A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews You're all awesome!

On with the show then, this is the final part. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter... Funnily enough, Beyond's part came out much more coherent than L's or Light's, though he's supposedly the craziest out of them... But I figured that his insanity is a different kind. Umm.

Includes non-consensual sex, threesome (kind of, at least...), and some violence + ideologically and morally sensitive content. So if any of these are not your cup of tea, back off.

Anyways, hope you like it! Please review!


iii

Beyond: Burn the World

It's time to spill your guts
And I don't like what I see on the inside

I'm looking at the evidence
This seems like a violent crime
Did you forget that love was dangerous?
And I feel like I'm, I, I, I...

I'm gonna break your heart and get away with murder


Love is the keyword.

I've always found it funny. Light – or Kira – the "Savior" of the innocent, the bringer of a better future, was never driven by actual caring for the people he was supposedly helping; no, it was his pride. L, the terror of wrongdoers, was never guided by selfless ideas – he did it because he was bored to death.

But I – I, a ruthless serial killer who murders for personal gain and pleasure – I have always been driven by love.

And isn't love such a nice thing?

L had loved me too, I know. When he found out they had driven me away because I loved him, that they had made me swear to never see him again, he sought me out on his own and against their will, and together we managed to hide from them for a couple of months. He was the only one who could calm me down and prevent me from killing – he said he didn't want me to kill for fun, and he offered to take the blows and to soothe my broken nerves whenever I felt the rage, the need to hurt someone, surfacing. He held me, tended to my torn soul, cried for me, begged for me and only left me when they came for him with guns and threats – he loved me so much.

That thought, the memory of his calm eyes, his creamy skin, his lips when they were swollen from kisses, gasping for air – that was what kept me going. That was what made me kill again to get his attention in Los Angeles; even though I was deeply hurt that he didn't deal with the case personally and eventually threw me in prison, I had to believe in his love, because that kept me alive, and that kept me sane. Saner? Insane.

That my apparent death in the hands of Kira was what triggered his interest in the case gave me strength, though in the end that took him straight into the arms of Light Yagami; when I finally managed to track him down in the headquarters of the Kira Task Force, he was already gone, and for a while I feared that was where the trail ended – before his small grave in the Christian graveyard near Tokyo.

That moment, I was mortally afraid for the first time in my life.

Once again, only the obsessive love I felt kept me on the move, looking relentlessly for signs that he may be alive – and I was right.

I was overjoyed to find him alive.

I was angry to find him so damaged and humiliated.

I was downright furious to find him in Kira's arms – taking his blows, soothing his nerves. Holding him, crying for him, begging for him, all that.

My mind was full of murderous rage, so to avoid harming him out of spite I escaped, found victims – one after another – and plunged into a sea of fresh blood for days, perhaps even weeks; even all that couldn't satisfy my need for revenge, but it calmed me down.

His love – my driving force – was now directed at someone else, and seeing it from the outside made me realize that to him, it was, had always been, a weapon and a shield, nothing more.

But damn, he had stabbed me right through the heart.

I decided that I had to talk to him, even though that might end in murder, and so I waited patiently until Kira left the apartment for work, waited as L worked, ate, worked some more, and let myself in when he finally went to take a shower, leaving the rest of the apartment unguarded and drowning all the noise I made in the sound of the water.

As I waited for him to finish his shower, I searched the apartment, at the same time intrigued by this place that was probably more of a home to L than any other place had ever been – as far as I knew, he hadn't stayed so long in one place since he'd been thirteen – and disgusted at how I could sense the scent, the aura of Kira lingering everywhere, entwined with L's.

This was their home – no matter that it was a prison to one of them – and I was an outsider.

With this dark thought in my mind, it was no wonder his eyes shot wide open, expressing the clearest shock and horror I'd ever seen in them, when he returned from the bathroom in his virgin white bathrobe and was captured in my arms. I must have looked like I was intending to rip his head off right there and then.

"Beyond," he gasped, though it was unnecessary; I knew he had recognized me the very instant his eyes had first landed on me, perhaps even before that – when my fingers had circled around his wrist and yanked him to me.

"Hello, love," I whispered, lifting one hand to caress the side of his face. I could see that he was terrified, because meeting me in a situation like this was so unexpected and my actions and appearance didn't match each other – he had absolutely no idea what I was going to do.

Not that I really had, either.

"You know," I continued, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, pinning him against the wall in the process, "it disappoints me that you don't take better care of yourself. That you lower yourself like this..."

