THE GIRL WITH THE "I'S"

WRESTLEMANIA X-7 APRIL 1ST, 2001

April 1st, 2001. Wrestlemania X-7. The biggest ever and the granddaddy of them all. Six titles were on the line. A Rock versus Austin main event, TLC II and a match to decide who was truly the greatest technical wrestler in the WWF. One thing was for sure. It was going to be good.

Angel dressed slowly, covering the rest of her outfit with Benoit’s Wrestlemania jersey. He’d been a complete asshole in training since Thursday, punishing her relentlessly for what she’d done on Smackdown and knowing it was the only place he could get away with hurting her physically without having to let her go.

‘He’s smart, alright,’ Angel thought, rubbing her neck, which had been injured so many times these past few days she was beginning to wonder if it was still there. ‘But I’m smarter and I think he’s finally starting to realize that.’

As if on cue, Benoit appeared in her doorway.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked evenly, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Do you know how to knock?" Angel snapped, reaching for her gym bag.

"Are you ready to go?" Benoit repeated, enunciating each word clearly.

"Oh, Benoyt," Angel smirked. "I was born ready."

"Then get your ass moving," Benoit scowled, turning and leaving.

Angel looked down at her outfit. For the occasion she’d even gone for blue pants rather than her usual black ones and, with the jersey, she was all set for Wrestlemania. Smiling to herself, she shouldered her bag and followed Benoit from the room.

* * * *

"Hi Kevin Kelly." Angel gave him a winning smile as Benoit glared at her out the corner of his eye.

"Hello Angel," Kevin Kelly replied. "How are you enjoying your first Wrestlemania?"

Angel grinned. "It’s great. I love it!"

Kevin Kelly started to say something else, but was silence with a deadly glare from Benoit.

"Are you interviewing me, Kelly?"

Kevin Kelly nodded nervously.

"You think we could start today? Before my match, perhaps?"

Kevin nodded again.

"Good," Benoit said coldly, before turning to Angel. "Wait over there, keep your damn mouth closed and don’t even think about moving."

Angel smirked at him, then walked away without a word.

Benoit turned back to Kevin Kelly, who was watching Angel with a frown on his face.

"Ask me a damn question," Benoit demanded.

"Um," Kevin stuttered. "Uh." He pointed and Benoit turned around. Angel was nowhere to be seen. "She’s gone," Kevin finished lamely.

Benoit took a deep breath. "I can see that. Now, ask me about my match with Angle before I give you a preview of the move that’s gonna make him go tap…tap…tap so fast he’ll look like a damn bunny rabbit!"

Kevin gulped. "Yes, sir."

* * * *

Angel raced down the hallway before Benoit noticed she was gone. She had to see her friends and wish them luck before their match and this could be her only chance.

She burst into their locker room, calling their names breathlessly.

"Edge, Christian, Rhyno!"

The three of them turned to her worriedly.

"Angel, what’s wrong?" Edge asked.

"Are you hurt, Angel?" Rhyno demanded.

"No, no," Angel shook her head. "I just had to come see you guys before your match."

"Aw, that was sweet of you," Christian smiled. "Sit down, we’re talking strategy."

Angel nodded and sat down next to Rhyno.

"Okay," Edge grinned, standing up. "How many times have you and I won the tag titles, Christian?"

"Six."

"That’s right. How about those dorks the Hardyz?"

"Four times."

"And the damn Dudleyz?"

"Three."

"Right again, my brother. So, what does that mean?"

"We reek of awesomeness?"

"Totally. But that’s not all. We know that Matt’s so going to bring his little girlfriend and the Dudleyz have Spike – that’s if either of them are out of hospital after what Rhyno did, right, Rhyno?"

Rhyno nodded rapidly, his breathing heavy.

"But you see," Edge continued. "We don’t care if they do bring along their little screwjob machines, because ours is totally Screwjob Version 9.9, the ultimate model. We have the Rhyno, the man beast and he totally weighs the same as Lita and Spike put together."

