Der Himmel Uber Sunnydale
Road Movies Filmproduktion owns the Der Himmel Uber Berlin (Wings of Desire) movie, which was directed by Wim Wenders. Joss and Mutant Enemy are the owners of BTVS and characters. NO money is made from this fanfic.
I hope you like this…
“Ah that,” Ethan nodded as he stepped over to where the young man was going through the bin of costume parts. “That was part of an estate sale in Brooklyn. I could give you a good price on it.”
Xander stared at the breastplate and sword, then put it back as he shook his head.
“Nah, I think the overcoat and fake cigar for the Colombo outfit’s good for me. Though, the sword’s cool.”
“Well, tell you what, lad, for five dollars more I’ll let you have the sword—I hear it’s a rough town,” Ethan told him, hoping his Chaos magic might create an Immortal.
“Huh, alright. Thanks.”
For the first few seconds after fading away, the young man, Iskander, whose hair slicked itself back, and whose coat and clothes had turned black and in perfect condition, felt himself go numb. All color left his eyesight, but everything became crisp and clear even as night was falling.
He didn’t have the best vantage, and flew up to the top of the Sunnydale clock tower. A redheaded girl running down the street was calling for Xander, and she seemed familiar. But as she couldn’t possibly be addressing a non-mortal such as himself, he paid her no mind.
“Xander…” Willow sighed as her ghost-self watched her friend depart. She frowned, “I thought he went as Colombo.” At the same time, the real demons fled the street at the Presence of a being of a Higher Plane. A fainting noblewoman was left unmolested by the street.
Iskander was soon joined by Raphaela atop the tower. He looked at the tall long-haired brunette as she seemed to transform her clothes also to black, well-cut and more appropriate to their usual Berlin haunts. She handed him the breastplate she’d been wearing.
The spoke mainly in German, but sometimes other languages .
“I don’t know why I have your armor, Iskander, but here.”
“Thank you, Raphaela. Why are we at the Main Hellmouth?”
“I don’t know, my old friend. But tonight I sense the Essence of an Elder Being touching the children, tainting them with Chaos.” She looked him directly into his eyes. “And I am getting flashes of color, and feeling.”
He floated down to a newspaper machine and dew out a ghost-copy of the current Sunnydale Press. He frowned.
“I planned to Descend to Mortality almost fifty years ago…” he told her as he thought hard about it. His eyebrows rose. “I have to check on something in Los Angeles. I seem to have a Mortal Connection there.”
“I will stay here and Watch,” she responded at his side.
Raphaela stepped through the back wall of Ethan’s Shoppe an hour later, having observed and by Presence sending away many an evil.
“Cordelia?” Willow asked in surprise as her and Giles entered the room. “Are you a Ghost too?”
“Ghost? And who is this Cordelia?”
Ethan took advantage of the confusing situation and stepped back from Ripper and the ghost but he unknowingly passed through Raphaela, a static shock zapping them both as their magics of different types interacted. Raphaela gasped as she unexpectedly Descended, fell atop the bust of Janus, both falling to the ground.
Willow gasped and disappeared back to her body, as Cordelia suddenly appeared on the floor in front of Giles. He pulled her away from a screaming Ethan from whom swirling magics burst. As his arm was engulfed in white light, it arced to Giles’ own, striking a demonic mark best forgotten. The two collapsed.
'The Actor Who Played Colombo' felt an odd ‘echo’ of a presence, and smiled.
“I know you’re there,” he spoke to the thin air. Iskander frowned in confusion, as he thought the man in front of him WAS him. He watched as the man reached out as if to shake his hand. Iskander on a whim decided to try grasping the man’s hand.
Unfortunately, this was at the same moment that the bust of Janus in Sunnydale broke open and ended the spell. 'The Actor Who Played Colombo' pulled back his hand from an actual shock, as Iskander screamed and flew into the sky and halfway around the world to Berlin, remembering his life as Iskander, the Descended Angel who’d become the mortal 'Actor Who Played Colombo' back in Brooklyn in 1953. He also dimly remembered the other life he’d experienced, that of Xander Harris of Sunnydale, California.
The world is a gray place. I’ve seen much of it for myself in the past two and a half months. I am now remembering what it was like to be human, though I still cannot feel or truly remember what it is like. I have The Actor's memories—all of them. It was a joke played on me by Janus when he detected the Angelic Accoutrements as I spoke to him about my Colombo costume. He’s followed me around for most of that time, the joke also playing out on himself as now he and I have met and become Angels of a lower order.
