A/N - This chapter is the closest (along with another certain something used later) that this fic gets to real person fic. While it's my intention to focus on the characters at all times, I will sometimes bring real life thingies into it. Any characters from these people's real lives that I may mention or even use are just that, characters, included to make my story more interesting (at least I hope so) and are usually portrayed non-specifically, although if I know names I will sometimes use them. I have never met any of these people (except Kidman, Torrie and Edge, lol) and do not harbor any ill feelings towards them whatsoever. That said, on with the fic…

BENOIT? HUMAN?

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 2ND, 2001

When Angel woke up, her mind was focused and clear. Today she had one goal – work on her three men. Although she’d been telling the truth – she wasn’t afraid of Benoit, she also knew very well that he too had spoken the truth. If he wanted to kill her, he could kill her. She had to get out and hopefully, in the shape of Kurt Angle, Test or Rhyno, she had the key. Each of them had strong motivations that she’d picked out almost immediately – Kurt with jealousy, Rhyno with loyalty and Test with lust.

Rhyno would be the easiest – just point him in the right direction and send him on his way. But if Edge had been talking to him it could be very bad. The other problem with Rhyno was the same one that had lost her Team eXtreme – friendship. By pitting Matt, Jeff and Lita against Benoit she’d lost them. She didn’t want the same to happen with Rhyno. So, despite the fact that Rhyno was the easy answer, he had to be her last resort.

Especially after last night, Kurt would be the hardest, but, if Angel could pull off her plan, he was the one who had the best chance of winning. After all the times she’d helped Benoit, Angle had still won, and that was the other thing. Kurt was willing to cheat, and cheat subtly in order to be victorious. That was the kind of person Angel needed to fight for her. She knew, even if Kurt didn’t, that he didn’t even want her. He just thought he did. Once she was working for him, he’d realize ‘oh heck, I don’t need a manager after all. I mean, I’m an Olympic freaking gold medallist’. And he’d let her go. It was the perfect solution – she just had to make it happen.

Test had been a surprise, and he was somewhere in the middle. She’d have to keep working on him, just in case things with Angle didn’t work out.

Angel just lay in bed, thinking, plotting, and planning, until her alarm sounded. It was time to go to training.

* * * *

Angel thoughtfully tapped her head with her pen. After another strenuous training session she’d showered and dressed and now sat on her bed with a notepad in her lap, thinking of the right words.

"What are you doing?" Benoit demanded.

Angel lifted her eyes and found him standing in her doorway.

"That’s really none of your business," Angel informed him.

"No?" Benoit asked, taking a few steps into the room.

Angel hurriedly gathered up her notepad and glared at him as he continued to approach.

"If you must know, I’m writing to my parents. If I post it today it should get there by Easter. There, are you happy?"

Benoit physically stopped in his tracks, nodding at her thoughtfully. "If you’re ready to go a little early, we’ll hunt down a post office on the way to the arena."

Angel frowned her surprise. The thought that she now had two letters to write slipped quickly out of her mind and was replaced by something else.

"That’s uncharacteristically nice of you," she blurted.

Benoit shrugged, unaffected. "Family," he said simply.

Angel stared at him quizzically. "Do you have family, Benoit?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Of course I have a family," Benoit scowled. "What the hell do you think?" He glared at her, challenging her to make some snide remark about robots.

Angel shrugged indifferently. "You just never talk about it."

"Well, do you ever talk about yours?" Benoit challenged.

Touché. "Okay," Angel said evenly. "Let’s talk about family."

Benoit just stared at her expressionless, waiting for her to ask, knowing that now the topic was up, she had to know. It was killing her.

She hid it well. "You seem to think you know all the ins and outs of my romantic life, so what about you? You got a girlfriend, Benoit? A boyfriend, perhaps?"

Still standing solemnly in the doorway, Benoit slowly raised his left hand. There, on his ring finger, was a wedding band.

"Bullshit!" Angel cried. "No way. You’re married?"

Benoit just nodded, eyebrows raised.

Angel shook her head in disbelief. "How have I never seen that before?"

"I take it off when I fight," Benoit informed her. "I don’t want to lose it."

"No shit," Angel muttered, giving him a strange look. "Who the hell would marry you?"

Benoit was used to her crap and didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Instead, he reached for his wallet and threw it at her.

Angel frowned at him uncertainly and picked it up, then slowly opened it. The dark eyes of a brunette woman stared at her from a photograph.

"She’s pretty," Angel mused, switching her gaze to the other pictures in what was almost a collage. "Kids, too?"

Benoit nodded again.

"Wow," Angel breathed, closing the wallet and tossing it back to him. "You mustn’t see them very often."

"I see them," Benoit replied quietly.

"Not since I’ve been your valet, and that’s more than a month now," Angel challenged.

Benoit simply shrugged. "I see them," he repeated.

Now Angel wore a frown again. "How can you be so nonchalant about this? Your wife is gorgeous, far better than you deserve, and that baby is absolutely beautiful. If I were you I’d want to be with them every second. I’d go home between Raw and Smackdown, Smackdown and Heat, or if I couldn’t I’d bring them on tour with me."

"Then it’s a damn good thing you’re not me, isn’t it?" Benoit said a little testily.

"Some things are more important than winning and grudges and titles!" Angel cried.

"No, princess. That’s where you’re wrong."

