Chapter 8

"My Princess, are you quite certain that this is a suitable task for a warrior?"

Cordelia smoothed the top sheet, as Groo tucked in the sides. "Absolutely, Groo. Here, all of our warriors are taught to make beds in basic training. There are inspections and everything. It's really quite grueling."

"If you say so, Cordelia. But tell me, why is it necessary to impress this Buffy?'

Cordelia sighed, "When Buffy and I were in high school together, well, we weren't exactly rivals but we were hardly best friends."

"My Princess, if you dislike this person, then I am prepared to dislike her also."

"No No, Groo. No disliking! How can I explain this to you? It's just that I was rich and popular, while she was, well, odd. She could have been almost as popular as I was, but instead she chose to hang out with this group of total dorks and losers. So, I should have felt superior, right? But somehow, while I was out getting my nails done and skiing at Aspen, she was slaying vampires and saving people." Cordelia sighed, "I came to Los Angeles to become a movie star. She stayed in Sunnydale and continued to save people. Last spring she dove off a tower to keep the world from ending. She died, Groo, and was brought back to life by that same bunch of dorks and losers. How can I begin to compete with that?"

Groo looked perplexed. Most of Cordelia's speech was totally incomprehensible to the Pylean warrior, but he made a brave attempt at answering, "But you are a champion too, my lady."

"But I fell into it more or less by chance. Believe, me, Groo, I am not in her league. She could take you!"

"Oh, I seriously doubt that, My Princess."

"Yeah, right. She can take Angel, and has in fact. Don't make the mistake of underestimating her. Well, anyway, are you clear on what has to be done up here?"

"Yes, my princess, and I am to repeat this also in room 222, is that correct?"

"Yes. And don't forget to dust. That earthquake coated everything with ceiling plaster. And please be careful not to wake Angel. He's finally getting some sleep. Now I have to go downstairs and see to our not so welcome guest."

Cordelia left the Grooselug to his cleaning.

Downstairs, Justine sat uncomfortably in a chair, while Fred, Gunn and Lorne finished sweeping and dusting the lobby.

"We really need to get in a cleaning service," complained Lorne, good naturedly, as he dusted the lamp next to Justine's chair, "I am so not made for menial labor."

"What exactly are you?" Justine suddenly asked Lorne. She had been unceremoniously shoved into the chair, when she had arrived with Cordelia, Fred and Gunn, and hadn't been introduced to this tall green creature with the red horns. He was creepy, though in a debonair kind of way, but obviously not a vampire.

Lorne looked at her appraisingly, "What I am, sweetie pie, is the owner of the nightclub, Caritas, which you and your friends blew to smithereens not so long ago."

"Oh." Justine studied her feet for a while and then looked up and spoke loudly, "Why are you treating me like this?"

Everybody stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her. Lorne spoke in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, excuse me. Is your chair not comfy enough? Has your coffee gotten cold?"

"No. I mean, why are you all treating me so nice? I helped blow up your club, I hurt your friend, and I kidnapped the vampire's baby. You could have tied me up here….or called the police. I believe it is still against the law in these parts to slit a person's throat. I wouldn't have fought you."

Cordelia dropped her broom and walked over to Justine, "First of all, you came here voluntarily, so we didn't see any point in tying you up. Secondly, we all learned a long time ago, that when it comes to the supernatural, the police are deeply stupid and worthless."

"When they aren't bein' homicidal zombies, that is," spoke up Gunn.

"That too. So, we prefer not to deal with them if we don't have to. Right now we have one main priority, getting Connor back. And if we can help our friend Wesley, who is in trouble, that would be good too. If you are here to help us do either of those things, then you are welcome. If not…"

"Let's put it this way," continued Gunn, "If you're here to 'get' Angel or to betray us in any way, well we have our own methods of justice that might have you wishin' for the police!"

"See, that's what I just don't understand!" Justine spoke angrily, "How you can give your friendship and loyalty to a…vampire! How you can work for such a creature, and protect him and try to get his child back, a child that he has no right to even have!"

Gunn was the first to answer her, "Look, Justine, I know where you're at, okay? My sister was killed by vampires too. It took me a long time to get my mind around the fact that Angel and I were workin' the same side of the street. We still have our issues, him and me. But the fact is, he's workin' for good, and doin' it in spite of bein' a vampire."