"More!" Rhyno announced. "I weigh more!"

"Okay, he weighs more," Edge agreed. "And, unlike Loser and Strike, there’s no stopping this man. The Hardyz hit him with a ladder. Did he care? No, right back up. Twist of Fate onto a steel chair. Did he stay down? Not this man. And finally, the 3-D through a table. Did that stop him? Well, yeah, for a little while it did, but the point is he’s back up today, ready for more. We’ve gotta be like that, Christian. No matter what they throw at us – tables, ladders, even chairs, we have to get up and fight back. Whatever happens – if you're thrown off a ladder you get back up - Buh Buh bomb through a table, get back up. If you’re fighting gladiator-style for the belts and you get knocked down, you get up, grab a ladder and knock the other guy down too! Whatever it takes – even if you have to breathe your last breath of air – even if this is our last match ever. When we leave this arena as seven-time tag team champions, we know for sure, it’ll all be worth it."

Christian smiled psychotically. "Yeah!"

Angel stared at Edge but couldn’t focus. Until now she really hadn’t understood what TLC was about – she’d thought it would be just another match, certainly no worse than that awful table match on Smackdown Xtreme. But now, she saw it clearly. The facts were simple. Six men, and quite likely eight and a woman, were going out to a ring where anything was allowed and tables, ladders and chairs were the order of the day. Of the nine, how many would return unharmed? Angel seriously doubted that any of them would. They would be fighting with standard ladders, painter’s ladders, steel chairs and strong wooden tables with metal supports. There were insane heights involved as they fought to climb a ladder and reach the title belts. All of them had said they would risk their lives and all of them, some more than others, yes, but all of them were crazy enough to do just that. Of the nine, three were her friends, two had been once and one was her cousin. She cared about all of them, she really did. She didn’t even know the Dudleyz but they were people too and she certainly didn’t wish them any harm.

"I don’t want you to die," she gasped but no sound came out. All color had drained from her face and she was hyperventilating.

Rhyno turned to her with a frown. "Angel, are you okay? Are you okay?"

"Whoa!" Christian cried, spotting her. "She’s totally about to hurl!"

Suddenly, the world went gray and Angel slumped forward.

All three jumped over to help her.

"Put your head between your legs!"

"Breathe, dudette, breathe!"

Finally, Angel managed to sit up again, a dazed look on her face. Edge was crouched in front of her.

"You blacked out on us," he told her with a sheepish grin.

Angel suddenly leaped forward and threw her arms around him as she burst into tears.

"Whoa!" Edge said. "Easy, okay, easy. It’s okay, it’s okay."

With Edge’s help, Angel sat back on the bench, wiping away her tears and trying to control her breathing.

"What’s the matter, dudette?" Christian frowned. "You’re like, totally bawling."

"I know," Angel whispered. "I’m sorry, but I have something to say." She put one hand on Christian’s leg and looped her other arm through Rhyno’s gripping Edge’s hand with her own. "Whatever happens tonight," she started. "Now matter what happens, I need you guys to know that you’re my friends and I really, really care about you. I need you to know that."

The three of them grinned.

"We know that, Angel face," Edge told her, reaching out and squeezing her chin.

Angel was still serious. "I need you to promise me you’ll be careful."

"Angel, it’s a TLC match," Edge started but Christian cut him off.

"We’ll be careful. We’ve done this before. Don’t worry."

Angel nodded frantically. "Okay," she smiled. "I just, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you."

"It won’t," Christian assured her. "We totally promise."

"Edge?" Angel asked.

He held up his hand. "Sea Scout’s honor."

"Okay," Angel smiled. "Okay."

"Angel face," Edge said. "You know that if Lita…if she gets involved, we can’t promise she won’t get hurt."

"I know," Angel nodded.