He didn't waste time asking how I was alive – so he had known all along, or at least had suspected that I had faked my death – or pretending to be innocent or asking how much I knew; he knew I had seen them. He's such a smart boy. "You know very well why I'm doing this," he said instead, sharply. No 'Oh Beyond, he forced me! Please take me away from here!' or anything – and though I kind of wanted to hear it, I knew I would have lost all my respect for him if he had actually said it. "I don't care about what happens to my body. It's irrelevant -"

"It's not," I interrupted him with a hiss, my grip around his delicate, bathrobe-clad shoulders tightening to what must have been quite painful; I could feel my fingertips digging into his bones. His expression didn't change one bit. "It's not irrelevant, because everything about you belongs to me, and I left it all in your care. I'm very disappointed that you thought you could abuse my property like that."

His eyes were so expressionless that it almost exceeded expressionless – I could practically feel the vicious, biting hate radiating from behind them. He was almost furious enough to drop the pretense that he still loved me and was doing this merely to catch Kira.

Almost.

But I wanted to hear him say it – say that he had let me control him for exactly the same reason he now let Kira control him. I needed to hear those ugly words from his pretty mouth.

"Beyond," he warned me in a low voice when my hand slipped to his back inside the robe and started to slide lower. "Do not even think about it."

Oh, I had absolutely no intention to think about it, and he did not think twice either when my hand cupped his ass. He was growling no and lifting his leg at the same time, already before I slid my hand lower, following the curve of his butt with my fingertips, tracing it to the back of his thigh and bringing the leg around my waist. My hips were grinding into his so hard that it felt more like a bone-on-bone contact rather than skin-on-skin, and then his left leg was around me as well and his arms were wrapped around my neck and my hands were all over him and then vertical was suddenly horizontal and his bathrobe, his hair, his arms and his legs were splayed deliciously on the mattress of their bed.

I could see the marks Kira's fingers, fists and teeth had left on his creamy white skin, and I wanted to hurt him worse than that, to leave marks deeper than his.

His mouth was allowing the most delightful gasps to escape, and his fingers were twisting into the sheets, into my hair, into my clothes, and my fingers were deep inside of him, when I felt the eyes on me – not his eyes, for they were closed in ecstasy, but the eyes of his new God, standing in the doorway in his neatly pressed suit and looking at us with an indescribable expression.

I lifted my head, my lips curving into a wide grin the moment they left his bruising – already bruised – neck, and met Kira's fiery sunset red eyes with my blood red ones. Or sunrise red, I supposed – after all, this young man staring at me with the burning eyes of a god of murder was the bringer of a new era.

L was the night, and Kira was the dawn, and I was the thin, blood red line in the horizon that separated them from each other.

But I guess that I connected them, too...

"Hello," I said, a slow smirk taking control of my lips, and with a shudder L froze completely, and then twisted his head to look even though he knew very well what he would see. His eyes were confused, guilty and smug and thrilled at the same time, and I know he had never even thought of the possibility that he might find himself in a situation like this, and that he was now wondering if this was cheating.

Then, it seemed, he suddenly remembered the bruises on his skin, the pain and the blood and the unpredictable fury of the God of New World, and decided that cheating or not, this was probably a little too much like playing with fire, and he started to struggle – to make it look like I was forcing myself on him or to rid himself of my touch, I wasn't sure, but I rather enjoyed the way his struggling was chopped neatly in half with a throaty moan when I curled my fingers. After that, though, he kicked me square in the jaw, effectively forcing me off his frail body, and scrambled to his feet, his hair in a damp mess and his bathrobe hanging from his narrow shoulders in an undeniably slutty way.

"Light-kun," he murmured, turning his back to me and looking at his captor-lover-nemesis-friend-abuser, bringing his hands in front of himself and twining and untwining his fingers together in a pathetic, insecure way.

It sickened me to see him act so pitifully. I wanted to hit him, scream at him for it – he had been, he still was, he had been my whole life, the only authority in the world I accepted, the only one capable of tricking me, beguiling me...

"He was mine before, you know," I couldn't help saying to Kira, flashing a bright smile instead of growling like an animal like I wanted to.

"Backup," L hissed, glancing at me over his shoulder, and I froze. His eyes were blank, cold, cruel like steel, and I was suddenly twelve again and one look of those eyes could give me nightmares for weeks.

I wasn't enough. There was something wrong with me, something missing. I was... never... enough...

