Disclaimer: Joss, WB, UPN, et al. own Buffy. May they keep her post Season 7. Devil May Cry and DMC2 are owned by Capcom. I own neither of these things.

Title: Elysium

Author: Paradigm Shifter

Feedback: You have to ask? Of course! Please?

Crossover: Devil May Cry

Rating: R. Something different, I feel?

Continuity: Better the Devil You Know. If you haven't read that, do so, or this will make no sense whatsoever.

Notes: With the abrupt end to Better the Devil, I decided to write a sequel. I can't leave a good fic down…

*

Xepto snarled in the darkness of her own realm. When she had first seen her son, her first impulse had been to annihilate him as a source of competition. He had been with Dante at the time, and had an aura of destruction surrounding him. Her son, indeed.

[Flashback]

"Mother?" Xander stood struck dumb at the sight of the one Devil that looked like him.

Xepto answered coldly. "Son."

Dante stepped through the archway, and his eyes widened. He gripped Xander's shoulder and tried to pull him away. "Xander, we have to go!"

Xepto frowned, but the expression seemed so much more than that. "Xander?"

"It's my name. Alexander." Xander replied.

"The Protector of Humanity." Xepto mused to herself, as much as spoken to him. "How quaint. And to think, you are to be their downfall."

With Dante leading him away, Xander stalked off with one final snarl. "Not if I can help it."

[End Flashback]

It was such a shame he was half human.

Still, Xepto had certainly enjoyed her time on Earth, remaining hidden for three decades before finally choosing the man who was to spawn the new hope of Hell.

And then it all went wrong.

She fell in love with him.

[Flashback]

The woman smiled. "I love you…"

Her lover kissed her deeply, before pulling away and looking into her eyes. "I love you too."

"What's wrong?" Xepto in human form asked.

"I… um… I have to ask you something…" her lover seemed nervous, as well he might, if he knew he had spent the last year with a Devil. "Will you…"

He swallowed, "will you marry me?"

Xepto smiled.

[End Flashback]

Since then, she had spent aeons of Hell time repaying her debt to Mundus for her failure. She had not killed him, and a shifter had been forced to assassinate him, by taking her form.

[Flashback]

"Laura?"

"Yes, love?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'll let you into a secret, lover… I'm going to kill you."

"Laura? Why?"

The shifter leaned close to Xepto's husband. "I'll let you into a secret, lover…" she whispered seductively, repeating her earlier words, before plunging a serrated Devil-blade hilt deep into his gut, and twisting it viciously. "I'm not Laura."

*

When Xepto, or as her husband had known her, 'Laura', got home, she found her love dead in a pool of blood. His blood.

The memory would remain for a long, long time…

For Eternity.

[End Flashback]

It, the fact that Xepto, the only Female Devil-Knight had failed in the execution of one of her duties was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the pits. Despite her rebellion for love, Xepto still maintained her power: through mistrust, lies and deceit at every turn. The Devil-Knight that had been known for her viciousness became infinitely worse; each Devil that displeased her spent a long, long time meditating on their failures in the Endless Pit. Only Mundus himself was more feared, Nero Angelo was simply a short distraction while Dante caused trouble.

*

Time flows differently in Hell. Each minute, like an age. But too; each aeon was but a second.

This twisted fact, Xander knew all too well. His torturers delighted in showing him those he had left behind with his selfless sacrifice. He learned, too, that he was far more interesting to them than Angel had been.

Souls were interesting to torture, but there was a limit. You only had so much time to punish and torment them before they finally realised that now they were no longer in a body, they had no real reason to feel pain. Once they realised that, none of the tortures worked any more. They had served in purgatory, and could move on.

The souls of those who had been turned could be tortured for longer. Until the vampire within their body completely removed the last links, the final tenuous threads that bonded the soul to the body were gone, the torture could continue. When the Demon infesting the body finally succeeded, the soul vanished from Hell, to walk eternally in the Elysian Fields.

Xander.

He was different.

A Devil.

That was also human. In addition, he was still alive when he came through the gate. Fortunately, he had been so badly injured by Phantom's demonic fluids, that he had been unable to put up much of a fight. If he had, this might be a different story… he might be ruling Hell, with an Iron Fist, after destroying Mundus, and eliminating all who dared to stand against him.

In one reality, he was.

In another, he had been killed in the first initial attack in the Museum, so long ago. Dante had never had a partner, and had eventually fallen a few weeks later. Trish died in a lone assault to regain his body for a decent burial.

Fortunately, this reality was neither of those.