He’s very knowledgeable about ‘our’ kind of being, and laughs at how things ended up. He barely feels, while I barely can’t. He’s shown me eighty-eight cities in as many turnings of the planet, and made me ‘read’ works of literature, read Princes and Potentates and Paupers, and recite to him a rather long History of himself.
He’s the only one who knows me as a former human, and seems to have enough emotions to keep me almost-human, so I humor him. I asked him why I was to read and recite, and he smiled, assuring me that should I ever manage to Descend, then I would be able to choose from as many choices as he’s provided. Apparently, I’ll be able to be passably literate and fluent in the tongues I can simply now draw on. The Act of Doing makes the languages mine. Again, I humor him.
But now he seems to think a return to the Hellmouth is a good idea. I sense Darkness there, and not merely the Hellmouth. He tells me that he feels it too. That’s why we’re going: because I CAN feel.
Kendra had been sent to the Hellmouth to lend back up to her sister Slayer: the coven in Devon had sensed two great evils arising. She was surprised to learn from Watcher Giles that the Scourge of Europe had managed to uncover and move to revive, two of the worst demons of the last thousand years—The Judge had been assembled and Acathla would soon be awake.
“But how did ‘Angel’ lose his soul again?” she asked the assembled group of Slayer and supporters. Only two of those gathered weren’t depressingly silent—the Slayer, who was angry at the Scourge of Europe, and the tall brunette who still radiated a clean energy. Cordelia was her name, Kendra remembered, and she had the touch as though of Holy Water to the Undead and Demonic. Even sitting over the Hellmouth. Now, the girl seemed uneasy, and looked around. Buffy answered.
“The Judge burned the soul out of him, Kendra. Killed the real him, and now we’re going to kill them.”
“Do we know where they are?” she asked. She was pleased that Buffy was acting as a real Slayer. “Watcher Giles?”
“They were at an abandoned warehouse last night, but seem to have moved. An informant says they’ll be gathering in a populated place in order to carry out the ritual to revive Acathla, with The Judge taking command of the demon hosts that pour through the portal that will open.”
“And where is that, the club you hunt vampires at?”
“The mall,” Oz contributed and looked at his compatriots. “The Bronze is closed.”
And as they prepared for hopeless battle, none noticed the two dark-clothed men sitting on the upper banisters.
Gesturing to follow him, Janus led Iskander out of the building and toward the mall—flying slowly as was their usual way. Passing City Hall, Janus held a hand up in front of his adjacent companion, indicating they should stop. A blue demon in the company of several minor demons strode across the street regardless to traffic.
The Judge stopped suddenly and stepped back off the curb as he felt the presence of two of THEM. HE snarled and spotted them as a large limousine swerved to miss the larger group of lesser vampires, only to hit The Judge and Drusilla. The Mayor’s window had been open only enough so he could view the goings-on as they moved by; Alan Finch stepped out of the other side of the car, and raced away, the crashing of the windshield and partition glass cutting him badly. He turned only long enough to see Mayor Wilkins dead with a blue angry demon gripping the throat of Sunnydale’s master.
Iskander stepped over to the car to get a better view, and to understand what might be happening. He reached in and tried to ‘read’ the blue demon, but it screamed, seemed to diminish, and then fell into unconsciousness. Iskander found himself in his armor, sword in hand, and in robes of blinding white. Spike’s minions gasped in agony, two of the nearest bursting into flames just being in his presence. William the Bloody grabbed his now-blinded Drusilla and race away. In rage and agony, Iskander lunged forward and began severing pieces off of The Judge, and as they came off they burned up in blinding white flame.
The Slayer from Jamaica watched in awe as the Angel quickly and in great wrath destroyed one of the worst demons known outside of the Well. He matched the description given by the young brunette woman helping Watcher Giles in his translations of ancient tomes…Cordelia. She watched as he seemed to strobe between a reverse-photo-negative and a more human appearing individual. He staggered away in apparent exhaustion, and then faded to grey before leaving only the faintest detectable trace as a second faint presence registered.
“What was that?” Iskander asked, “And why can I see and feel more, now?”
“Your touching of the Demon, even using a Holy Weapon, acted as a circuit. Your remaining Human energy, plus that still within the Monster, passed through and into you.”
“Why did it fluctuate?”
“Every time you struck again, it in a sense was canceled by the Demon, I’d guess.”
“So I nearly returned to Mortality?”
“Within a few, like the one you dressed as, have made the transition.”
“I could really return?”
“If given the right circumstances, and you wish it enough.” Janus smiled. “Look, a Slayer. She can JUST sense us.”
