find the Key!"
"I can’t!" Andrew pulled uselessly at his chains. It had been a long time since he'd felt this helpless, and he fought back the tears that threatened to spring forth. They wouldn't do him any good. "Cynthia, please, just stop all of this. You won't get what you want anyway, and people will get hurt."
"I will!" Cynthia screeched as she reared back and slapped Andrew hard. She stepped back again, shaking her head. "I thought you'd understand. But you don't. You're not the person I thought you were at all."
"I could say the same thing about you," Andrew told her.
"It doesn't matter anymore. I'll have what I want, and if you aren't willing to be by my side, then I'll find someone who is, someone who does understand."
"Cynthia, please, just don't do this," Andrew pleaded with her again, though he knew it was hopeless. There was no way he could reason with someone in the state she was in.
Cynthia shook her head. "I'm going to do this. You're wrong when you say I can't. So I'm giving you one more chance to tell me how to find the Key, and then I'm going to hurt her. Is that what you want? Do you want me to hurt Dawn?"
"No. Please, just leave her alone."
"Then tell me how to find the Key."
"I can't!" Andrew yelled at her, his frustration overwhelming him.
"Then I'll get her, and I'll make you tell me," Cynthia said, her tone almost a growl. She closed her eyes and chanted softly until a bright light appeared and she disappeared in a flash.
Andrew stared at the spot where she had just been, a new wave of hopelessness washing over him. From the way Cynthia had left, he knew she must've taken him to another dimension, though he had no idea which one—or how to get out. And that was without factoring in that he was still chained to a wall.
He tugged at his chains until he finally accepted the fact that he wasn't going to pull himself loose, and slumped in despair.
*** *** ***