I recovered soon, quickly enough to see a strange look flash in Kira's eyes, see the way L's shoulders slumped when he turned back to him, the way his tensed fingers started fiddling with the sleeve of his bathrobe again, and realized that just as L had once fooled me into believing I had full control over him, he had submitted to Kira to make him rot from the inside.

Just like I had once thought my death would be a victory over L.

Victory in defeat.

An unsettling thought started to form in the back of my mind.

"You must be Beyond Birthday," Kira said, locking eyes with me. He reached out, and L stepped into his arms.

"Pleased to meet you," I greeted him, smiling widely. I wanted to rip his eyes out for that disgusting little show of his power over L, but at the same time I was bubbling with happiness because he knew me – L had talked to him about me.

"And you are here because?"

"You have something that belongs to me, obviously." I shifted, moving to sit on the edge of the bed facing them, leaning back leisurely to expose the erection L's wanton little mewls had caused, and did my best to look as much at home on their bed as possible. I could see that my relaxed posture and vile grin were getting on his nerves; L was standing with his head turned away so I couldn't see his face.

Kira turned to look at the detective as well, forcibly turning his face to him by taking a hold of his chin. I'd have to chop off his fingers for that, later. Actually, I would probably have to chop off several other bits of him for touching my L... The thought made me feel instantly better.

"L, would you like to say something?" the killer god asked in a menacing voice.

"What do you expect me to say?" L muttered in a low voice. "I went to take a shower, and meanwhile he sneaked in and then attacked me when I returned..."

"Yes, I could see you were struggling fiercely," Kira said dryly, and L actually blushed.

"I was..." he began, but Kira interrupted him.

"Don't waste your breath. You're going to need it." As L looked at him, confused and frowning, Kira suddenly flashed a smirk that made me think I was the sane one, turned him around and abruptly shoved him towards me; he stumbled and fell straight into my startled arms.

"You seem to have left our poor guest in quite a state," Kira said venomously, a vicious little smile still on his lips. "How impolite of you, L."

For once, I knew for sure that L and I were thinking along the same lines – we were both staring incredulously at him, wondering if we had heard correctly. Kira was right, though, and L was currently resting quite heavily on the evidence...

"Perhaps," Kira continued, settling to lounge on the armchair in the corner of the room – undoubtedly the one L usually resided in – his legs crossed at knees, arms imperiously on the armrests as if he were sitting on a throne, not a regular armchair, head tilted smugly a little back so he could look down on us, "you should finish what you started."

That was unexpected.

One part of me wanted to rip the arrogant bastard to pieces for thinking he could give orders to L, but another part – a much larger part – was way too horny to care. And, even though it stung a little that it was supposedly Kira's order, what could be better than making L mine again right in front of him?

"I think we can get along for a little while longer," I finally declared to Kira; L was still staring at him, looking stunned and strangely betrayed. I tugged at his bathrobe to get his attention, and when he slowly turned to look at me, I smirked. "You need to take that off, love."

Slowly, as if in a dream, L stood up, glanced over his shoulder once more as if to see if this was just a test, if Kira was going to lash out the moment he actually obeyed, and then, hesitantly, he allowed the bathrobe to slide from his shoulders, leaving him naked in the crossfire of two extremely heated gazes.

I admired him for keeping his cool and not flushing. I admired a lot about him, at the moment.

I leaned back and enjoyed the show just as much as Kira did as he knelt before me and, expressionless as ever, reached out to undo my pants; I couldn't, however, remain a mere spectator when his mouth closed over my aching member. My hands went to his hair and gripped hard enough to make him gasp in pain, and I had to bite back a gasp of my own; Kira's eyes flared at that, and I grinned at him.

"Never guessed you'd be the voyeuristic type, Kira," I taunted him and deliberately allowed a low moan escape from my throat.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," Kira replied, his golden red eyes glinting maliciously. I was transfixed, enchanted; I had only ever seen eyes like that in the mirror. "But don't flatter yourself too much. This is just a lesson for L."

I just smiled. I'm told that when you're insane, you don't realize it yourself, but that's bullshit; I knew exactly how twisted and deranged I was. I liked it. I exaggerated it on purpose. It gave me power unlike any other threat could have – more than a knife, more than a bullet, people had always feared my smile. L feared it as well, but that didn't matter because I knew something important was off in his pretty head, too, because insanity and intelligence always walk hand in hand. That thrilled me; we were so much alike.