"But they’re your family, Benoit!"

"And I told you I see them!" Benoit snapped.

Angel shook her head furiously, setting her gaze and her jaw before she spoke. "I guess I shouldn’t be surprised," she said slowly. "After all, you’re a lousy boss. Of course you’d be a lousy husband and a lousy father."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed, his face bright red. "You are neither my wife nor my daughter, so don’t you dare pass judgement on things you know nothing about. You hear me? Don’t you dare!"

With that, he slammed the door closed, leaving Angel alone.

She scowled to herself furiously. He may have been pissed with her, but she was pissed with him too. Pissed that he could be so detached about people he was supposed to love. But what upset her more was the fact that it wasn’t this that she was the most pissed about, even though it should have been. Benoit had a family. He wore a wedding ring and kept pictures of them in his wallet, so no matter how he treated them, it was clear that he cared, at least on some level. And that made him human. The last thing Angel wanted was to humanize Benoit. It made her feel – what – regretful about what she was going to do? Regretful? Impossible! Benoit wasn’t human – he was a monster. A brutal, uncaring, unfeeling monster. Ange she was going to escape from him, no matter what. Still scowling, she tore off the top page of her notepad and started to write.

Kurt,

I know you’re probably wondering why I did what I did last night. The short answer is, it had to be done. It in no way reflects how I feel towards you; I was simply doing my job – a job I could be doing for you. My situation with Benoit is complicated, and there are really only two ways out of it. What we tried last night isn’t one of them. I refuse to compromise my integrity just because I hate Benoit. There is a way out, though, and, if you’re still interested, I want to discuss it with you. If you can forgive me for what I did, meet me in the hotel bar after Raw and we’ll work out where to go from there. If you don’t show, that’s okay, I guess I’ll be stuck helping Benoit against my will forever.

Hope I see you,

Angel

* * * *

Benoit hadn’t spoken to her all day. He was truly, truly pissed. True to his word, he’d found a post office and waited as Angel mailed a hurriedly scrawled note a to her parents. He also picked up her meals, as usual, but these were the only recognition of her existence he was giving. Sometimes he’d stare at her coldly and other times he refused to meet her gaze at all, but he never spoke and it was driving her insane. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and broke the silence.

"I’m going to go see Regal now."

Benoit didn’t even acknowledge her words.

"Any preferred opponents?"

No answer.

"Come on, you know you want a piece of Angle again."

Still no response.

"Fine," Angel mused. "You stay here and sulk. But I’m not going to listen to you complain if I can’t get the match you want."

She stormed off before he could respond, even if he had been talking.

* * * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Kurt opened the door. "Angel, what the heck…?"

"Here, Kurt, read this," Angel cut him off, thrusting the note at him. "Or get someone else to read it for you, it really doesn’t matter." She started off again.

"What are you trying to say, that I can’t read? Well, you listen to me, Angel. I could make you…"

"Just read it, Kurt!" Angel called over her shoulder, not in the mood to stop and find out exactly what he could make her do.

"Commissioner Regal, here I come," she muttered. It was going to be interesting. Regal had never seen her pissed off before and she didn’t know whether she could restrain herself.

"Hello there, Angel."

She stopped at the voice. It was so soft and deliberate it could penetrate the iciest silence. She slowly turned, a smile on her face at last.

"Hi Test. How are you?"

"I’ve been better." He sighed melodramatically and pointed at his waist, where his title belt should have been. "See? I’m naked."

"I’m sorry," Angel replied sympathetically. "I really wanted you to win."

Test shrugged. "These things happen. Doesn't matter. I’ll be getting my own back tonight when me and a couple of other guys kick the crap out of the Radicalz. Which reminds me, are you busy right now?"

"Well, I’ve gotta go see Regal and get a match for Benoit, but that can wait."

"Great," Test smiled. "Then follow me."

* * * *

"Test, about time you showed up," Faarooq grumbled.

"Relax," Test smiled. "I brought another player."

"Kat’s friend!" Bradshaw cried. "I’ll play with her any day."

Angel smiled at the Acolytes and Jackie. "Hey guys. Congratulations on beating RTC last night. I only wish I could have been there to help."

"You can help me by losing a few rounds, honey," Bradshaw informed her.

"So, this is cool?" Test asked.

Faarooq nodded. "Yeah, it’s coo. Sit your asses down and let’s get started."

Angel sat next to Test as Faarooq dealt the cards.

"White girl, you wantin’ a cigar?" Jackie asked.

"No thanks," Angel smiled, peering at her cards and discarding three of them.

"Beer, honey?" Bradshaw offered.

Angel nodded slowly. "I won’t say no."

"Okay!" Bradshaw grinned as Angel reached for a beer. "No, sugar, I got this one special just for you." She reached for it just as he flipped the top and it sprayed all over her, drenching Benoit’s Wrestlemania jersey, which a nice referee had retrieved from ringside and returned to her. "Yee haw! Honey, it looks like you’re takin’ a handicap into this game. You’re gonna wanna get out of that wet shirt real fast!"

After flapping about urgently, Angel summoned all her dignity and calmly wiped her face dry. "A little bit of beer never hurt anyone." To prove it, she grabbed a beer from the table, opened it herself and took a long swig. "Show us what you’ve got, guys."

