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vinniebatmanTitle: Andumbulu, Part One
Author: vinniebatman, written for![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
fall_for_sx.
Fandom: BtVS
Spoilers: Season 7 of BtVS, Season 5 of AtS. Ignores the Buffy comic
Pairings: Spander
Rating/Warnings: Adult for the gay man on man loving! (yay!) Though it's not right away. Oh, and major character death.
Summary: When Xander goes missing in Africa and is feared dead, Dawn and Spike are sent to investigate. What they find is a secret behind the creation of the slayer line.
Teaser: He no longer feared death, but instead welcomed what would be the end of a hard life, filled with pain, injury, death and heartache. At the age of 26, he was broken and tired of life, an old man in a young man's body.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffy characters or any characters or ideas from the film Taafa Fanga.
MAJOR Author's Note: This story was inspired by a film I saw called Taafe Fanga (Skirt Power) from Mali. The film is is very entertaining, but is primarily about women's rights and gender equality. It also featured some of the local Dogon beliefs. The information I have on the Dogon and Tellem cultures comes from wikipedia and the above film. What information I did find was about the basics of the Tellem and Dogon beliefs, but little else. Therefore, the interactions and powers of the Tellem and Andumbulu in this story are creations of my own mind and are, as far as I know, untrue. Aside from the basics of the spirits, all else is fabrication on my part.
A/N 2: All translations are in mouseover, thanks to the lovely Ms.![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
noandwhere. Also, I don't know french that well, so all french translations are from some random online source.
Beta: A million thanks to the wonderful suki_blue. You are beyond awesome!
All Parts Live HERE
* * * * * * * * * *
Xander Harris was dying.
There was no way around it, not this time. Visibly broken bones and the inability to feel his hands or feet assured him of this. There was serious spinal cord damage. He was going to die, and soon. And a large part of himself wasn't even sad about this. He no longer feared death, but instead welcomed what would be the end of a hard life, filled with pain, injury, death and heartache. At the age of 26, he was broken and tired of life, an old man in a young man's body.
He'd been in Mali, searching for a Slayer among the Dogon people. He'd found her in one of the more remote villages. It was rarely visited by tourists, inaccessible enough that it was rather untouched by the outside world. Perched along the cliffs, the village seemed to live in a world all of its own, largely ignored by outsiders. Xander would have left the village quickly, but until the slayer hit puberty, Ambara had to remain in the village. The Dogon lived simply, making their homes in and around the dwellings carved into the sandstone cliffs long ago by the Tellem. The Tellem; Xander wanted to snort at his bad luck, except he couldn't even do that. The Tellem were a group of pygmies who had built the dwellings over five hundred years ago, and were said to have been witches. It was also said that their spirits still haunted the area at night.
Xander knew that a lot of cultures had stories and myths that were used to explain what had once been inexplicable. Yet on a quiet night, Xander could hear drums and chanting from the plains, bonfire flames licking up into the dark flesh of the sky. And in the morning, there would be no foot prints, no ash. So when night fell, the Dogon stayed within the village, and had strongly suggested Xander do the same. Given his experiences in Africa, it seemed to him that while the Dogon's beliefs could just be superstition, they could also be real. And given his experiences in Sunnydale, Xander had no desire to see if the spirits were real.
So he lay on the ground, having fallen from the cliffs, and now the sun was setting. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to focus. He looked up once to see Ambara kissing his forehead, promising to return with help. He faded into the darkness then, and later he opened his eye long enough to see the bright oranges and pinks of sunset cast shadows over the sandstone rocks. He closed his eye. When he opened it again, he could see the stars and faintly hear the sounds of the Tellem dancing and chanting. Reality shifted and slipped away as e closed his eye again. When he next rose toward consciousness, he could hear voices. They chattered in a language he didn't know, the speakers standing just outside his line of vision. He could hear their feet shuffling on the dirt, watching as dust clouds rose. A form appeared in the distence, walking toward him. He couldn't make out the features, but as the figure drew closer he could see that something was wrong with its body. He tried to focus, to listen, but he was just so tired. Exhaustion leeched his resolve, undermining his curiosity. So he closed his eye again. And that was the last time Xander Harris of Sunnydale would look upon the world.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dawn was dead.
Well, at least she would be if she didn't fucking stop humming! Spike loved Dawn, he really did. She was his Niblet, his Platelet. He would die for her, kill for her. But she was driving him fucking insane.
