A/N: Here you are, you lucky people. The sequel to my fic "Heaven Can Bloody Well Wait"! This continues my AU Spuffy story into Season 7. And I have to say, I'm pretty darn excited to see where this takes me. Happy reading! :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the show.)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

Well, I died a million times

And I picked my culture well

And I built myself a gate

They can all now go to hell

I'm never gonna work another day in my life

The gods told me to relax

They said I'm gonna be fixed up right

I'm never gonna work another day in my life

I'm way too busy powertripping

But I'm gonna shed you some light

-Monster Magnet, "Powertrip"

Deep beneath the earth, directly under a new building constructed on top of the rubble of another, a young girl examined a particular spot of ground with an air of regret. She was petite, yet sturdily built. Her dark hair was cut short and in a pixie-ish style that suited her green eyes and freckled nose. She was wearing black cargo pants and a dark blue, long-sleeved tee. And her life had yet to exist.

"Whoa. That's a grim look you got on that borrowed face," a second figure emerged from the darkness. In life, he was Warren; in death, a mere costume for a being both infinitely powerful, yet utterly powerless. His face was set in a disdainful sneer as he approached his twin. "You're not thinking of actually stepping up and doing something, are ya, Sparky?"

"I won't have to," the unnamed girl answered, "You can't win this."

"You mean the almighty Powers That Be won't let me?" Not-Warren waved his hands in sarcastic alarm, "Oh, no! They might give me a stern talking to!"

"Not the Powers," the girl stated calmly.

Not-Warren snorted, "What, the Slayer? Get real, sibling o' mine. I'm beyond her understanding. She's a girl! With sugar and spice and everything useless, unless you're baking. I'm more than that. More than flesh..."

He morphed into the form of Glory, the insane hellgod. "More than blood," she continued, "I'm... Y'know, I honestly don't think there's a human word fabulous enough for me." She grinned at her silent twin. "Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips. Assuming their lips haven't been torn off. But not just yet. That's all right, though."

Glory became Adam, pacing the underground chamber like a caged tiger. "I can be patient. Everything is well within parameters. She's exactly where I want her to be."

"Is that right?" the girl spoke up, clearly unfazed by her twin's posturing.

The entity known as the First Evil transformed yet again, from Adam into Mayor Wilkins "So, what'd you think?" he challenged with his signature carefree grin, "You'd get her and the Intended to hook up and everything would be jim-dandy? All you did was give the Slayer one huge, exploitable weakness. Love's slipperier than a greased weasel. And the heart is so...breakable." His expression became something passing sympathetic. "Well," he sighed, "you probably had some romantic notion about love conquering all, and I respect that. But it never will."

"This world will be mine," the First Evil said, now in the guise of Drusilla, "And you'll be in the dark with me again, forever singing our little songs." She traced an outline of the girl's cheek with one sharpened fingernail. The gesture was strangely affectionate. "You like our little songs, don't you?" Not-Dru cooed, "You always have, right from the beginning."

She changed once again, into the ancient vampire known as the Master. "And that's where we're going," he declared, "Right back to the beginning. Not the Bang. Not the Word. The true beginning." He circled the chamber, his stride unhurried. "The next few months are going to be quite a ride," he mused, "and I think we're all going to learn something about ourselves in the process. You'll learn you're a pathetic schmuck, if it hasn't sunk in already." His already wrinkled nose creased further in disgust. "Look at you," he scoffed at his twin, "Trying to do what's right, just like her. You still don't get it. It's not about right. It's not about wrong."

One more transformation, and the girl found herself confronting the image of Buffy. The blonde smiled serenely. "It's about power."

"No," the girl—the First Good—responded without rancor, "It's about the balance of power. That's what you never wanted to understand. That's why the Powers That Be had to have you imprisoned here at the Hellmouth."

"Right. I'm stuck here while you get to roam free," Not-Buffy sneered, "Their obedient little lapdog. And what do you do with your freedom? Nothing. Just sit back and watch while those disgusting insects crawl over the skin of the world, living their short, pointless lives."

The First Good sighed, tired of the same old arguing. "The only thing pointless is this conversation," she said, "Neither one of us is gonna change our minds, so we might as well get on with it."

"At least we can agree on that," the First Evil waved a negligent hand at her twin, "Now, if you don't mind, I have a war to orchestrate. And I'm sure you need to find a good spot to do your watching." She grinned contemptuously. "Enjoy the show."

The First Good smirked, as if she knew something her twin didn't. "Oh, I will." She vanished in a brief flash of light.

The First Evil scowled. "Bitch."