He rarely smiled, though. Perhaps he didn't enjoy the look of fright on everyone's faces like I did. I smiled all the time, like the Cheshire Cat.

A tug at L's hair was all it took, and almost before I knew it – though of course I knew it, I was the one pulling at his puppet strings after all – I was telling him he'd better hope his saliva was enough and he was sitting in my lap, gasping at the sudden and poorly prepared intrusion, his fingernails digging into my shoulders and mine into his hipbones. His dark, stormy eyes closed soon to hide him from the world and the world from him, thin eyebrows drawing together in pain and guilty pleasure, so I directed my gaze over his shoulder to the man watching us – calm on the outside, but boiling, melting hot with anger and lust under that tan skin, I knew just by meeting his eyes.

A breathless snigger joined the quiet gasps that filled the room, and it turned out to have come from my mouth, so I had to come up with something to follow it. "Turn around, L," seemed to be the natural way to go, "your new God wants to watch you get fucked."

His eyes opened, blinked, begged me to take my words back, closed again in defeat, and I helped him turn around in my arms so that he faced Kira and impale himself again, guided his hips up and down, bit down on his shoulder until it bled. It think he let out a shuddering sob at that point; I'm not sure, because suddenly Kira was there, and his lips swallowed most of the sounds he made.

Things got heated and messy then, and my only coherent thoughts were centered around his hips, his frail, jutting shoulder-blades, his feathery hair brushing against my face and especially the unbelievably tight heat around me; the feel of his skin under my nails and fingertips as it turned slippery with blood, the soundless sobs that wrecked his whole body, shook him to the bones, shook me to the bones - the obsessive love I'd always felt for him and the newer, scorching hot vengeful rage coursed through my veins, burning as it went, and somewhere in the back of my hazy mind I thought, It must burn him, too, because I'm inside him and that's where all the blood is, too, he must be in such pain and he deserves it all, and then there was an unfamiliar pair of hands, stroking L's back and sometimes touching my chest in the process, snaking into my hair and gripping it tight in a fist, and the shock of feeling a strange pair of lips on my own -

At some point – probably as soon as I was finished with him and loosened my painful grip of him – Kira gathered my limp, sweaty, broken rag-doll detective into his arms and moved onto the bed with him, and L tried to protest, push him away so weakly it made me want to slap him for daring to show such weakness in front of anyone, said he'd get his suit dirty, struggled and finally just gave up and stared, with an exhausted, haunted look in his eyes, up at Kira as he lowered him onto the bed.

"Haven't you humiliated me enough?" L murmured thinly, and I leaned down to smother his words with a kiss, because I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed him hello yet. I had meant it to be a short, perhaps even chaste kiss, but my lips were still on his when Kira entered him, still on his lips when Kira twisted him into a position that was clearly uncomfortable to him and pounded into him just as mercilessly as I just had, and suddenly L's fingers were in my hair and pulling, pulling me closer, pulling me away from him, seeking for comfort in my presence as well as begging me to draw back, to let him breathe –

But I felt that every single breath he took belonged to me as well, and I made sure he had to share them all like the rest of his body, like his whimpers, moans and screams – but the shallow breaths we managed to inhale were not enough for both of us, and black and white spots were soon dancing in my vision, making his delirious sounds and expressions even more dreamlike – nightmarish? -

– and at some point I realized that the ragged breathing right next to my ear wasn't me or L because we were barely breathing, and I think I felt lips on my throat while mine were securely locked with L's, and using the element of surprise this act provided, Kira managed to yank me back for a moment – long enough to drown his own shout in L's mouth as he climaxed.

Later, much later, I woke up to a skeletal-thin forearm pressed against my throat, to flaming black eyes above me; I knew instantly that Kira was asleep because otherwise L would've acted meek and broken.

"Don't say a word," he hissed like a snake, low and dangerous, and his arm on my windpipe made sure I obeyed, for once. "You're not getting in my way here, Beyond. Do you think I couldn't kill him in his sleep? Find a way to contact the police and have him executed? I could, B, even now, but I don't want to. No, I have other plans and if you disturb them, I will never forgive you."

"If," I croaked and he withdrew his arm slightly to let me speak, "if your plan is to keep him like this because some twisted part of you enjoys this fucked up relationship you have, I'll kill him and then you." I didn't have to say anything else – I had killed enough to be convincing.