Test leaned into her. "Are you okay?" he asked, chuckling quietly.

Angel smiled at him. "Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?"

Test shrugged. "If that had happened to Trish, she probably would have started crying or something."

"Well," Angel smiled. "I’m not Trish."

Test nodded approvingly. "No, you’re certainly not. I’ve got two pair."

Angel peered down. "Two nines." She suddenly realized that everyone was staring at her. A cold dread washed over her and it wasn’t just from the beer shower. "I lost, didn’t I?" She didn’t need an answer. "Well, Bradshaw, it looks like you get your wish. I’m losing the shirt."

"She’s losing the shirt!" Bradshaw cried joyfully.

Angel stood up, unbuttoned her jersey, removed it, folded it neatly and hung it over the back of her chair. "Bring it on!" she cried, sitting down again.

"It looks better off you anyway," Test whispered.

Angel smiled at him. "I know. It doesn’t suit me. It’s Benoit’s."

Test frowned. "You know, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him, but are you and him…?"

" Me and Benoit?" Angel cried incredulously. "God no! He’s got a wife somewhere up in Canada. I need two, thanks, Jackie."

"And how about you?" Test implored her.

Angel grinned at him, running her tongue over her teeth. "I don’t have a wife."

Test nodded, an interested smile on his lips. "Good. Neither do I."

"You think you people can show your cards now?" Faarooq asked.

"Simmer down, you grumpy old drunk," Jackie argued. "The young folk is having theirselves a moment."

"I don’t care what they’re doing!" Bradshaw cried. "I wanna see Kat’s friend get nekkid!"

"Test, what you got, brother?" Faarooq asked.

"Three of a kind," Test replied, slamming his cards down without taking his eyes off Angel.

"Angel?" Faarooq questioned.

Before Angel could answer, Bradshaw cut in. "From where I’m settin’ I can see she’s got herself a pair and they be lookin’ mighty fine!"

Angel stared at him smugly. "Two pair, actually."

"Two pair?" Faarooq asked, gathering up the cards as Bradshaw removed his shirt, having lost the round. "Now that I’d like to see."

It was Test’s turn to deal. He sent the cards flying round the table and Angel frowned at her hand.

"What do you need?" Test whispered, barely audibly.

"A miracle, by the looks," Angel frowned.

Suddenly, Angel felt some cards tapping her in the back.

"Trade you," Test murmured.

Angel quickly switched cards with him, knowing her new hand couldn’t possibly be any worse. Their hands touched briefly and Angel’s eyes flickered up to Test’s. Had he felt that? She dismissed it. It was probably just because they were flirting so heavily.

She peered down at her new cards and her eyes almost fell out of her head. "I’ll take one, thanks, Test," she said calmly.

"One it is," Test replied.

"What you got, honey?" Bradshaw asked hopefully.

Angel laid out her cards. "Four queens."

Bradshaw let out a low whistle. "That beats my two fours."

"Three aces," Faarooq announced. "Two of each man," Jackie said, holding up kings and jacks. "Test?"

"I got nothing," Test shrugged, gathering the cards.

Jackie was not impressed. "Just because you brought your woman, it don’t mean you gotta stack the deck, boy."

Test nodded smugly and pulled off his shirt. "If I was stacking, do you really think I’d have made myself lose?"

Jackie stared at his perfectly sculptured body. "That’s exactly what I’m sayin’."

"Hold on one minute," Bradshaw protested. "You ain’t his woman, are you?"

Angel smiled over at him. "I’m no one’s woman," she told him. "Not yet, anyway."

Bradshaw blinked, then gulped down a can of beer in one go. "Deal out them cards, honey. I have a feelin’ your luck’s about to run out. And mine? Well, it’s just startin’!"

Angel dealt her round and turned to Test. "Don’t you wanna see me ‘nekkid’?" she asked, mimicking Bradshaw.

Test just smiled. "Sure I do. I just don’t want anyone else around when it happens."

"You’re very sure of yourself."

Test shrugged. "When you know what you want, why shouldn’t you be?"

"And what is it you want, Test?"

Test lowered his gaze. "I shouldn’t have to spell it out. You’re a smart girl."

"Okay, everybody, lay ‘em down!" Bradshaw ordered. "And while I’m talkin’ about layin’…"

* * * *

"Uh oh," Angel said as she lost yet another round. She was all out of footwear. It was time for the big choices.

"Take your top off!" Bradshaw encouraged her. "I’ve been waitin’ and waitin’."

"Sorry," Angel shrugged. "It’s going to have to be the pants."

"Don’t apologize for that!" Bradshaw cried. "Hot damn, but this is one of my better days."

Angel slowly removed her pants and sat down again. One more loss and she was in big, big trouble.

"Damn, girl," Bradshaw mused. "You’re hotter than Death Valley in July."

Angel gave him a dazzling smile, but she was starting to freak out. Unlike Kat, she really wasn’t the public nudity type.

She held her arms by her sides as Jackie dealt the round, hoping she wasn’t trembling too noticeably.

Test shot her a sideways glance, then slowly raised his hand to her forehead. "You’re sweating," he smiled.

"I’m in deep shit," she admitted, sounding so worried he moved his hand over hers.

"Don’t worry. You’ve got a bra under that tube top, don’t you?"
Angel said nothing.

"Well," Test grinned. "You better start praying."