"Shut the fuck up, Dawn!" he finally roared. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her laugh above the noise of the engine. The chaotic turn of events had started a week ago when Xander had suddenly disappeared from Willow's awareness. The Scoobies refused to believe the most likely explanation, that Xander had died. Once the Council had exhausted it's local resources without result, they'd decided to send someone to the village. Fearing that Willow might lose control, Spike and Dawn had been sent to investigate. They'd flown on the Council's private jet from London to Nairobi, and then from Nairobi to a small Mali airport in Mopti. Then they'd rented a battered, old jeep and driven to Bandiagara and the sandstone cliffs where Xander's slayer lived. It was still daylight, so Spike was stuck, curled up in the back seat. After a few more hours, the sun set and Spike took over driving. After another forty minutes, they arrived at their destination, a footpath. Shutting off the jeep, Spike and Dawn climbed out and prepared for their walk to the village Xander had last been at. Like many of the other Dogon villages, the one they sought had been built into the cliff face, isolating them from enemies.
It took almost an hour for them to reach the village nestled against the cliffs, the mud buildings blending in with the sandstone.
"So should we just walk into the village or what? I mean, it might freak them out if they see some lily-white guy with bleach blond hair materializing from nowhere," Dawn pointed out.
"Oi! Hello?!" Spike yelled. He could hear people talking from inside the village.
"I don't think they speak english, Spike," Dawn smirked. Spike glowered at her. Dawn smiled back at him.
"Don't worry your pretty little head, Spike; I'll ask."
"What, you speak Dogon now?"
"No, but most people in Mali either speak French, or know someone who does," she smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Bonjour. Nous cherchons ici notre ami. Il manque."
Spike could hear talking on the otherside of the wall.
"Pourriez-vous répéter que s'il vous plaît?"
Dawn shot Spike a saccharine smile. "Nous cherchons ici notre ami. Il manque."
"Qui cherchez-vous?" the voice asked.
Before Dawn could answer, Spike slapped his hand over her mouth and spoke instead. "Son nom est Xander Harris ; il est d'Amérique."
At Dawn's raised eyebrows, he smirked at her. "What, you think I never learned French?"
A small gate opened and a young girl, no older than twelve, walked out. Tears welled in her dark eyes as she spoke. "Xander est mort et maintenant son esprit demeure avec le Tellem."
* * * * * * * * * *
Inside the village, Dawn and the girl, Ambara, spoke in rapid, hushed tones. Spike stared at the fire, listening as the Dogon slayer told them what happened during Xander's visit. After only a few moments, Spike could tell that Xander should have gone home, away from Africa. The Xander Ambara described wasn't the same Xander from Sunnydale. This Xander was reticent and solitary. He'd seen too much, been alone too much. But he'd done his job, teaching Ambara some rudimentary English and various fighting basics. Then late one afternoon, they'd been out walking and Xander had fallen down the escarpment, his body hitting boulders on the way down. He'd landed hard, and Ambara had rushed down to him. He'd vaguely responded to her voice, but didn't seem to be in pain, a dangerous blessing indicating spinal cord damage. She'd kissed him gently on the forehead, then run away as fast as she could to the sounds of his ragged breaths, each one taking longer to come.
When she'd returned with men from the village, Xander's body had been dragged away. She'd followed the trail and found a grave, stones resting over a freshly dug mound of red earth. Dawn's lips pressed together in a grim line as she absorbed the information.
"We have to be sure," Dawn whispered. Reaching into her backpack, she dug around before pulling out her satellite phone. She dialed and then waited.
"Giles? It's Dawn."
* * * * * * * * * *
Willow appeared an hour later in a crackle of white energy, Giles and Buffy clinging to her. The villagers stared at her in awe and fear. Dawn stepped forward and rushed into Buffy's arms, repressed tears finally falling. Willow's face was ashen as she blankly looked at Spike.
"How far is the grave?" she asked. "Can we make it there and back before sunrise?"
"Yeah. Slayer says it's only a half hour away. But they think we should stay here. Apparently spirits live out there and they might hurt us."
Willow only frowned and nodded.
"We should take care of this now, then," Giles advised, his brow furrowed and voice scratchy. Ambara lead them out, the men and women of the village refusing to leave the safety of the cliffs. The Scoobies followed, quiet as they moved through the silent, clear night. When the reached the grave, they stood beside it. No one approached the pile of rocks; as long as no one knew the truth, Xander could still be alive. Wringing her hands, Willow's face crumpled. Tears started streaming down her face as she gazed at her friend's grave. Clenching her fists, she forced her face into a mask of serenity and stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, she held her hands out and the others watched as an almost imperceptible light moved out from her hands and into the ground. Willow's brow was wrinkled in concentration as she moved through the rocks and earth. Then the light faded once it found and encircled Xander's corpse.
