Summary: Part two in a series about one of the characters in either BTVS or "Angel." Part one was Cordy's story, this is Buffy's. :)
Disclaimer: Joss, FOX, and a whole bunch of other ass-holes own BTVS and everything else having to do with it.
Archive: Wherever.
Feedback: Send it here. (kimmie@quincymail.com)
A/N: On a side note, I think Sarah Michelle Gellar is beautiful. I'm only pointing out that all girls, even the gorgeous ones, feel ugly, -k-?
Buffy flopped facedown onto her bed. Looking at the clock, she groaned, and dropped her head into the pillow. It was 3:30, and she'd just gotten back from patrolling. The phone rang on her nightstand. Buffy rolled her eyes, and rolled over to grab it. "What do you want?"
"Is this a bad time?" Cordelia's perky voice annoyed the hell out of the exhausted Slayer.
"Of course it's a bad time, you idiot! It's 3 in the morning, and I'm so tired, I think I'm going to pass out before I finish yelling at you!" Buffy growled at her.
"So you don't want to know you're favorite happy vampire is on his way to see you? Fine. I'll call back later." This woke Buffy up more than a pitcher of ice water could.
"Cordelia! What? Are you kidding?" Buffy was now screaming, but not out of fatigue, only out of surprise.
"Why else would I call so late? It took me awhile to convince him what he really wanted, but he woke up." Cordelia was laying on the happiness, something she had down to an art from high school.
"But, after all this time, why? What did you say?" Buffy was quiet now. Lamely, she wondered how close he was, and if she had time to fix herself up a little.
"I just told him how obvious it was he was still in love with you, and that Darla was just a dumb fling, and-"
"Okay, that's enough. I get the picture. When did he leave?" Buffy looked at the clock again. 3:42
"Um, maybe half an hour ago." Cordelia's brow was furrowed, trying to remember exactly how long it'd been.
"What took you so long?" Annoyance was creeping into Buffy's voice again.
"I was busy." Cordelia had been. It took her awhile to force herself to stop filing her bleeding nails and wash her hands. Then she had to bandage the worst of them. She prayed Buffy wouldn't press the issue.
"Doing what? Painting your nails?" Cordelia had prayed in vain. Buffy was one to push.
"Close enough. You'd better get painting if you want Angel to recognize you." Cordelia hung up with a slam.
"You..." Buffy slammed the phone down, while muttering something about useless ho's as she stalked into the bathroom to "paint" her face.
Buffy looked into the mirror, studying her make-up less face. As she pulled open her heavy make-up drawer, she wondered why she wasn't as pretty as Cordelia. Even Darla, Faith, had prettier features than she felt she had.
"My eyes should be bigger, and greener. And they should have thicker lashes. My hair is so plain; I look horrible without it curled. My lips are too thin, and my cheeks aren't even half as defined as they should be. Even my eyebrows need work, and my complexion is about as good as a road covered in potholes. I am hideous." As she talked, she worked on her face, liquid eyeliner, contacts, curling, darkening, thickening mascara, two different shades of eye shadow, lip liner in a light shade, lipstick, clear gloss, tweezers, concealing stick, pressed powder, liquid foundation, and finally, loose powder were all applied in record speed. Finally satisfied, Buffy picked up her curling iron and began to work with her limp blonde hair.
Walking out of the bathroom, Buffy checked the mirror one last time. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all? Definitely not me. But if you say Cordelia, I will break you." Buffy glared at the polished glass.
"I say it's you." Angel's voice floated from somewhere behind her. Looking in the mirror, she saw nothing, but felt his arms wrap around her waist.
"That's because you're biased. You love me too much to admit the truth." Buffy turned around to see him.
"What would that be?" Angel looked puzzled. He'd never heard Buffy complain about her looks before.
"I'm so plain. Cordelia's got a complexion to die for. Faith had the prettiest eyes. Even Dawn has something interesting going for her. I'm just, normal. No one would look twice at me." Buffy leaned into Angel's dark form.
"I do." Angel smiled, kissing the top of Buffy's head.
"Well, you're not exactly normal." Buffy rationalized.
"No. But I still think you've got all of them beat."
"How? They hardly have to work to look special."
"You don't live with Cordelia. Believe me. The girl uses more time in the bathroom than anyone I've ever met. In over 200 years."
"Maybe she could teach me a thing or two."
"I don't think so. Are you wearing something different? You look strange today."
