Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with BtVS or AtS. I just like to commandeer characters and mess with them.

A/N: Once again, apologies for the lateness of this update! Good news, though - I have already started work on the next chapter. So hopefully it should be posted by the end of next week, if not sooner. Brief recap: Linea and Zoë were frustrated with their balancing act of Slaying, school, and life. They aired their grievances to Spike, who endeavored to comfort them. We rejoin our Slayerettes and favorite blond vampire a few hours later.

Zoë was hot. Not sexy cheerleader hot, in a short skirt with toned legs; nor yet beach hot, baking under an unforgiving sun. She was sticky sweaty hot, roasting under heavy covers, her ankles wrapped around something cylindrical and encased in rough fabric. Half asleep and muddle-headed, she vaguely noticed an arm-type-thing beneath her head and the soothing feeling of fingers running through her hair. As this last sensation fully registered, Zoë instantly became wide awake. Where was she? What was going on?

The events of the night before trickled back to her slowly. Pity party. Whine fest. Spike. Oh, dear! She was . . . cuddling with Spike? What had felt okay the night before now seemed totally inappropriate. But how could she play this off without seeming like a freak? Sitting upright quickly would probably result in her falling off the bed and screaming as she did so. And what if Linea's parents were home now? They were so screwed. Impossibly, indubitably, inevitably screwed.

To make matters worse, Spike's fingers had withdrawn from her hair. Besides missing the comforting feeling, she was pretty sure this meant he knew she was awake. Her breathing must have given her away. Stupid vampire senses. Zoë steeled herself and opened her eyes.

"Morning," she croaked awkwardly, looking nowhere but the ceiling.

A rakish blond face loomed over her. "Mornin'," the vampire chuckled throatily. "Mind if I take my arm and leg back? I might be needing 'em to fight off Peaches later."

Mortified, the teenage girl immediately untangled her ankles from Spike's right one and sat up so he could move his arm. Glancing about, she saw Linea curled up on the vampire's other side, her ginger head pillowed on his chest. Spike was also playing with her curls.

"Have a hair fetish, do you?" Zoë tried to joke, and then the second half of what he'd said sunk in. "Why are you going to be fighting off Angel?"

Grinning, the vampire slid a hand into his jeans pocket and dug out a black cell phone. "He an' Faith have rung us about a thousand times. I called 'em back a few minutes ago. Apparently we've all got to have some big powwow kumbaya-ya thing tonight, and 'discuss stuff.'" He crooked his fingers into sarcastic air quotes.

"Tonight?"

Spike snorted. "Look 'round you, kitten."

"Oh." Sunlight already streamed around the edges of the closed blinds at Linea's window, leaving a striped pattern on the bedroom floor. "What are you going to do?"

"Hide out here till sunset. Don't worry, pet; we'll figure it out."

"And if Linea's parents come in here?"

"No problem. She's got a closet, yeah?"

Zoë sighed deeply. "So let me see if I have this right. Basically, we're royally screwed."

"'Bout sums it up."

She slumped back onto the pillows, running a hand over her eyes. "Perfect."

"I used to like the twilight, you know."

Illyria turned from her place at the living room's large bay window to find Angel standing behind her. She had heard him approach, of course. The former god-king could always identify her humans and half-humans by their distinctive treads. Knowing that random, unrequested conversations seemed to be the normal mode of communication for her pets, she inclined her head and offered a half-smile.

"Used to?" she probed, wondering what it would take for him to stop wearing dark colors. It was depressing. Did it signal inner turmoil? Not for the last time, she missed Wesley. He was more straightforward and less dramatic than these vampires.

Angel returned the smile. "When I was a lad, dark meant my father would soon be asleep and I could sneak out." He noticed the casualness of her clothes today – faded jeans, a blue t-shirt, a heather gray zippered hoody that Andrew had left in the coat closet, and fuzzy green socks, a gag gift from Spike. Her blue and brown hair was gathered into a sleek low ponytail. It was a very normal, relaxed look – Zoë, Linea, and Faith all dressed similarly – but it was very unusual for Illyria. "Are you all right?"

His once-over had not escaped her keen powers of observation. "Angel." While still firm, her voice was softer than was her wont. "I am fine. I have recently come to realize that I am not entirely myself." Illyria hesitated. This next part would hurt him, but he had been the one to instigate this tête-à-tête, and he would need to know eventually. "The remnants of Fred in this body – the imprints, the memories, the whispers of her soul – are such that I will forever be part me and part her." She saw pain in the tight lines of his face and pressed on. "Angel. She was a unique human. The echoes that remain assure me of her love for you, for Spike, for Charles Gunn. Fred can teach me what humanity means better than Wesley or Faith, although both of them have tried. And perhaps she can live on in me. Would that be so awful?"