With a guttural wail, Willow collapsed onto the rocks, her cries echoing into the night. Screaming Xander's name, she battered the rocks with her fists, not even bothering to stop when her knuckles started bleeding. Spike drew closer and pulled her away from the grave and into his arms. Buffy had one hand pressed tightly against her mouth as she stifled her cries, tears dripping off her chin while her other arm held a shaking Dawn beside her. Giles had his glasses clenched in his fist while he sobbed quietly into his palm. And Spike stood, frowning as an unexpected sadness flowed through him. Their heart was gone.
* * * * * * * * * *
Author's note: Okay, so yes this is really sad, but I promise things get better. I mean, this is a Spander piece, but there hasn't been any Spander yet. So just hang on.
STORY CONTINUED HERE
There was no way around it, not this time. Visibly broken bones and the inability to feel his hands or feet assured him of this. There was serious spinal cord damage. He was going to die, and soon. And a large part of himself wasn't even sad about this. He no longer feared death, but instead welcomed what would be the end of a hard life, filled with pain, injury, death and heartache. At the age of 26, he was broken and tired of life, an old man in a young man's body.
He'd been in Mali, searching for a Slayer among the Dogon people. He'd found her in one of the more remote villages. It was rarely visited by tourists, inaccessible enough that it was rather untouched by the outside world. Perched along the cliffs, the village seemed to live in a world all of its own, largely ignored by outsiders. Xander would have left the village quickly, but until the slayer hit puberty, Ambara had to remain in the village. The Dogon lived simply, making their homes in and around the dwellings carved into the sandstone cliffs long ago by the Tellem. The Tellem; Xander wanted to snort at his bad luck, except he couldn't even do that. The Tellem were a group of pygmies who had built the dwellings over five hundred years ago, and were said to have been witches. It was also said that their spirits still haunted the area at night.
Xander knew that a lot of cultures had stories and myths that were used to explain what had once been inexplicable. Yet on a quiet night, Xander could hear drums and chanting from the plains, bonfire flames licking up into the dark flesh of the sky. And in the morning, there would be no foot prints, no ash. So when night fell, the Dogon stayed within the village, and had strongly suggested Xander do the same. Given his experiences in Africa, it seemed to him that while the Dogon's beliefs could just be superstition, they could also be real. And given his experiences in Sunnydale, Xander had no desire to see if the spirits were real.
So he lay on the ground, having fallen from the cliffs, and now the sun was setting. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to focus. He looked up once to see Ambara kissing his forehead, promising to return with help. He faded into the darkness then, and later he opened his eye long enough to see the bright oranges and pinks of sunset cast shadows over the sandstone rocks. He closed his eye. When he opened it again, he could see the stars and faintly hear the sounds of the Tellem dancing and chanting. Reality shifted and slipped away as e closed his eye again. When he next rose toward consciousness, he could hear voices. They chattered in a language he didn't know, the speakers standing just outside his line of vision. He could hear their feet shuffling on the dirt, watching as dust clouds rose. A form appeared in the distence, walking toward him. He couldn't make out the features, but as the figure drew closer he could see that something was wrong with its body. He tried to focus, to listen, but he was just so tired. Exhaustion leeched his resolve, undermining his curiosity. So he closed his eye again. And that was the last time Xander Harris of Sunnydale would look upon the world.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dawn was dead.
Well, at least she would be if she didn't fucking stop humming! Spike loved Dawn, he really did. She was his Niblet, his Platelet. He would die for her, kill for her. But she was driving him fucking insane.
"Shut the fuck up, Dawn!" he finally roared. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her laugh above the noise of the engine. The chaotic turn of events had started a week ago when Xander had suddenly disappeared from Willow's awareness. The Scoobies refused to believe the most likely explanation, that Xander had died. Once the Council had exhausted it's local resources without result, they'd decided to send someone to the village. Fearing that Willow might lose control, Spike and Dawn had been sent to investigate. They'd flown on the Council's private jet from London to Nairobi, and then from Nairobi to a small Mali airport in Mopti. Then they'd rented a battered, old jeep and driven to Bandiagara and the sandstone cliffs where Xander's slayer lived. It was still daylight, so Spike was stuck, curled up in the back seat. After a few more hours, the sun set and Spike took over driving. After another forty minutes, they arrived at their destination, a footpath. Shutting off the jeep, Spike and Dawn climbed out and prepared for their walk to the village Xander had last been at. Like many of the other Dogon villages, the one they sought had been built into the cliff face, isolating them from enemies.