"It’s for the titles," Edge continued.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I don’t want her to get hurt, but if I was her I wouldn’t be going anywhere near the match so…" She trailed off.

"You’re awesome!" Christian announced.

"Thanks, Christian. You’re awesome too."

Suddenly, they heard the door open and there stood Chris Benoit. He stared darkly at Angel, held out his hand and beckoned her. When she gave no signs of moving, he strode across the room, reached over Edge and pulled her up by the front of her jersey. Then he gripped her by the back of the neck and marched her to the door.

"Don’t!" she cried, feeling the pain shoot through her again.

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped, not even pausing.

"Hey!" Edge cried. "Don’t do that! Be careful with her!"

"Yeah!" Christian added. "She’s like sick, dude!"

Benoit ignored them, still stepping towards the door. Behind him, Rhyno started to snort and fume. He took off, but Benoit had already reached the door, so all Angel could hear with a huge crash as Rhyno slammed into the door and then into the ground.

Moaning quietly, Angel had no choice but to let Benoit guide her along.

* * * *

Benoit didn’t let go of Angel’s neck until they reached the locker room.

"You’re sick?" he demanded skeptically.

"Yeah, I’m sick," Angel snapped, still trying to swat his hands away. "Sick of you."

Benoit let out a growl and threw her into the corner of the room. Her back hit the wall and she slid down onto the bench, crying out a little.

"You wanna act like a child, I’ll treat you like one," Benoit fumed. "So sit there, shut up and listen to what I have to say. If you think, if you even entertain the possibility of screwing this match up for me, I will make you more sorry than your tiny little mind can even comprehend. Do you hear me? Well, do you?"

Angel glared up at him as he stood imposingly over her. "I’m not afraid of you."

"No?" Benoit asked, raising his eyebrows. "No? Well, let me tell you something, little girl. You should be. I could shatter every bone in your body using only my hands."

"And if you did, I’d go free," Angel replied evenly.

"Free," Benoit repeated, breaking into a smirk. "Trust me, princess. If that’s the way I choose to go, freedom will be the last thing on your mind. You’d be a lot more worried about whether you could breathe using lungs that are broken up with hundreds of tiny rib fragments, whether your brain would bust out of a crushed skull, whether you could ever walk again on legs that are broken in so many places the doctors have to practically do a jigsaw puzzle to put them back together again. And as for that face that so many people around here love? Well, I bet you don’t even want me to start with that. Don’t worry. If I decide to let you go that way, I guarantee it will be worth my while."

He grinned at her sadistically as she just glared back, her face voice of fear, voice of everything, everything except hate.

"Forget me," she scowled. "You’re the one who’s sick."

"Maybe I am," Benoit shrugged. "And maybe now you’ll think twice about trying me again."

Angel just sat motionlessly, staring up at him and waiting for him to get tired of looking at her. Eventually, he did.

"Stay right here and don’t say a word until it’s time to go," he ordered, before breaking into his smirk again. "Or maybe I will let you go tonight."

Angel just shook her head and sat still. It was going to be a long night.

* * * *

Angel stood silently with Benoit, waiting for Kurt to finish addressing the crowd.

Benoit was in the zone.

"Let him talk," he murmured. "I don’t need words."

Neither did Angel, it seemed. She said nothing as they made their entrance, nothing as they walked down the ramp, nothing as they climbed into the ring. Like Benoit, she let her actions do the talking. On the way down the ramp she slowly unbuttoned her jersey, unseen by Benoit. When she climbed into the ring she ripped it off to reveal a red tank top with the words ‘Angle Angel It’s True!’ emblazoned on it in white letters. Then she stepped up to Angle, shared a smile with him and they touched fists.

Benoit was livid. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?" he demanded.

Angel smirked at him. "Good luck, Benoit. You’re gonna need it," she gloated, before rolling from the ring.

Benoit frowned at her for a moment, then focused on Angle again. No matter what the little bitch was doing, this was Wrestlemania and he had a match to win.