However:

Xander presented a remarkable first for Mundus. A possibility he could not turn down. Angelo had been dark of Soul already, having rid himself of his humanity through rituals and arcane rites. Dante was too much the Paladin. The good guy. Xander, on the other hand, would be the perfect assassin, the lone agent of Hell that could go anywhere… do… anything.

Kill… anything.

But.

This all hinged on one vital design, one simple idea: that Xander could be turned to serve Hell. That surely, does not sound impossible, does it? There are many ways a person can sell out others. By coercion. By torture. By appeasement. By bribery. By love.

But.

Xander… wasn't cooperating.

Too many 'buts'? Too many 'ifs' and 'maybes'? Mundus thought that too. Which is why, after a particularly vicious session with his 'keeper', Mundus paid Xander a visit.

Xander turned a bloodied head toward the sound. Mundus entered through the archway. Stopping next to the bound and spread eagled captive, he looked down at him with a mixture of hatred and speculation.

"Why can you not cooperate?" Mundus boomed. "It would be so much easier for you."

Xander spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva at him. It sizzled as it touched Mundus skin, and evaporated quickly. "If you think I'll serve you, you're mistaken. Go to hell!" Xander spat out another mouthful of blood, before continuing. "Oh, I forgot, we're already here."

"Very amusing." Mundus snarled. "You are quickly draining me of patience. You might think that Devil's have none, but that is not true. We have much patience for things that are worthwhile. You were worthwhile. You could have been useful. But your stubborn refusal to serve leads me to this…"

Mundus snapped his fingers, despite the fact he did not need to. It was the look of the thing.

Xander arched up from the platform he was tied to in agony. Every muscle in his body tensed at once, every nerve firing. A scream came from a torn throat, and Xander realised that it was his own. Eyes rolled back and bones snapped as muscles continued to strain.

Then it stopped.

It all stopped.

For what seemed like years, all Xander could feel was the beautiful surcease of pain. He revelled in the loss of agony, rejoiced in lack of stinging hurt.

Then he realised something.

*

Mundus stepped out of the chamber. "Let's see how he copes with a few millennia of that."

*

The man walked through the door of the 'Devil Never Cry' Agency, and tapped nervously on the floor with the cane he held in his right hand to announce his presence.

"Hang on a minute!" A female voice shouted from behind another door. "I'll be out in a sec, make yourself at home!"

The man stood where he was. After his run in with one of the employee's here, he was in no way going to give anyone who worked here any trouble.

Trish walked through the door, and stopped, looking at him. "Is this about a job?" she asked cautiously. "Cause we can't take any more right now."

He shook his head. "No, ma'am." He began.

He stopped as Trish muttered, "Don't you start too…"

"Pardon?"

Trish shook her head. "Sorry. I'm a bit distracted right now."

The man nodded. "Let me introduce myself. I am Jason Whittaker. I… ran into one of Devil Never Cry's employee's a while ago."

Trish looked at him hard. "You were on the pay of the government, correct? You chased Xander."

Jason looked down. "Is that his name?" Jason swallowed. "I am afraid that I misjudged him. Our employer at the time turned out to be the very thing that we thought we were fighting… a demon."

"Well, you're half right, anyway. Xander told me all about this… his… decision." Trish had no way of knowing if this guy was on the level or not, and this was the only way she could think to test him. According to Xander, this man, Jason, had seen his suited boss after Xander had defeated him. What he said now would decide Jason's continued breathing privileges.

"Right. He had to shoot our 'boss'." Jason sighed. "That guy looked human, I swear! But after… after… God, it was fucking disgusting! I liked to think of myself as jaded, but damn, that took the cake. That… lizard…" he shivered as he trailed off.

"What did you want?" Trish asked. He had passed the only test she could give right now.

"I want to help."

Trish looked pointedly at his cane. Jason followed her gaze, sighing before Trish said, "Unless that's not really needed, there ain't a whole lot you can do…"

Jason reached into his jacket with one hand, and drew it out slowly as he saw Trish shaking her head with a pistol raised.

"Formed this group, with a few old war buddies after that mess. I decided I'd never face that sort of shit again… or at least, I wouldn't do it alone." He laid the card he had taken out of his pocket on a nearby table, and stepped back.

Trish slid the gun away again. "Thanks."

Jason continued, "you can contact me via the number on the card. If it isn't me, tell whoever it is 'Xander called' and I'll get back to you. But it's usually me. I can't fight the good fight no more." He tapped the cane against his leg. "The X-man might have killed that thing, but it's buddies were none too happy… if it weren't for the cops, I'd not be here. As it is, they got the others first. They were all moving, I was totally out, so they thought I was dead. Cops scared 'em off though."