The APA talked amongst themselves, giving Angel and Test time to remember they were in a card game. For some time now, they hadn’t just been entertained by the strip poker game. They were watching the Test and Angel show.

"If they start necking on the table, I’m leaving," Faarooq announced.

"I’m not," Bradshaw replied. "I wanna see some gettin' it on!"

"How many cards y’all need?" Jackie asked.

Angel’s moment of truth had arrived.

"Four," Angel blurted. Test gave her a sympathetic frown. That couldn’t mean anything good.

"Let’s do this quick and painlessly," Angel suggested as they all got ready to show their cards.

"Painless for you, maybe, honey, but I’m about ready to have a heart attack!" Bradshaw told her.

"Two threes," Angel said quietly. The others looked at each other before Bradshaw let out a whoop of delight.

"Take off that top! Oh yeah, it’s bra and panties time! Kat’s friend is getting nekkid!"

Angel was absolutely crushed. She got to her feet and put her hands on the bottom of her tube top, ready to pull it off. She pulled the bottom away from her flesh, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

"We forfeit!" Test cried, leaping to his feet and putting his body between Angel and the APA.

"You can’t do that!" Bradshaw cried.

"Oh no?" Test asked.

"No," Faarooq agreed as Angel started putting all her clothes back on. "You can’t forfeit once a round’s been played."

"I’ll do it for her then," Test shrugged, reaching for the front of his pants.

"No!" Bradshaw cried.

"You can’t do that either," Faarooq told her.

"No?" Test questioned. "Well, in that case," he shrugged, turning to Angel. "I suggest you run."

Angel didn’t have to be told twice. She was out of there.

"Dammit all!" Bradshaw cried, throwing his hands onto his head. "So darn close!"

"Next time, Test," Jackie started. "Leave your woman behind."

"No," Bradshaw protested. "Next time she should leave him behind."

"Amen to that, brother," Faarooq agreed, gathering the cards. "Another round?"

"I’m in," Bradshaw replied.

* * * *

Angel raced down the hallway, not stopping until she was sure the Acolytes weren’t on her tail.

She was grateful for what Test had done, even though she knew his motives were completely selfish. He wanted her and he didn’t want to share. That didn’t bother her. A jealous, overbearing boyfriend might be very useful if Angle didn’t show at the bar tonight.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Oh shit!" she cried, racing down the hall. She threw the door open and started talking breathlessly. "Commissioner Regal! Commissioner Regal!"

Regal looked up, alarmed. "Miss Torres, for heaven’s sake, calm down and tell me what’s the matter."

"Okay." Angel gulped in a big breath of air. "I need a match for Benoit."

Regal stared down his nose at her. "Where on earth have you been, child? Raw has started, the card is full and my hands are tied."

"The card’s full?" Angel blurted.

"Yes, I’m afraid so."

"No," Angel shook her head. "There must be some way. What’s on the card?"

Regal peered down at his papers. "Stephanie versus Trish, Kane versus Val Venis, the Radicalz versus Test and the APA."

"What about Angle?" Angel cut in. "What’s he doing?"

Regal broke into an evil smile. "Kurt Angle and myself will be meeting Chris Jericho in a handicap match. It seems the grubby little toe rag couldn’t find himself a tag partner. Say, Chris Benoit wouldn’t be interested, would he?"

Angel almost said yes, before remembering. "Are you kidding? Chris Jericho? His mortal enemy?"

"Yes, I suppose you’re right," Regal agreed. "That is a pity, as it’s really all I can offer you, I’m afraid."

Angel thought about it again, before shaking her head. "No, he’d kill me if I got him put on Jericho’s team."

"He most certainly would," Regal nodded. "Well, I’m sorry, you’ll just have to tell him there’s to be no match tonight."

Angel bowed her head in resignation. "Okay. Sorry for wasting your time."

"That’s quite alright," Regal consoled her. "I can tell you take your job very seriously, which is a refreshing change. May I make a suggestion?"

Angel nodded solemnly.

"Since I couldn’t help you tonight, why don’t I let you have first choice of matches for Smackdown? Whichever opponent you and Chris Benoit choose, you may have. Will this help you get your chin up?"

Angel broke into a small smile. "That’s very kind of you."

Regal nodded. "You don’t have to make a decision right away. Discuss it with Mr. Benoit and return to me on Thursday with your choice. What do you say?"

Angel’s smile increased into her trademark smirk. "I say, Stone Cold’s in trouble."

"That’s the spirit. I’ll chat with you again on Thursday."

"You bet," Angel nodded. "Thanks, and good luck tonight."

"Oh, we won’t be needing any luck," Regal mused as Angel started to leave. "Miss Torres? Alcohol is never the answer."

Angel paused in the doorway before continuing. Great. Another thing for Benoit to get shitty about. She probably absolutely reeked of beer and cigar smoke. Shaking her head gloomily, she returned to the locker room.

* * * *

As soon as she opened the door, Benoit was glaring at her. But it wasn’t the look of death from before; now it said just one thing. Where the hell have you been? He didn’t even have to say it.

Angel bit the bullet. "You don’t have a match."

"What?" Benoit screamed, finally breaking his silence.

"You heard me," Angel said evenly.

"No, actually, I don’t think I did. Because I think you said you didn’t get me a match. But if that’s the case, you’d know better than to be standing in front of me right now."