Iskander looked over and saw Kendra, not Buffy.
“I see her. We need to see if the Other Threat is stopped because of this.”
The two Beings flew away from the town for half an hour, to clear their minds after so much time in the Presence of Evil. Janus kept track of the movements of both factions. They slowly made their way into the retail concentration to watch the unfolding events.
In the center of the mall, Angelus had ordered the minions to bring and set up the petrified Acathla, and with the arrival of Spike and a badly-injured Drusilla, the Aurelians numbering two dozen forced twice that number of humans into the Food Court in front of the stone figure. Angelus smiled as he read from an old tome, the ritual necessary for bringing Hell to Earth.
The side of Good made its appearance—Buffy, Willow, Giles, Kendra, Cordelia, Jenny Calendar, her uncle Enos, and a senior named Daniel Osborne. The really interesting presence was that of the 'Actor Who Played Colombo' right behind them, seemingly giving advice regarding the ritual being performed by Angelus. The two Angels watched as eight crossbows thrust flaming bolts into the ranks of vampire minions before the monsters abandoned their positions to attack the Slayers.
Buffy and Kendra leapt in deep, swords swinging as the humans with them began to help the captured shoppers get away. Spike smiled at the thought of revenge while Drusilla draped herself across Acathla lovingly.
'The Actor' picked up a sword dropped by Kendra in the fight, and made his way around the chaos toward Angelus, who continued the ritual, and bled himself as part of it. But 'The Actor' halted as he felt two familiar Presences and smiled.
“I was hoping at least one of you would show up and help,” he whispered to the empty air. He noticed the ‘statue’ beginning to animate. “But now would be a good idea.”
The shoppers had raced away, and Kendra took an horrific blow from Spike as she kept Oz alive. Only five minions were left, but Willow was unconscious, Cordelia looked weary, and Enos was dead after casting flame magic that took five of Angelus’ spawn with him.
Acathla opened as the fight moved between Acathla and where Colombo was talking to Angels. Cordelia turned and was shocked to see two men with him.
“Isk—Xander!” she screamed. “Help us please!”
The Angel took a hesitant step forward, as Janus leaned over to him.
“You know what you need to do, Alexander.”
Alexander nodded, and flew over the crowd, landing sword-down on the shoulders of William the Bloody. As Spike dusted, the very edge of Acathla’s Portal touched the Aura of the Angel, causing an effect much like the one with The Judge earlier. His feet landed firmly, and slashing and stabbing he cleared three minions giving the Slayers difficulty.
Alexander, fluctuating between Color and Grey, hurled his sword in a circling motion, most blinded Light as it decapitates Angelus and as his head flew into the Portal, Acathla itself. The Actor Who Played Colombo raced over and while pushing Drusilla into the Portal, kicked the head of Acathla into it as well. Angelus’ body dusted, the Portal closed, Alexander screamed as he flew through the edges of the Hell Portal and disappeared in front of all.
The Actor, screamed in pain, and disappeared also.
Janus was a bit surprised at the turn of events, and watched as the group of human heroes picked themselves up. Cordelia, though exhausted and bruised, rested as the others took their wounded to the cars first.
“So, we must thank you for your help,” she told the barely-visible Angel. Janus looked up to see a demon hybrid that had had all evil removed from it, make its way over.
“Hey, Doll Face, Janus. Thought I’d let you know the scoop where I’m not gonna have a Slayer axe me before I get two words in.”
“Who are you?” Cordelia asked.
“Someone who knows about things, like Angel had enough soul escape that he moved on to the next life when The Judge used him up.”
“What about Colombo and Xander?”
Whistler looked at Janus instead of Cordelia who’d asked the question.
“They’re both at the school. The Actor’s waiting until you show up he’s one of you again—it was the only way to save Alexander.”
Janus nodded and flew off, as Cordelia stood and looked at Whistler.
“Xander’s alive?” she asked with hope.
“Yeah, and you’re probably the only one around who can understand what he’s been through, Raphaela.”
“You know about that?”
“Yeah, and that unlike others who Descend, he’ll still have a kinda connection like you have. And it’s best you two move away from the Hellmouth.”
“But he doesn’t like me.”
“When he Ascended on Halloween, he’d already touched you, so he read you witout knowing it. As a Mortal, sweet thing, you’ll be one of the first and strongest set of memories and emotions he’s experiencing.”
“What about money?”
“Alexander Falk’s already been set up, if he leaves the Hellmouth within the week.”
“What about his friends?”