Kurt was trying to psych him out.

"You see that? I got your manager to tow the line. Not even she thinks you have a hope!"

Angel frowned at them as they circled each other before locking up. Tow the line? Obviously, Kurt didn’t know it was she who was using him. It didn’t matter. If Angel had her way, he’d never know.

"Let’s go, Kurt!" she cried, applauding confidently.

Angel frowned as Kurt and Benoit scrambled over one another.

‘What the hell is this?’ she wondered. ‘Why aren’t they punching each other?’

Most of it was circling each other, taking each other down and then clambering around on the mat before getting up to do it all over again. Five minutes in and she’d only even seen one suplex, by Kurt, which she applauded. Technical wrestling sure was weird.

Suddenly, Benoit went for the crossface, but Angle anticipated it and draped his arm over the rope before Benoit even locked on. Angel nodded as the referee forced Benoit to let go.

Again they scrambled, again Benoit went for crossface and again Angle was right next to the ropes. When Benoit released, Kurt climbed from the ring and paced around outside.

"Come on, Kurt. You can do it!" Angel encouraged him, with chants of ‘Angle sucks!’ still filling the air.

Eventually, Kurt was ready to go on, climbing back in the ring to start again. Another takedown and again Benoit went for the crossface. This time he locked it on and Angle reached frantically for the rope. But the second he grabbed it, it fell out of his grasp and it was several more grabs before he had it again.

Benoit argued with the ref for telling him to break the hold as Kurt got to his feet, a confused look on his face. He peered down at Angel, who was looking up at him coolly from where his hand had touched the rope.

"Let’s go, Kurt," she said, clapping her hands.

Angle nodded to himself and turned back to Benoit, decking him with a hard right to the head. Angle picked Benoit up and dumped him from the ring as Angel cheered from the other edge. Kurt paraded Benoit around, bouncing his face off the barricade and then the Spanish announce desk, before whipping him into the steel steps. Kurt stood over Benoit’s prone body then threw him back into the ring again.

A couple of kicks to the kidneys, then a suplex before a cover brought a two count. Another suplex, another cover and another two count, before Kurt felt himself being dragged by the leg. He stood quickly and gave Angel a suspicious look, but she was poker-faced and cheering him on solemnly, so he turned to Benoit again.

"Come on, Kurt!" Angel cried as Kurt continued to wail on Benoit, until he was stopped and forced back with three knife-edge chops. But Kurt wasn’t done, meeting Benoit and sending him into a belly to belly suplex.

"Whoo!" he cried, raising his arms as Angel cheered wildly and the crowd booed.

Another suplex, but this time, Benoit reversed the Irish whip into a clothesline.

Finally, Benoit gained the upper hand, making three confident covers for three two counts.

"Yeah, Angle!" Angel cried as he somehow raised his shoulder after the superplex.

Benoit went for three Germans, but Kurt countered the last into the ankle lock. Somehow Benoit broke the hold, pulling Kurt into an ankle lock of his own. Kurt broke it, but Benoit applied the crossface, only to get a reversal into a schoolboy and then Kurt applied the crossface.

Benoit cried out, desperately trying to move his hand and then his foot towards the rope. Suddenly, he felt his foot being lifted from the canvas and then the ref was telling Kurt to break the hold. Benoit looked up and found that his foot was on the rope. He knew he couldn’t have gotten there himself, which could only mean...

"Come on, Kurt!" Angel cried, staring back at Benoit with cold eyes.

Kurt grabbed Benoit by the leg, but Benoit kicked out, knocking both Kurt and the referee down. He pounced on Kurt and applied the crossface.

Angel started tapping on the apron, still cheering Kurt on. Kurt took the subliminal message and went with it – he tapped.

But the ref was down and Benoit lost his patience, stepping over to ask what the hell was going on. While he was distracted, Kurt caught him from behind and sent him into the Olympic Slam, then made the cover. Benoit raised his shoulder, much to the crowd’s delight.