"What do you know," Angel said sourly. "I guess you did hear me."

Benoit reached out and grabbed her by the neck. "You have one chance to tell me you’re kidding and you got me a match with Angle."

Angel shook her head frantically, her hands flying to her throat. "No," she choked. "I’m not kidding."

Benoit twisted his grip and threw her across the locker room. She hit the ground with a thud.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I tried."

"You tried? You didn’t try damn hard enough!"

"I asked Regal, but he said the card was already full," Angel said, trying to keep her cool.

"Full? Full? I am Chris Benoit and the card is full? What the hell is the matter with Regal?"

Angel said nothing as Benoit stepped over and stood right in front of her, staring her down furiously. "Kurt Angle. I’ll bet Kurt Angle has a match. Doesn’t he?"

"Yeah, he does."

"Yeah, he does!" Benoit repeated. "Who has the pleasure of Kurt Angle’s company tonight?"

Angel swallowed. "He and Regal have Jericho in handicap."

"Jericho?" Benoit cried, disgusted. He straightened up and started pacing the room. "Jericho?" he snapped again, pausing to glare at Angel.

She just nodded.

"Grr!" Benoit screamed, punching the wall. "Let me get this straight! First…first he steals my intercontinental title, and now he steals my opponent? Jericho!"

Benoit stormed back over to Angel and lifted her to her feet.

"You better be telling me the truth, little girl. If I find out you were just too lazy to get me a damn match your life’s not even going to be worth living!"

"I said I was sorry!" Angel scowled. "Get out of my damn face already."

Benoit drew back, a strange expression on his face. "Have you been drinking?" The way he said it, he might as well have been asking if she’d been screwing sheep.

"I had a few beers with the Acolytes," Angel shrugged.

"What?" Benoit demanded. "You mean you didn’t get me a match because you were drinking?"

Angel stared at him indignantly. She now had to lie through her teeth just to save her ass. "I knew you’d be pissed when I couldn’t get you a match…"

"You’re damn right I’m pissed!" Benoit cut in.

"Can I continue?" Angel asked.

Benoit just scowled at her.

"So, when I left Regal, I didn’t want to have to come back here and put up with your shit so I went to visit my friends. We had a few beers but don’t worry. Since you don’t have a match it won’t affect my performance as valet."

"Why the hell didn’t you just come back?" Benoit demanded.

"Because I knew you would be like this. Can you blame me? Besides, whether or not I came straight back, you still wouldn’t have had a match so it doesn’t matter. So, just deal with it, Benoit. Deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Benoit screamed. "Sit your ass down!"

Angel frowned and sat on the bench. "We’re not leaving?"

"No. We are gonna watch every damn minute of Raw, you and me. And we are going to watch Jericho in his damn match against Angle, and then, when it’s over, I’m going to go see Regal personally and find out why the hell he couldn’t find room on his card for me. I mean, what is this?" he cried, signaling the TV. "A whipping match? What the hell is that?"

Angel just fixed her gaze on the TV. She may have enjoyed goading Benoit, but she also knew when to keep her mouth shut. And now was one of those times.

* * * *

Only a few minutes after Angel and Benoit started watching Stephanie, Trish and their whipping match, there was a run in.

"Jericho!" Benoit screamed, throwing a water bottle at the TV. Thankfully, it missed. "He’s everywhere! Jericho’s everywhere!"

Angel just shook her head at him. She already knew his obsession with Jericho bordered on the ridiculous and she’d had about enough of his ranting.

At that moment, the door flew open and Rhyno burst into the room. His eyes focused on Angel and he raced over, picked her up and put her over his shoulder.

"Angel, my sister," he panted. "I have a match. Come see my match."

Before she could respond he was carrying her to the door.

Benoit immediately jumped in the way. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

Rhyno gave him a single, crazed glance, reached out the arm that wasn’t holding Angel, and pushed Benoit to the floor.

"I have a match," he said again, stepping over Benoit and out the door. "She’s coming to my match."

The door slammed shut but Benoit leaped to his feet and threw it open. She stared furiously at Rhyno’s rapidly disappearing form.

"Little girl, get your ass back here!" he screamed. "Get back here!"

* * * *

"He has a woman, I wanted a woman too," Rhyno explained as they reached the backstage area.

"Who is it, Rhyno?" Angel asked.

"Holly, it’s Holly," Rhyno replied. "You’re in my corner okay, Angel?"

"Holly?" Angel frowned. "Wait a minute, Rhyno. I don’t know whether I want to…"

"You’re in my corner!" Rhyno insisted, giving her a little squeeze to show there was really no arguing.

"Okay," Angel said quickly.

Rhyno set her down at the bottom of the ramp and she quickly stepped up next to Molly.

"You came with that thing?" Molly asked, frowning.

Angel nodded solemnly. "I didn’t have much of a choice."

"So, you’re not his friend, then?"

"Yeah, I am. Well, not exactly. It’s kind of strange. He’s strange."

"It doesn’t matter," Molly grinned. "’Cause cousin Crash is going to beat him down!"