“Hellmouth and Angels not good.”
“Yeah, right. You have paperwork?”
“It’ll appear in your car if you both head for LA.”
Whistler smiled as she with some fatigue ran off; his bosses would be pleased that the two would be getting a head start on the path Angel Investigations would have tread, but with fewer fangy obstacles.
The morning light poured through the Library skylight onto floor next to the weapons cage. As the sun reached his eyes, he began to wake, as keys turned the lock to the doors from the outside. His motions and slight noise in regaining consciousness caused Cordelia, in whose lap his head lay, and who’d been watching over him all night, also opened her eyes, and they shared a smile.
“Raphaela,” he croaked as his voice experienced it’s first actual use as human again. “Cordelia.”
“Hey there,” she smiled down at him, moving hair from his brow as Giles noticed them and gawked. Though not cramped, everything of Xander was a bit stiff from being brand new, and he realized he could FEEL.
“Xander?” Giles asked in amazement, and without leaving his perfectly wonderful resting place, nodded quietly. A tired Willow still dressed much as she had been the previous night, stepped through the door.
‘Xander?’ her eyes asked, ‘Are you Xander again?’
He nodded twice, slightly, ‘yes.’
“Xander—” she began, only to have him rasp out “Alexander” in correction.
“Oh. Alexander, then.” She looked confused as he’d never before liked his whole name. Realizing she might quickly go into shock, she decided to do something. “Can I get you something? Some of Giles’ tea?”
He nodded, and Giles smiled as she left. He grabbed a chair, and looked keenly at the full armor and sword the lad wore.
“Alexander…where have you been?”
Xander used sign language instead of speech, to start with, ‘Anyone tell you anything about me on Halloween?’
Giles nodded, “Cordelia did…Good Lord…Were you?”
“An Angel…Yeah…but I’m back,” he continued in French.
“Why now, and not before?”
‘I wasn’t needed until now…” he considered aloud in Spanish, and became quiet as he followed up in Latin. “I didn’t FEEL I was needed until now. So I’m mortal again, now.’
“You were here the whole time?”
“Not always, even an angel can become bored,” he mused in Classical Greek. He finished in English. “I went to Berlin, London, and other places I saw from the minds of those I touched. Nothing really moved me.’
Willow returned about ten minutes later, Giles content to let the young man get to his feet. Cordelia seemed to not want to leave the lad’s side, and Alexander seemed to take strength from her presence. Cordelia explained what Whistler had said.
As the four doctored their tea as desired, a tired and red-eyed Buffy entered the library and stood in shock.
“I’m back. But I can’t stay near the Hellmouth for more than a couple days, at most.”
“You, you just got here. How are you alive?”
He explained the last three months to all of them, and how he’d need to leave to avoid becoming Corrupted. Buffy sighed.
“So, you all powery and stuff?”
“No more than a real Crusader with a lot of languages under his belt.”
“I sense you.”
“You feel Pure; even more than Cordelia has since Halloween.”
Cordelia blushed; she’d become an accepted part of the team since Halloween, helping with research and translations, and keeping some of her swordsmanship by practicing with Buffy and training Willow. The three girls had become close friends, hoping against hope as days past that Xander might return.
“Oh. Does that mean I have the same effect as a Holy Symbol?”
“I know Angel…” she halted, the pain of loss great. “Angel was uncomfortable being within ten feet of Cordy. And you’re much stronger feeling.”
Xander smiled at Cordelia.
“Think you could buy me some clothes?”
“Oh, sure. Though you seem to have been left a set of all-black Armani—I put them in Giles’ office.”
“Thanks. Did my overcoat make the transition?”
“Yeah, nice by the way. Why don’t you go get changed while I make some calls for us to move out of town.”
“Well, LA by June. But I was thinking just out of range of the Hellmouth. That way no big—everybody can come out to visit.”
Willow looked at Cordelia.
“Wow, I never thought of that. I mean, I’d already given up hope. You know, move away means move far away.”
Buffy smiled slightly at her babbling friend, but agreed.
“Yeah, almost normal again. LA, huh? Wait a minute, you and Xander?”
“Yeah, but LA might be far away, but it’s also so close.”
Just a one-shot, guys. And I didn’t leave it with a dramatic moment or a cliff-hanger. Just a comfortable end where after mourning for Angel, the rest of high school shouldn’t be so bad for Buffy and the others; almost gets a normal life. A little boosting for Xander and Cordy so they can be ‘Angel’ Investigations. Thanks for reading, and I hope there was enough here for all of you to enjoy.