"No." The vampire did not meet her eyes, but he extended his arms and enfolded her in an embrace. It was the first one Illyria had experienced in a long, long while. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean into him. This didn't make her weak, she reasoned. Not when she could still punch a hole through him with her magic.

"Thank you," she said as the hug reinforced her determination to carry out her new project.

They stood there a moment longer, listening to the sounds of cars in the drive. The back door opened and closed, and Faith greeted the newcomers with cheerful innuendo. A whole herd of feet tramped down to the basement. Illyria extricated herself from the hug with another half-smile.

"Meeting time." Angel faked a cheesy grin. "This is going to be interesting."

Oh, yes. Illyria was counting on it.

The pair headed downstairs to find the others waiting in the large common room that Linea had dubbed "the lair." The Slayerette in question sat with Zoë on a tan leather couch, pointedly not looking at the twin piece of furniture where Spike was updating Faith on the events of the last twenty-four hours. Smirking, the older Slayer scribbled notes on a legal pad in her lap. Angel and Illyria exchanged glances at this before taking their own seats: he in a bean bag chair near the two teenagers and she on an ottoman beside Gunn's recliner. Now that all the halfway house denizens were present, the meeting could begin.

Faith listened to Spike's story for another minute or so, observing the others with her peripheral vision. Gunn looked uptight; his back was nowhere near touching that of his recliner. Also, he kept fidgeting with his hands. Zoë and Linea were obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable. Neither could look her in the eye. Good. They would be getting crap about their little slumber party with Spike for the next ten apocalypses. As usual, Blue was unreadable. She probably had something up her sleeve . . . again. Thankfully Angel didn't appear to be hiding any secrets. The Slayer glanced down at her list. Okay, time to start.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, she began, "Evening, everyone. Thanks for coming to this, er, council thing." Linea mouthed "The Council of Faith" to Zoë, and the two burst into silent giggles. Faith ignored them. "Anyway, several issues have come to my attention lately, and I thought we should all talk them through. Here's what I've got: a better Slaying schedule, jobs, a new cleaning roster, and future plans for the house. Anybody have something to add?"

A chorus of negatives answered her. Illyria simply smiled inscrutably. Gunn, however, twisted in his chair.

"Actually, yeah. Rona and I have been talking a lot lately. We're getting serious, and we'd like to move in together. Maybe someday get married."

Zoë and Linea perked up at the mention of marriage and instantly pulled out their phones to start texting one another.

Noticing their enthusiasm, Gunn grinned. "So I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Monsters don't make us money. And even if Rona and I don't work out, someday I do want to get married and have a family. But I don't want to do it on the government's dole, or the Council's, and I don't want what happened to Doyle, Wes, or Cordy to happen to my wife or kids."

He's quitting the biz! Linea speed-texted to Zoë.

I know. What do you think that means for us?

"What will you do?" Angel wanted to know.

The other man shrugged. "I'm a pretty good mechanic."

"Car thief," coughed Spike.

"I'm pretending I didn't hear that. Anyway, there are a few good technical schools that offer mechanic training in Cleveland. Thought I'd apply, get some more training, a certification, maybe, and then get a job. Maybe someday move back to California, open up my own place. In the meantime, I could still help out with all the big apocalypses. Even go on patrol if you guys are really shorthanded. What do you guys think?" His eyes sought out Angel, the friend who had brought him into this crazy world of Slayers in the first place. Sure, so his turf war with the vampires hadn't been caused by Angel, per se, but the fact that he'd stuck around the years of insanity . . . yup, that one was definitely Angel's fault.

"It sounds like you've thought everything through." The dark-haired vampire smiled wistfully, unable to completely quash his jealously of Gunn's ability to pursue a normal life. "Best of luck, old friend."

"Thank you."

"We'll miss you, big guy."

"Aw, Faith. I hate to leave you with the two fanged toddlers –"

"Oi!"

"Watch it!"

"But you're getting married," Zoë finished for him dreamily.

"Right she is! Let's have a few beers to celebrate!"

"No, Spike. We need to do this sober," Faith reprimanded.

"Fine. Gimme the damn list." Spike reached over and pilfered the legal pad. "Okay. Item one, new Slayer schedule. Easy. You do Sunday-Tuesday-Thursday. The girls'll do Monday-Wednesday-Friday. Everyone does Saturday, and you trade schedules every week. All Slayers are accompanied on patrols by at least one vampire, ex-god, or car thief."