It took almost an hour for them to reach the village nestled against the cliffs, the mud buildings blending in with the sandstone.
"So should we just walk into the village or what? I mean, it might freak them out if they see some lily-white guy with bleach blond hair materializing from nowhere," Dawn pointed out.
"Oi! Hello?!" Spike yelled. He could hear people talking from inside the village.
"I don't think they speak english, Spike," Dawn smirked. Spike glowered at her. Dawn smiled back at him.
"Don't worry your pretty little head, Spike; I'll ask."
"What, you speak Dogon now?"
"No, but most people in Mali either speak French, or know someone who does," she smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Bonjour. Nous cherchons ici notre ami. Il manque."
Spike could hear talking on the otherside of the wall.
"Pourriez-vous répéter que s'il vous plaît?"
Dawn shot Spike a saccharine smile. "Nous cherchons ici notre ami. Il manque."
"Qui cherchez-vous?" the voice asked.
Before Dawn could answer, Spike slapped his hand over her mouth and spoke instead. "Son nom est Xander Harris ; il est d'Amérique."
At Dawn's raised eyebrows, he smirked at her. "What, you think I never learned French?"
A small gate opened and a young girl, no older than twelve, walked out. Tears welled in her dark eyes as she spoke. "Xander est mort et maintenant son esprit demeure avec le Tellem."
* * * * * * * * * *
Inside the village, Dawn and the girl, Ambara, spoke in rapid, hushed tones. Spike stared at the fire, listening as the Dogon slayer told them what happened during Xander's visit. After only a few moments, Spike could tell that Xander should have gone home, away from Africa. The Xander Ambara described wasn't the same Xander from Sunnydale. This Xander was reticent and solitary. He'd seen too much, been alone too much. But he'd done his job, teaching Ambara some rudimentary English and various fighting basics. Then late one afternoon, they'd been out walking and Xander had fallen down the escarpment, his body hitting boulders on the way down. He'd landed hard, and Ambara had rushed down to him. He'd vaguely responded to her voice, but didn't seem to be in pain, a dangerous blessing indicating spinal cord damage. She'd kissed him gently on the forehead, then run away as fast as she could to the sounds of his ragged breaths, each one taking longer to come.
When she'd returned with men from the village, Xander's body had been dragged away. She'd followed the trail and found a grave, stones resting over a freshly dug mound of red earth. Dawn's lips pressed together in a grim line as she absorbed the information.
"We have to be sure," Dawn whispered. Reaching into her backpack, she dug around before pulling out her satellite phone. She dialed and then waited.
"Giles? It's Dawn."
* * * * * * * * * *
Willow appeared an hour later in a crackle of white energy, Giles and Buffy clinging to her. The villagers stared at her in awe and fear. Dawn stepped forward and rushed into Buffy's arms, repressed tears finally falling. Willow's face was ashen as she blankly looked at Spike.
"How far is the grave?" she asked. "Can we make it there and back before sunrise?"
"Yeah. Slayer says it's only a half hour away. But they think we should stay here. Apparently spirits live out there and they might hurt us."
Willow only frowned and nodded.
"We should take care of this now, then," Giles advised, his brow furrowed and voice scratchy. Ambara lead them out, the men and women of the village refusing to leave the safety of the cliffs. The Scoobies followed, quiet as they moved through the silent, clear night. When the reached the grave, they stood beside it. No one approached the pile of rocks; as long as no one knew the truth, Xander could still be alive. Wringing her hands, Willow's face crumpled. Tears started streaming down her face as she gazed at her friend's grave. Clenching her fists, she forced her face into a mask of serenity and stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, she held her hands out and the others watched as an almost imperceptible light moved out from her hands and into the ground. Willow's brow was wrinkled in concentration as she moved through the rocks and earth. Then the light faded once it found and encircled Xander's corpse.
With a guttural wail, Willow collapsed onto the rocks, her cries echoing into the night. Screaming Xander's name, she battered the rocks with her fists, not even bothering to stop when her knuckles started bleeding. Spike drew closer and pulled her away from the grave and into his arms. Buffy had one hand pressed tightly against her mouth as she stifled her cries, tears dripping off her chin while her other arm held a shaking Dawn beside her. Giles had his glasses clenched in his fist while he sobbed quietly into his palm. And Spike stood, frowning as an unexpected sadness flowed through him. Their heart was gone.
* * * * * * * * * *
Author's note: Okay, so yes this is really sad, but I promise things get better. I mean, this is a Spander piece, but there hasn't been any Spander yet. So just hang on.
STORY CONTINUED HERE