"As for me," spoke up Lorne, "I've read his soul and I know that there is much good there. And he has a purpose and a destiny in this world. Plus, he's given me a home, such as it is, while my club is being renovated."

"He saved my life, and helped rescue me from a bad place." added Fred.

"You said it, honey," added Lorne.

Fred continued, "And he has given me a home, also, and a job that I'm good at."

Cordelia spoke; "Justine, all of that's well and good, but I'm the one you should be listening to, because I've known Angel longer than everyone else here, even Wesley. And I have seen him at his very worst…even worse than what you saw in Pylea, Fred. I've seen him without his soul. As Angelus, he murdered my computer teacher, tortured our school librarian and terrorized my friends and me. Oh…and he tried to end the world. That vampire you could stake with our blessing, if he didn't get you first. But the vampire that's here now, Angel, is not the same person. He has a soul. He is capable of love and goodness. He has been trying to make reparations for what he has done in the past, even though he knows that, ultimately, he never can. Sure, he makes mistakes and screws up, just like the rest of us, but he loves us, and we love him. And he loves his son. And we love him too, as though he was our own. Through Angel we've all come to learn that you can't judge a person simply by the temperature of his skin, but by the way he acts."

Justine opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a voice from the stairs.

"Thank you, Cordy." It was Angel. "But you don't have to sell me to Justine. She has already taken everything from me that she can, unless she is into killing humans too."

Justine stood up and stared at Angel. "Your friends are very loyal."

"Not all of them," Angel snapped bitterly. He looked at the group, "Where did you find her?"

"She found us," Said Fred, "She came to the hospital to see Wesley this morning, and we asked her to come back with us and talk to you."

Angels' face clouded when he heard Wesley's name. "Isn't that touching."

"Wesley was not working with us. That's what I came to tell you."

"And why should I believe you?"

"I cut Wesley's' throat and stole Connor from him."

Angel laughed contemptuously, "Oh I have no doubt that you betrayed him. But that still doesn't mean he wasn't working for you. He met with you people twice."

"He was trying to negotiate a peace between you and Holtz, to get Holtz to leave you alone. But Holtz, and I, wouldn't listen. Instead we tricked him, pretending that Holtz had kicked me out. When Wes came to my rescue, I hurt him and stole Connor."

"Who he just happened to have? Look, we know he stole my son. There is no point in trying to lie for him."

"Yes. He did take Connor. But not for us."

This statement was received like a thunderbolt by all present.

"Then why?"

"To protect him. To save him."

"From whom? Holtz? Wolfram and Hart?" demanded Angel.

"From you." Spat Justine triumphantly. "He was protecting Connor from you. His so called father."

"What are you talkin' about?" demanded Gunn, "That is just plain bullshit!"

"Angel adores Connor! He would never hurt him!" agreed Fred.

"Wesley was delusional," said Lorne, "these last few days, he wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, he looked like an unmade bed. Didn't anybody notice? He spent the last three days glued to that desk."

But Angel was looking at Justine thoughtfully, "Wolfram and Hart spiked my pig's blood with Connor's blood to tempt me to harm him, and I did have some bloodthirsty thoughts, but we discovered that, Wesley and I. It was over. How could he think I would harm my son?"

Justine stared at him, perplexed, "The prophecy. That you would kill your son. Didn't he tell you? Sahjhan told us about it. We took advantage of it to help convince him to steal Connor. To take him away from this hotel where he was protected, so that we could steal him ourselves."

"A prophecy! That's why his desk was so neat. He hid it, and all of his work!" Exclaimed Cordelia, running into Wesley's office. She began rummaging through the drawers, a woman with a purpose.

"I'm goin' over to the hospital, Angel, " said Gunn, "Wes was writin' his version of what happened, since he still can't talk. I'll bring it back and we'll see if it jibes with what the lady, here. says. You stay here," he said to Justine.

"Gunn," Angel asked in a strangled voice, "How…how is Wesley doing?"

"He'll be okay. Take some time, but nothin' important was damaged, the Doc says."

"Good."

Gunn left the hotel. Justine sat back down while Angel went into the kitchen for some coffee. A few minutes later the Grooselug came downstairs smiling triumphantly.

"The upstairs is ready, my Princess. Did I miss anything?"

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