"Strange? Define strange?"
"As in, a lot more make-up than I'm used to."
"You don't like it? I've been doing it like this since you left for LA."
"Why are you putting so much on?"
"To cover up my real face."
"Come with me." Angel pulled Buffy gently into the bathroom, and insisted she was her face.
"Fine. But don't blame me if you run away screaming. Why do you think I don't usually wear make-up patrolling? It gives me the edge." Buffy removed her contacts.
"Don't talk. Scrub."
After Buffy had toweled off, Angel stood next to her at the mirror.
"What do you see?"
"You mean other than my flawed face?"
"Look. I see beautiful eyes, perfect for your face. I see perfect lips, rosy cheeks, and stunning hair. Altogether, I see Buffy like she should be. There's nothing wrong with make-up. Some people need it to look their best. But you don't. You should be thankful you don't need it. Everyone else can see that, so why can't you?"
"I don't know. Maybe because it's something that makes me more like the other girls. Maybe it's to hide behind. I just feel so much better caked in make-up."
"Girls in every other time didn't feel that way."
"That's just it! I'm not from every other time. I'm from this one. I want to be more special then all of them! I want to look better, and make you think that I am better, prettier, whatever. I just want you to notice me." Buffy's eyes shone with tears, but she didn't allow them to fall. She just propped herself up on the counter, and waited to be yelled at.
Angel turned her around, and held both of her hands. "Can't you see that you are? I didn't care enough about anyone else to try to get my soul forever. I don't compare you to anyone else, because you're Buffy! How can I compare you to the average female and find you fall short? To me, you're perfect. It doesn't matter what they think, or even what I think. You have to know you're better. Then you'll really feel better. I can't tell you anything that will change your mind; you've already heard it from everyone you know. You have to convince yourself."
"I can do that. I'll start tomorrow. No more caking it on. How does that sound?"
"It sounds great. Now, you're going to bed. I'm sure you're tired."
"I am. But... one thing? Does that include hair? Because mine is so... so blah. I'd die without my curling iron!"
Angel rolled his eyes, and pushed Buffy gently out of the bathroom, and into her room. After the kisses and promises he'd be there in the morning, Buffy rolled into bed and smiled to herself. Even if she wasn't the prettiest, she was the luckiest girl in the world.
Disclaimer: Joss, FOX, and a whole bunch of other ass-holes own BTVS and everything else having to do with it.
Archive: Wherever.
Feedback: Send it here. (kimmie@quincymail.com)
A/N: On a side note, I think Sarah Michelle Gellar is beautiful. I'm only pointing out that all girls, even the gorgeous ones, feel ugly, -k-?
Buffy flopped facedown onto her bed. Looking at the clock, she groaned, and dropped her head into the pillow. It was 3:30, and she'd just gotten back from patrolling. The phone rang on her nightstand. Buffy rolled her eyes, and rolled over to grab it. "What do you want?"
"Is this a bad time?" Cordelia's perky voice annoyed the hell out of the exhausted Slayer.
"Of course it's a bad time, you idiot! It's 3 in the morning, and I'm so tired, I think I'm going to pass out before I finish yelling at you!" Buffy growled at her.
"So you don't want to know you're favorite happy vampire is on his way to see you? Fine. I'll call back later." This woke Buffy up more than a pitcher of ice water could.
"Cordelia! What? Are you kidding?" Buffy was now screaming, but not out of fatigue, only out of surprise.
"Why else would I call so late? It took me awhile to convince him what he really wanted, but he woke up." Cordelia was laying on the happiness, something she had down to an art from high school.
"But, after all this time, why? What did you say?" Buffy was quiet now. Lamely, she wondered how close he was, and if she had time to fix herself up a little.
"I just told him how obvious it was he was still in love with you, and that Darla was just a dumb fling, and-"
"Okay, that's enough. I get the picture. When did he leave?" Buffy looked at the clock again. 3:42
"Um, maybe half an hour ago." Cordelia's brow was furrowed, trying to remember exactly how long it'd been.
"What took you so long?" Annoyance was creeping into Buffy's voice again.
"I was busy." Cordelia had been. It took her awhile to force herself to stop filing her bleeding nails and wash her hands. Then she had to bandage the worst of them. She prayed Buffy wouldn't press the issue.
"Doing what? Painting your nails?" Cordelia had prayed in vain. Buffy was one to push.