Kurt was devastated but went for the powerslam, then climbed up top for the moonsault. Angel raised her arms to signal Kurt’s flight, screaming out, "Moonsault!"

Benoit heard her and lifted his knees, just as Kurt flew, slamming them into his stomach.

"Let’s go, Kurt!" Angel cried as Kurt writhed on the canvas.

Benoit found his feet and spread his arms. It was headbutt time. He nailed it, but did as much damage to himself as he did to Kurt. Still, he made the cover, but somehow Kurt kicked out.

"Yeah, Kurt!" Angel cried, wondering how long this was going to take.

Benoit went for more Germans, but Kurt countered with an illegal low blow and then an armbar takeover into a cradle. One…two…three.

Angel’s mouth dropped open. Benoit had lost.

Angle raised his arms as his song played and quickly vacated the ring.

"Way to go, Kurt," Angel smiled as he passed her and continued up the ramp. He never looked back. Perhaps he should have.

Suddenly…crack! A steel chair slammed across his head and he spun around, dazed, to meet with another chair shot, and then a third. Then his attacker was gone, racing back down the ramp.

Kurt Angle watched in complete bewilderment as Angel leaped into the ring, still clutching the chair. Benoit eyed her warily as she slammed it into the canvas and glared at him, signaling her intentions. She raised the chair again, then…

"Here, catch!"

She threw the chair to Benoit, then furiously ripped off her tank to reveal the ‘Prove Me Wrong’ tube top.

Next she raced over, leaped onto the ropes and shouted, the ring mics carrying her voice around the stadium and onto television.

"I’m damn useful to have in your corner, Kurt. But if you want me, you gotta earn me!"

With that, she turned back to Benoit.

"All that help I gave you and you still couldn’t win?" she asked incredulously.

"He pulled my tights down!" Benoit cried.

"So?"

"You can’t do that!"

"I just hit him with a chair. You think you can do that? But I just did it."

Benoit shook his head. "Sometimes I really don’t get you."

Angel nodded smugly. "I know. Let’s just keep it that way, okay?"

* * * *

Kurt Angle was being interviewed by Kevin Kelly.

"Kurt Angle, what a grueling war with Chris Benoit. You may not like the man, but you have to respect him for what he did to you tonight. What a brutal contest it was."

"Respect? Are you crazy? The better man won out there. I mean, please, he had to get a little girl to help him out and he still couldn’t beat me. He tried to cheat, but I beat him fair and square one, two, three in the ring. Now I’ve proven to everyone that I am the best wrestler…"

Wham! Suddenly, Benoit struck him from behind and brought him down into the crossface, making him tap frantically. It took several refs to get Benoit to break the hold and when he did, he turned on Angel.

"Next time, don’t help."

She frowned at him. "First you want me to help and I won’t; then, when I do, you don’t want it anymore? What’s your problem?"

"Kurt Angle thinks he’s better than me. That’s my problem."

"Whatever," Angel shrugged. "I’m going to catering to watch the rest of the show. Shane is going to kick Vince’s ass!"

Benoit regarded her coldly. "I’m going to shower and then I’m going back to the hotel."

"You do that," Angel agreed. "I’ll bum a ride with someone, or I’ll get a taxi." What she didn’t add was, ‘just get the hell out of my sight.’

"Taxi," Benoit repeated, rolling his eyes. "Some chance." He started to leave, then stopped. "Make sure you get that jersey back from ringside. I am not buying you another one."

"I’m sure I can find someone to give me one," Angel murmured, but Benoit didn’t hear her. He was gone.

