Cordelia: Ever since you came back from your grief trip, I can tell that something's not right. And-and *obviously* it's not. Buffy's dead, and I don't mean to diminish that. I miss her too. I just wanna say, I know that James, with all his Romeo and Juliet madness, opened up a lot of wounds for you, but you'll be okay.
Angel: I am okay.
Cordelia: Then - What's the problem?
Angel: That I'm okay. That losing Buffy didn't kill me. That I could deal with it. In all those years, no one ever mattered. Not like she did. And now she's gone... forever.
Cordelia: And you're still here.
Angel: Yeah. It just feels like I'm betraying her somehow.
Cordelia: No! If you were a loser, if you were a sick obsessed vampire, then you'd go to a Snod demon, or whatever, and get your heart cut out. But you're not! You're a living, breathing... - well, living, anyway... - good guy, who's still fighting and trying to help people. And that's not betraying her, that's honoring her.
Angel: You think?
Cordelia: I'm Cordelia. I don't think. I know. Okay?