His eyes glanced to the side and he was silent for a moment, listening for the slightest sign that Kira may have been awake. When he was satisfied that the boy god was indeed asleep he leaned close to me, unbearably close, the scent of sweat and sugar and sex and L filling my head as his thin chest touched mine and his lips my ear.

"I want to see Kira self-destruct," he whispered, and it was so disturbing, so malicious, so fucking wrong that it was arousing enough to make me hard again, "I will make him hate what he has become until he turns himself in, pulls the trigger or perhaps even writes down his own name -"

"Writes down?"

"Confusing. I'll explain later – if there is anything capable of listening and understanding left of you by then."

Threats, my dear Lawliet? That cut deep. "So", I asked viciously, "is your love always a trick?" It was partly an insult, but a part of me had to hear the answer – when he had so carelessly said he loved me, had that been a trick as well?

"Never," he whispered, "because love is the only emotion I'm incapable of faking. I simply don't know how to. So whatever I feel for you -" my heart leapt, "and Light-kun is genuine. But love makes a beautiful weapon – it can be used for tricking, if you play your cards right."

So he had been honest about love, and dishonest about everything else. I wasn't sure if that was good or not. "You love him," I said slowly, "and you want to watch him self-destruct."

"I want to watch Kira self-destruct," he corrected me. "If Light-kun makes it through alive, then I won't raise a finger against him."

He didn't say that if Light died along Kira – as he had to, as far as I knew – L would follow him soon. He didn't have to, anymore. I knew he wasn't going to live without Kira now that he knew what it felt like to live with him – just like I could no longer go back to living without L.

"I tried it on you, too," he whispered, "but you wouldn't have made it through – I couldn't keep you from killing, murder is a part of you, engraved in your body and mind -" his spindly fingers were cold on my chest, just above my heart, and I felt almost faint when all the blood in my body rushed either into my groin or to meet his fingertips by making my heart beat faster and faster, "and you can't live without it, so I had to stop. You're a failed experiment in so many ways..."

"But isn't all this a bit too much?" I asked, biting back a moan when those cool fingers traced circles down my body. There was an edge to his touch; he was unusually sensual, attempting seducing on purpose possibly for the first time in his life, but he was wary, ready to flinch away if he so much as sensed a violent thought from my side. He was still thinking about the look on my face when I had pinned him against the wall earlier that day – he was trying to drown my bitter hatred and thirst for revenge in attention, but he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. "You let me do anything I wanted to you, and now you're doing the same with him. I can't understand how such a proud, haughty person can submit to that..."

A sad little smile twisted his thin lips as his hand reached my member and those delicate fingers wrapped around it. "That seems like a relatively low price for your souls."

I came very soon after that, with the chill his words had caused still running down my spine.

With a mixture of horror and awe I thought, we may have his body and heart to use and abuse, but he has our souls, and he will never, never in this world or even the next let us go...

I slowly became aware of Kira's eyes on us; L was thin and fragile again, not the slightest bit threatening, but the look of respect and fascination on Kira's face told me he had been a little too slow to hide it.

Well, if this was the God L had now chosen to follow, I had no choice but to become the Devil of the New World for him, because there was no way I was leaving this life before him – no, I would see this enchanting play to the bitter end, and then I'd let the audience out, close the curtains, and follow them to death and, ah, beyond.

We were, I figured, Holy Trinity at its best – the God, the Devil and the Human Sacrifice. Too bad L didn't seem to much care for dying for anyone's sins, least of all for his own – no, instead he was going Abel and Cain on the only two people he had ever truly loved.

Now, even I had often thought he was cold and emotionless, but his love was just as deep as mine and Kira's – just like ours, it was deep enough to make him hurt his loved ones to keep them to himself.

He knew he could never have either of us in a peaceful, happy life, so he was going to make sure we would be his in death.

What a treacherous little whore.

I couldn't help but love every single treacherous cell of him.


I can't believe I just wrote that.

(In case you're not familiar with Christian mythology, the Holy Trinity is supposed to be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In Beyond's version, the Human Sacrifice refers to L and is, in a way, a parody of Jesus, who suffered for the sins of all humans so God wouldn't punish them. Abel and Cain, on the other hand, were brothers; God showered Abel with his love but shunned Cain, and Cain became the first murderer of mankind by killing his brother out of jealousy. The story of Abel and Cain doesn't really fit my story in any other way except for the "betraying your loved ones" part... It had more meaning in the original version, but eventually I decided to leave that out and here we are with a poor metaphor, lol. XDD)

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