Trish winced. "I'm sorry."

Jason shrugged. "Nothing you can do about it. It's my own damned fault for going along with it… 'get power, get glory as the saviours of the world!' so they said. Hah! Some power," Jason said bitterly, "some glory."

Jason sighed. "Ah, well… I'd better get going. Call if you need." He walked out stiffly.

"Thanks," Trish said quietly, "thanks."

*

"You're sick, you know that?" Ethan spat at his captor with a hatred he had not felt for any being, past or present. Or even, to some degree, the future.

Dante, standing in his human form, smiled nastily at him. "I know. But you're worse, so I'm really doing the world a favour."

Ethan wriggled in his bonds desperately. "Killing me wont help, I didn't do anything!"

Dante edged closer to the chaos mage. He spoke with a low voice, chilling in its capacity for naked contempt. "Killing you might not help. But it'll sure feel good."

"You can't kill me." Ethan almost whimpered in fear, "I've seen my death… you don't kill me!"

Dante drew Ivory, and pointed it at Ethan's chest. "You're so sure of that? Are you? Really?"

Ethan looked down at the pistol as Dante squeezed the trigger slowly, the end of the barrel hovering over Ethan's heart.

Dante whipped the pistol away, and re-holstered it while spinning away, his coat flaring as he turned. Ethan sighed out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Dante spoke to him, a careless tone in his voice. "Yep. You're absolutely right. I don't kill you. I'll leave that for someone else to do…"

Ethan, knowing that he was not going to die, regained some of his previous bravado. "So, you're going to baby-sit me until the time comes, then? You make me sick, half-breed! A Devil who cannot embrace the legacy he has been given on a silver platter!"

Dante wheeled so fast he was a blur. Eyes wide, he snarled as he closed on the bound man. "Do not lecture me about Legacies, human," he roared, "my legacy is more than you would ever comprehend!"

"A legacy of cowardice. Your father…"

"DO NOT LECTURE ME ABOUT MY FATHER!" Dante roared inches from Ethan's face.

Ethan paused, but then continued. "Your father proved he was a coward when he turned against those of this own…"

Dante had to visibly calm himself. "That shows me the depth of your lacking, mortal. My father, the 'Traitor'…" he spat the word, "save the lives of every pitiful human on this forsaken planet. Including your miserable family's."

"Where is my brother?" Ethan asked out of the blue.

"He is serving Mundus. If you don't know him, I suggest you look him up." Dante sneered at the bound man, and stalked away.

In the darkness of his prison, Ethan raged at the unfairness of the world. But, a worshipper of Chaos should have known better.

After all…

…that is Chaos.

*

Spike pointed at the shop from a across the street, and spoke to his companion. "That's it, mate. The Slayer's little hidey-hole. Just a word of advice though: be careful… she's taken out more than you. She's taken out the Judge, and that is one evil son-of-a-bitch that I thought no bint would ever be able to kill.

Adam looked at the shop, and his optical circuits focussed on it in more detail. "There is a weak point in the wall at the corner… we should be able to irreparably damage the structure by attacking that one location."

Spike looked sick. "We?" he asked with a hint of worry.

"You gave me the target, certainly you must want them also?"

Spike capitulated. "Yeah… I do. It's just… every time I go after that crazy bitch and her little troupe, I get my butt handed to me… now, I don't know about you, but my rep can't take much more of that, before I lose my status."

"Status is so important to you?"

Spike looked at Adam incredulously. "Well, yeah, of course!" he said, "I chased a Slayer for nearly a year before I killed her once!" Spike calmed down.

 "I've got five of the cows, y'know." Spike confided.

"Most interesting." Adam's vocal unit did not allow for emotional undertones, but Spike could tell the words were dripping with the mechanical equivalent of sarcasm.

Adam turned and began to walk away. "But surely, if each time you terminate a Slayer, the next is called?"

Spike nodded as he followed. "Yeah. So?"

Adam stopped, and looked at the vampire. "Then killing one simply makes your unlife harder by bringing in fresh blood, so to speak. It would be much more efficient to injure and capture one, and then make sure she is forever on the cusp of death… a harmless, bottomless well of Slayer blood."

Spike thought about this. "Well, yeah… but that kind of eliminates the whole fun of murdering a Slayer and leaving her body for some poor bastard watcher to find in his cupboard."

Adam sighed. Or he would, if he could. Some people could never be taught. "It does not compute. It is entirely illogical."

And he stalked off, leaving Spike staring after the demon/cyborg hybrid.

*