"Mechanic," Gunn protested half-heartedly.

"Whatever. All agreed on my excellent planning? Good. Moving on to jobs. Gunn's figured out he wants to be a mechanic. Faith teaches self-defense."

"And Zumba," the Slayer in question added with a grin. "Just got certified this afternoon."

Spike wrinkled his face in contempt. Now the Latin dance music obsession was never going to end. Even Angel sighed dourly. Any and all derisive remarks were buried under squeals of enthusiam from the Slayerettes. This was the best thing to happen in ages! Now they could practice their salsa moves while Slaying.

To shut them up, and only half sarcastically, the blond vampire declared, "Well, I'm going to start a rock band."

The other inhabitants of the room raised their eyebrows.

"What? I could do it! Or write poetry. I could be the next Shakespeare, Keats, or Silverstein."

Angel was starting to have some very unpleasant William the Bloody Awful Poet flashbacks. With a shiver, her changed the subject. "Cleaning roster. Go."

"Make a pie chart with chores and everybody's names on it." Zoë sighed. "Rotate the chart every week. I can do it. Got to make a new one for my brothers anyway. About the whole job thing . . . Linea and I want to go to college. We want graduate degrees, professions, families, health insurance, 401k's – the whole enchilada. We're tired of lying to our parents, siblings, and friends. We want normal teenage relationships, even if that is a contradiction in terms. Lin's last guy broke up with her cuz she was so busy Slaying that he thought she was cheating."

Gunn, Spike, and Faith all winced for Linea. "Ouch," muttered more than one person under their breath.

Zoë forged ahead. She had to, or she would never get this out. "I know we're only juniors, but the SAT and ACT are coming up, and we need to be ready. I love Slaying. The adrenalin rush, hanging out with you guys, being able to protect the people I love from the dangers they don't even know exist . . . but it isn't enough for me. And at the same time, it's too much. I want to be a physical therapist someday. I want to heal people, not just kill things."

Flushing slightly, Linea picked up where her best friend left off. "And I want to be a physicist. Look, Faith, we don't mean to diss you or Buffy or what ya'll have done, but neither of you graduated from college. You dropped out of high school. There are so many Slayers now. Can't we chase our dreams and fulfill our calling? Can you please talk to Buffy or Giles – someone in charge – and find out for us?"

"Sure," Faith replied smoothly, her face impassive. Thanks to Spike, she had seen this coming. "I'll talk to someone. In the meantime, the Victorian vocab vampire twins can help you with your exams. We can work the Slaying around your school. I'm screwed up, but there's no reason for you to be."

Something had been damaged here, and Linea wasn't sure how to fix it. The older woman's facade was too brittle and tired. "Faith, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Zoë and I, we're screwed up already. And if we get through this Slayer thing any less screwed up than you, it's because we have you. You're our Watcher and Big Sister and hopefully soon, our Zumba instructor. I know I've done a lot of griping lately, but navigating through this Bermuda triangle of high school, teenagerdom, and Slayerness would be impossibly hard without you."

"Group hug later?" suggested Zoë timidly.

Faith laughed. "You turning into Angel now? And speaking of hugs, didn't you get plenty of those last night?" she inquired archly.

The Slayerettes both turned beet red and stopped talking. Spike looked nauseatingly pleased with himself.

"All right, ladies, Pouff, and Gunn. Serious stuff's over. Super Smash time!"

"Oooh! Can we order a pizza?"

"Please! With pineapple?"

"Wait." Illyria rose from her ottoman and held up a hand commandingly. "I have something that I wish to discuss." Everyone fell silent and stared up at the fierce god-king. She was never one for sharing, so it must be important. Illyria's piercing eyes swept the room, ensuring her audience was properly cowed and would not interrupt. Satisfied, she continued, "I have been looking into removing that inane Gypsy curse and attaching Angelus's soul permanently to his body. And I believe I can do it."

A/N: Next up: further discussion of Illyria's plans. Faith makes a phone call. There's a nasty encounter with a slime demon. Further in the future: Angel as an SAT tutor, Spike gives dating advice, someone tries to bring a friend back from the dead, and Zoë's favorite couple goes on a date. At long last, this story has direction again! Let me know what you thought of this chapter, what you'd like to see happen at the Halfway House, or any BtvS/AtS characters you'd like to "guest star." Thanks for sticking with me and for taking the time to read!

AiH