DISCLAIMER: the only thing that belongs to me are Angel's thoughts
SPOILERS: end of Buffy season 3 and Angel pilot
FEEDBACK: for this story i will understand if no one does, but if any does i will b estatic since im so new in the writing area: stdragon88@aol.com
A/N: i was watching Angel season one on DVD and this story just popped into my mind so i apologize for it not being that great and so short, i just had to write it
A/N 2:this is wut i think Angel was thinking at the bar
A/N 3: thank u sooooo much for ur feedback: angelbabs, court,meagan g., flounda, and ruth...this really tells me not all my stories suck

//People are drawn here. People, and other things. They come for all kinds of reasons. My reason? No surprise there. It started with a girl.//

"A really, really, pretty girl," slurred Angel. In his mind's eye he could see her, Buffy. How many times had he caressed her face? Inscribed forever were her clear hazel eyes and full lips. Never again would he kiss her and have his cold body warmed by the fire of her kisses.

"No, I mean, she was a hottie girl," Angel rambled on. He stared at the glass of scotch in front of him, touching the glass and pretending it was the smoothness of his beloved's skin.

How he wished he could go back, into the arms of his slayer. But he couldn't. Love made you do the wacky. If he had stayed, there would come a time when he couldn't, wouldn't, resist the thought of a moment, just one moment, with her in happiness.

"She had...her hair...you know, you kind of remind me of her."

Her hair. It shone in the moonlight when he kissed her. His hands would run through the golden loveliness.

The man sitting next to him gave him a look of disgust before turning away.

"'Cause, you know, the hair. I mean you both have hair." /Oh Buffy, if only things could have been different./

Hearing laughter, Angel craned his neck to see. It was a girl with blonde hair. Angel stared a moment before turning back to his scotch.

Whenever Buffy had smiled it was as if all of his defenses were down. In over two hundred years, no one had ever made him feel so complete, happy. So happy, it had almost destroyed them both.

An arrogant looking vampire, who had been playing pool with the girls, was paying the bartender.

Angel laughed before saying, "Girls are nice."

Girls are nice, but Buffy was special.

The happy group of vampires and dinner left the bar. Angel stood up slowly. He was going to kill them, all of them. No evil would cross his path and live.

It was the least he could do for her, always for her.

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