For a while it looked like 5’7", 220 pound Crash was going to do just that as he punched Rhyno, then brought him down with swinging head scissors. Crash holed him up in the corner, then sent him for an Irish whip, but Rhyno reversed it, tossed Crash into the corner and went for the gore. Luckily, Crash leaped out the way and went up top for the missile dropkick. He nailed it and celebrated but Rhyno leaped back up, yelled maniacally and hurtled his body into Crash’s. Yet another gore. Rhyno made the cover and just like that, it was over. It had taken only one minute.

"I don’t think so, mister!" Molly muttered, leaving Angel’s side. She was headed for the corner and started climbing to the top.

"Molly, that’s not a good idea," Angel warned her.

"Relax, Angel," Molly smiled. "I’ve got it covered. Nobody beats a Holly and gets away with it."

Angel just shook her head as Molly focused on Rhyno and took off. She performed a nifty little flip which brought Rhyno down so she was sitting on him, then jumped up again to check on Crash.

"Are you okay, cousin? I got him for you."

"RHYNO!" Paul Heyman’s voice cut across the arena like thunder.

Molly heard it and turned around and then – BAM – Rhyno slammed into her and crushed her into the ground, knocking her out cold.

Angel gripped the ropes anxiously. Not again. Last week Lita, this week Molly.

Rhyno raised his arms in victory, then leaped from the ring before looking over at Angel. "Angel, I’m finished. Let’s go."

Angel frowned at him. "Just…just a minute, okay?"

Rhyno looked confused. "A minute?"

"I mean, I’m glad you won, I just…I’ll catch you up later. I want to stay out here for a while."

Rhyno nodded rapidly. "Okay." He turned and started up the ramp as Angel climbed into the ring. She knelt down beside Molly’s fallen body.

"Oh, Moll," she said sadly, sweeping a strand of blonde hair from her friend’s face. "I told you not to do it."

She was pushed aside by EMTs as they loaded Molly onto a stretcher and carried her back into the trainer’s room. She’d come to by now and was sobbing quietly, too dazed, weak and sore to move. Crash and Angel solemnly continued the procession, saying nothing, keeping their eyes on Molly.

By the time they reached the trainer’s room, Molly was sitting up as the EMTs talked to her, shone lights in her eyes and ran various other tests.

Molly was absolutely miserable. "Crash?" she called out, looking around despite the people trying to work on her. "Where are you, cousin?"

Crash stepped up. "I’m right here, cousin."

Finally, Molly broke into a smile. "Can you get my things from the locker room? They want me to go to hospital, but I want you to come with me and I need my stuff."

Crash nodded worriedly. "Sure, Molly. Anything you want." He quickly ran off.

Molly still looked around the room, finally focusing on Angel. "Angel, what happened out there? Can y’all stop swattin’ at me?" she added, frowning at the EMTs. "I’m okay."

"You jumped on Rhyno, so he gored you," Angel explained as the EMTs started to worry about Molly’s memory loss.

"Oh," Molly replied with a nod that made her cringe from pain. "He didn’t know well enough to stay down, huh? He wants some more of me? Well, don’t you worry, mister. There’s always next time."

"Molly, what are you talking about? He knocked you out!"

"Yeah, he got lucky this time," Molly agreed. "But next time I can guarantee I’ll show that boy a thing or two."

"You’re not seriously thinking about challenging Rhyno?" Angel asked.

"Sure I am!" Molly cried. "I’m not afraid of him. I’m a Holly and Hollys ain’t afraid of anyone!"

"But it doesn’t mean you have to go looking for trouble. Rhyno’s more than twice your size."

Molly stared at her, puzzled. "No, he’s not."

"Yes, he is, Moll," Angel insisted.

"Uh uh." Molly shook her head. "We’re about the same. I know it. Howard Finkel and Lilian Garcia announce his weight different so he’s either two seventy or two eighty-five. So, either I’m only giving up ten pounds or he’s giving five to me. We’re evenly matched. It’s just whether or not he’s too yeller to take me on because Hollys do not back down from a fight!"

Angel stared at her sadly. She honestly believed what she was saying. "Molly, you’re not that big."

"I am too! Two hundred seventy-five pounds…"

"No, Molly," Angel shook her head. "You’re about one thirty, one forty at most."

"Angel, maybe that’s how much you weigh, and that’s fine, you don’t have to feel bad about that, but I’ve worked mighty hard to get this big and believe me when I tell you I’m almost three hundred pounds. You want me to prove it? Feel my arm! It’s like a rock – pure muscle."

"Molly, listen to me," Angel said gently. "You don’t weigh three hundred. You don’t even weigh two hundred. No women around here…"

"Me and Chyna both!" Molly cut in.

Angel nodded. "Well, Chyna maybe, but not you. Chyna’s six foot tall. You’re not."

"Sure I am," Molly insisted.

"Molly," Angel sighed, before turning to the EMTs. "Is she allowed to stand up?"

"If she wants," one of them replied. "But don’t push her too hard. She probably won’t remember any of this come tomorrow."

Angel nodded at him. He obviously thought that what Molly was saying was due to her concussion. But Angel knew better. Molly was her closest friend now and she really cared about her. Someone had to set her straight about this. Otherwise she’d just keep on getting hurt like she had tonight.

"Molly, stand up for a moment."

Molly bounced to her feet and looked up at Angel curiously.

"I’m five foot nine," Angel explained. "You’re shorter than me."

Molly shook her head. "You must be mistaken, Angel. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re well over six foot."

"I’m five foot nine," Angel repeated.