"Close enough. You'd better get painting if you want Angel to recognize you." Cordelia hung up with a slam.
"You..." Buffy slammed the phone down, while muttering something about useless ho's as she stalked into the bathroom to "paint" her face.
Buffy looked into the mirror, studying her make-up less face. As she pulled open her heavy make-up drawer, she wondered why she wasn't as pretty as Cordelia. Even Darla, Faith, had prettier features than she felt she had.
"My eyes should be bigger, and greener. And they should have thicker lashes. My hair is so plain; I look horrible without it curled. My lips are too thin, and my cheeks aren't even half as defined as they should be. Even my eyebrows need work, and my complexion is about as good as a road covered in potholes. I am hideous." As she talked, she worked on her face, liquid eyeliner, contacts, curling, darkening, thickening mascara, two different shades of eye shadow, lip liner in a light shade, lipstick, clear gloss, tweezers, concealing stick, pressed powder, liquid foundation, and finally, loose powder were all applied in record speed. Finally satisfied, Buffy picked up her curling iron and began to work with her limp blonde hair.
Walking out of the bathroom, Buffy checked the mirror one last time. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all? Definitely not me. But if you say Cordelia, I will break you." Buffy glared at the polished glass.
"I say it's you." Angel's voice floated from somewhere behind her. Looking in the mirror, she saw nothing, but felt his arms wrap around her waist.
"That's because you're biased. You love me too much to admit the truth." Buffy turned around to see him.
"What would that be?" Angel looked puzzled. He'd never heard Buffy complain about her looks before.
"I'm so plain. Cordelia's got a complexion to die for. Faith had the prettiest eyes. Even Dawn has something interesting going for her. I'm just, normal. No one would look twice at me." Buffy leaned into Angel's dark form.
"I do." Angel smiled, kissing the top of Buffy's head.
"Well, you're not exactly normal." Buffy rationalized.
"No. But I still think you've got all of them beat."
"How? They hardly have to work to look special."
"You don't live with Cordelia. Believe me. The girl uses more time in the bathroom than anyone I've ever met. In over 200 years."
"Maybe she could teach me a thing or two."
"I don't think so. Are you wearing something different? You look strange today."
"Strange? Define strange?"
"As in, a lot more make-up than I'm used to."
"You don't like it? I've been doing it like this since you left for LA."
"Why are you putting so much on?"
"To cover up my real face."
"Come with me." Angel pulled Buffy gently into the bathroom, and insisted she was her face.
"Fine. But don't blame me if you run away screaming. Why do you think I don't usually wear make-up patrolling? It gives me the edge." Buffy removed her contacts.
"Don't talk. Scrub."
After Buffy had toweled off, Angel stood next to her at the mirror.
"What do you see?"
"You mean other than my flawed face?"
"Look. I see beautiful eyes, perfect for your face. I see perfect lips, rosy cheeks, and stunning hair. Altogether, I see Buffy like she should be. There's nothing wrong with make-up. Some people need it to look their best. But you don't. You should be thankful you don't need it. Everyone else can see that, so why can't you?"
"I don't know. Maybe because it's something that makes me more like the other girls. Maybe it's to hide behind. I just feel so much better caked in make-up."
"Girls in every other time didn't feel that way."
"That's just it! I'm not from every other time. I'm from this one. I want to be more special then all of them! I want to look better, and make you think that I am better, prettier, whatever. I just want you to notice me." Buffy's eyes shone with tears, but she didn't allow them to fall. She just propped herself up on the counter, and waited to be yelled at.
Angel turned her around, and held both of her hands. "Can't you see that you are? I didn't care enough about anyone else to try to get my soul forever. I don't compare you to anyone else, because you're Buffy! How can I compare you to the average female and find you fall short? To me, you're perfect. It doesn't matter what they think, or even what I think. You have to know you're better. Then you'll really feel better. I can't tell you anything that will change your mind; you've already heard it from everyone you know. You have to convince yourself."
"I can do that. I'll start tomorrow. No more caking it on. How does that sound?"
"It sounds great. Now, you're going to bed. I'm sure you're tired."
"I am. But... one thing? Does that include hair? Because mine is so... so blah. I'd die without my curling iron!"
Angel rolled his eyes, and pushed Buffy gently out of the bathroom, and into her room. After the kisses and promises he'd be there in the morning, Buffy rolled into bed and smiled to herself. Even if she wasn't the prettiest, she was the luckiest girl in the world.