* * * *

Angel buried her head under her arms as the people around her oohed and aahed at the TLC match. She refused to look because, every time she did, someone she cared about got hurt. All she could hear was crashes as people got drilled through tables and ladders slammed into other, and she still refused to look. Then, after almost twenty long minutes…

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"You think you know me…"

Angel sat bolt upright. "You’re kidding me!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "Oh my God!" She ran, sprinted through the backstage area and down the ramp, past Matt Hardy and Buh Buh Ray Dudley’s motionless bodies. She jumped onto Rhyno, who was trying to help Edge stand.

"You did it! You did it!" she screamed, hugging him tightly, before going for Edge. He cried out in pain and Rhyno grabbed her away.

"Angel," he said quickly. "Go help Christian. Help Christian." He pointed across the ring where a ref was trying to do just that.

Angel nodded. "Okay." She clambered through the ring, past Jeff Hardy, past D-Von Dudley, and finally found Christian. She ducked under his left arm, also helping him hold his title belt as a ref supported his right and they walked him together, over the steel steps, past Lita and towards the ramp.

"I’ve got him," she told the ref, realizing that the three of them wouldn’t be able to get past the tables that littered the ramp.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I’ve got him."

"Okay." The ref let go and went to check on Matt and Buh Buh instead.

"You did it, Christian, you did it!" Angel cried as he stumbled drunkenly up the ramp, clutching at her for support.

"Yeah," was all he could manage, grimacing from the pain.

He fell down once and she helped him up before they finally made it to where Edge had collapsed, right at the top of the ramp. Christian stumbled forward to hug his brother and they all sat together, marveling over what had been achieved. It was some time before any of them moved.

* * * *

Angel waited as doctors checked out Edge, Christian and Rhyno. Each of them had injuries, but none were serious enough to require hospitalization, which was good news.

Then she waited again for them to shower and change. Even though they now had fast-acting painkillers working in them, each task was long and took a lot of effort. Angel would have helped but they actually don’t take too kindly to women in the men’s showers, despite what you might think. So she waited for them to finish, then helped pack their bags and even drove them back to the hotel in Edge’s rental car. When they got there she walked them to their rooms - Rhyno first, then Christian and finally Edge.

"Angel face," he said as she was about to leave. "Stay a while. I want to talk to you."

Angel nodded and stepped back into his room.

"Okay, Edge," she smiled. "Let’s talk."

"Right," Edge nodded, the drugs somewhat addling his brain. "How can I put this? Oh, I know. What you did tonight so totally reeked of sucktitude I can’t even…well, I can’t even go there!"

Angel looked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Kurt’s our friend. You don’t do that to our friend."

"Oh. Kurt."

"Yeah, Kurt. And what you said earlier, about caring about us no matter what happened, that wasn’t even about us. That was totally about Kurt."

"It was both," Angel admitted, eyes downcast.

"Yeah, see, I know you were tight with the Hardyz and all, but I still didn’t expect you to turn out to be such a total reekazoid hosebeast."

Angel took a deep breath. "Look, Edge. You’re drugged up and sore and I’m pissed off and tired, so let’s just get some sleep and talk about this tomorrow."

"No, I don’t wanna talk about it tomorrow. Kurt is our friend and by hurting him, you’re totally hurting us."

"I’m sorry," Angel said. "But I had to."

"You didn’t have to screw Kurt," Edge frowned. "And by screwing Kurt, you screwed us."

"Rhyno pulled the screwjob on your match," Angel protested.

"That’s totally different. Rhyno’s on our side."

"So am I!"

"No, you’re not. Not if you screw Kurt."

"I had to do it, Edge," Angel said again. "It’s my job."

"Your job?"

"Yes. I’m Benoit’s manager. Just like your job tonight was to win the tag titles, mine was to help Benoit beat Angle, whether I liked it or not. We both did what we had to do."

Edge frowned at her. "Well, you know what? Your job totally reeks."

"Yes, Edge. Yes it does."

With that, she left the room and headed back towards her own, hoping with all her power that Benoit was already asleep. She certainly didn’t want to deal with any more of his crap tonight.