Molly’s face slowly fell. "Well," she shrugged. "It’s not about height anyway, is it? It’s about muscle and I’ve got plenty. Crash is also shorter than you and he’s way over four hundred pounds!" She said it with complete conviction.

"Crash is the light-heavyweight champion," Angel started.

"Uh uh," Molly protested. "Super-heavyweight."

"Light-heavyweight," Angel insisted. "He beat Dean Malenko. Have a look at what his belt says some time. Crash weighs about two twenty. If he weighed four hundred they wouldn’t even let him compete in the division."

Molly paused. "No, you’re wrong," she said quietly, but without the confidence of before.

"Crash is two twenty and you’re about one forty," Angel went on. "It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s just the way things are."

"No," Molly whispered as tears filled her eyes. "You’re wrong. You’re wrong."

"I’m not, Molly. And we both know it."

Molly let out a heart-wrenching moan. "No," she wailed as her tears overflowed. She began sobbing loudly, her whole body shaking.

Angel watched her sadly. Molly was hurting now, but she was tough. She’d get over it. It was definitely for the best.

Crash chose that moment to return. He took one look at his weeping cousin and raced to her side, discarding their gym bags on the floor.

"Molly! Cousin, what’s wrong? What happened?"

Molly was sobbing too much to talk. All she could manage to gasp out was, "Angel."

Crash turned on Angel furiously. "What did you say to her?"

Angel sighed. "I told her she weighs one forty and that you weigh two twenty," she replied coolly.

"You what? Why did you do that?"

"Because, if I didn’t, she’d keep picking fights and getting hurt, just like today."

"Hollys never back down from a fight," Crash informed her.

"I know. That’s what she said too."

Finally, Molly raised her head from Crash’s shoulder.

"It’s not true, is it, cousin?" she asked pleadingly.

"Oh Moll, of course it’s not true. We’re Hollys. We’re heavyweights and super-heavyweights. We can take anyone."

"I know, Crash. That’s what I was trying to tell her."

Crash glared over at Angel. "I think you should leave now. And don’t be talking to my cousin anymore. She don’t need your kind screwing with her head."

Angel frowned at him. "I was only trying to set her straight."

"You don’t know everything," Crash snapped. "So go, just go. Molly doesn’t need you anyway."

Angel raised her hands in surrender. "Forget this." Every time she tried to do the right thing, she got chewed out. She strolled down the hall, shaking her head furiously. Maybe doing the right thing was overrated. She opened the door to the locker room, scowl in place. It perfectly matched Benoit’s expression.

"Don’t start with me," she snapped. "I’m not in the mood."

"You don’t valet for other people," Benoit replied. "That was our deal."

"It was Rhyno. You were welcome to try and stop him."

"Just don’t do it again," Benoit warned.

Angel ignored him and sat on the bench with a thud.

"Where have you been anyway? That match ended at least twenty minutes ago."

"I was busy losing my best friend," Angel scowled. "I seem to be making a habit of it."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Rhyno’s your best friend?"

"No, Rhyno’s my brother," Angel replied, her voice dripping with either annoyance, sarcasm or both. "Molly was my best friend."

"Molly. What did you do, tell her she’s little?"

Angel said nothing.

"You did?" Benoit smirked. "You called a Holly small?"

"I told her she weighed one forty," Angel said quietly.

Benoit started chuckling. "Princess, are you insane? She’s a Holly!"

Angel glared at him. "You enjoy the fact that I keep losing all my friends, don’t you?" she asked evenly.

Benoit nodded, smirk still in place. "About as much as you enjoyed it when I lost mine."

Angel fumed. "You’re a jackass."

Benoit just laughed and turned to the TV. His smile quickly faded. "There you are. I’ve been waiting all night."

* * * *

"Oh! Jericho’s getting his ass kicked!" Angel cried.

Benoit didn’t take his eyes off the TV. "You think that’s funny."

"Yeah, I do, actually. And so should you."

"Don’t tell me what I think," Benoit muttered. "Kurt Angle is a whining, cheating piece of shit. I’ll bet he even cheated at the Olympics. And as for Regal? No place for me on the damn card when we have a whipping match and even Crash Holly gets ring time? What the hell is that?"

Suddenly he leaped to his feet and started for the door.

Angel watched him coolly. "You going to get soda? ‘Cause I want one."

"Shut your damn mouth!" Benoit snapped over his shoulder as the door slammed shut after him.

Angel stared at the closed door. He hadn’t made her go with him? That was a first. Maybe he was finally, finally getting tired of her. God knew she was trying hard to piss him off.

Suddenly, William Regal’s music filled the air and Angel turned back to the TV to find that he and Kurt were kicking Jericho. Regal’s comments about winning not being as important as destroying your opponent came into her mind and she broke into a grin. He was dead right. Chris Jericho could rot in hell…with a broken ankle, she amended as Kurt locked on his submission.

At that moment, Benoit leaped into the ring and first decked Regal before chasing Kurt. But Kurt was on the ball and escaped just in time. Benoit turned to punch an advancing Regal and chased him, too from the ring. Then he stood on the apron and shouted at Angle, but Angel wasn’t good enough at lip-reading to make it out.

"What the hell is this?" Angel cried aloud. "Benoit’s saving Jericho?"

It was clear that Jericho was equally puzzled as he stared warily at Benoit and climbed to his feet. The two blue-eyed Canadians stared at each other for a long time from opposite corners of the ring and no one seemed sure whether they’d come to blows. Eventually, after an intense eye contact session, Jericho dropped to the canvas and rolled from the ring. He then backed up the ramp, eyes still focused on Benoit, who watched him carefully. Then the TV cut to Shane McMahon’s visit to WWF New York and Angel was left to wait.

"I see you got a little workout after all," Angel mocked as soon as Benoit returned.

Benoit ignored her comment. "Come on," he said, reaching for his bag. "We’re leaving."

"I thought you wanted to talk to Regal."

"I already did," Benoit replied moodily. "Now, let’s go."

Angel grabbed her bag and followed him. "And I see you made a new little friend. That’s nice for you."

Benoit spun to glare at her. "Chris Jericho is not my friend."

"Are you sure? Because the two of you…"

"Look! Just because I have bigger enemies than Jericho right now does not make him my friend. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I always do when you shout."

Benoit simply turned his back on her. She was not going to get a rise out of him this time. He had much more important things to worry about. Like how to deal with Regal and Angle. And the fact that he’d helped Chris Jericho. That fact made him sick to his stomach. He’d had his reasons, of course, but did they really justify what he’d done? Coming to the aid of a man he hated with every ounce of his being. A man who’d humiliated him time after time with his pretty pictures and nursery rhymes. A man whose career, and indeed life, Benoit had tried to end over and over and over again. A man who, along with his very own manager, still so frustratingly hard to crack, was the only one even remotely close to proving Benoit wrong. Jericho!

"I should’ve let Kurt break his damn ankle," Benoit murmured as he continued on his way.

Jericho. The thought of being on his side made Benoit nauseous. And yet…Jericho had proved a worthy foe – could he be a useful ally? Anything was possible.

"Jericho. Impossible!" Benoit muttered, pushing the door open and heading towards the parking lot. "Impossible!"

* * * *

Angel looked around the bar, but Kurt was nowhere to be seen. She’d thought it would be hard to get past Benoit, but it wasn’t. He’d barely batted an eyelid when she’d slipped past him with the very lame excuse that she was going to get some air. He was just too deep in thought. What about, Angel didn’t know…or care. What mattered was that she was at the bar. But Kurt wasn’t and that was bad news. She was already dreaming up ways of working on Test when the barman approached her.

"Howdy, ma’am."

"Hi," she smiled. "I don’t want anything just yet. I’m waiting for someone."

"Are you Miss Torres?" the barman asked, saying her name with the cool inflection that could only come from a Texan.

Angel nodded curiously.

"Message for you, ma’am."

"Thank you," Angel frowned, taking the paper from him. She read it quickly and put it in her pocket, nodding to herself calmly. "Okay, Kurt. We’ll play your way this time. The end justifies the means."

She climbed down from her barstool and headed off.

* * * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Kurt opened the door and regarded her coldly. "Angel, so glad you could come."

"Kurt, just cut the crap and let me in," Angel replied. "I don’t have much time."

Kurt stepped back and let her enter the room. Angel stopped short. There, sitting comfortably in Kurt’s hotel room, were Edge and Christian. She hadn’t banked on this.

"Hey, Angel face," Edge greeted her, his grin more sinister than usual.

"Hi dudette," Christian nodded, also wearing a grin.

Angel switched her gaze between them and Kurt. "How do I know you aren’t going to kick the crap out of me?"

Kurt grinned evilly. "You don’t. Sit down," he continued, indicating the bed. "You want to talk, let’s talk."

Angel nodded and sat down. Their body language was creeping her out. Kurt didn’t even sit, while Edge and Christian looked barely restrained, as if ready to pounce.

"I want you to be my manager," Kurt said at last. "What is that going to take?"

Angel heaved a sigh of relief. "You’ll have to take on Benoit again. One on one."

"What?" Kurt frowned. "But I already beat him once."

Angel shrugged. "You’ll have to beat him again. You don’t think you can do it?"

"Of course I can do it!" Kurt cried. "I just…"

"You don’t want to?" Angel asked. "Okay, see you later. And I thought you’d want the chance to prove your dominance over him. Everyone says you cheated at Wrestlemania. That you pulled his tights."

"I did not cheat!" Kurt cried. "I beat him fair and square, one, two, three in the ring and that is true."

Angel shrugged. "Look, we both know that, but people have been talking and this way you can prove yourself. You can prove him wrong."

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "What kind of match are we talking?"

"Normal stipulation match. One fall. Winner gets me as his manager."

"But Benoit already has you. He’d really go for that?"

Angel smirked. "He has to. I’m his manager. I sign his matches."

Kurt mirrored her grin. "What do you guys think?" he asked his bodyguards.

"About Angel face?" Edge questioned. "We love her. And Rhyno does too."

"So I should have her as my manager?"

"Totally," Christian nodded.

"And just think, Kurt," Angel continued. "You could destroy Benoit. You could put ankle lock on him and snap his ankle and you’d get me too. You’d take away everything he has, and you’d destroy him!"

Kurt didn’t need any more convincing. "I’ll do it."

"Excellent!" Angel grinned. "I’ll set up the match. All you have to do is win it."

Kurt gave her an ironic frown. "Like that’s going to be a problem."