RHYNETTE IN HOLLY'S CLOTHING

SMACKDOWN, APRIL 5TH, 2001

"Hey gorgeous," called a voice.

Angel was sitting and silently eating her food as Benoit sat opposite, watching her like a hawk. There was no dumping vegetables under the table when he was around.

"Test," Benoit said coolly.

Test frowned and gave him the quickest glance. "I didn’t mean you. I meant this one." He stared down at Angel as she smiled back and moved her stuff a little.

"Take a seat," she offered.

"Thanks." Test set down his food and sat beside her. "How you been, Angel?" he asked, facing her and consequently turning his back on Benoit.

"Better now," she smiled back. "Hey, I wanted to thank you for what you did at the card game the other night. Saved my life."

"Yeah, but I ruined Bradshaw’s," Test grinned. "No problem. Like I said, I don’t want to share you around."

Angel nodded. "Well, it still meant a lot to me, even though they probably didn’t know I was down to my last layer."

"Oh, they knew," Test told her, reaching over to her plate. "Can I?"

"Sure," Angel nodded. "And what do you mean they knew?"

"She’s supposed to eat all that food," Benoit growled from across the table, but he was ignored.

"Bradshaw knew," Test continued. "That time when he made you lean right over the table to get a beer just so he could look down your top? I was ready to fight him then and there for that chance."

Angel gave him a winning smile. "You want to look down my top, Test?"

Test slightly averted his gaze. "I want to do more than that."

"Sometimes," Angel said softly, staring right into his eyes. "All you have to do is ask."

At that moment, Benoit got to his feet, scowling dangerously. "I have no time for children," he spat, before leaving.

"Finally, he’s gone," Test smiled. "He’s a real drag. And how much does he make you eat?"

"A small village, every meal," Angel deadpanned.

Test grinned. "Good sense of humor."

"Necessity," Angel nodded. "I mean, I’m Chris Benoit’s manager."

"Why?" Test asked suddenly.

"What?" Angel questioned.

"Why are you Benoit’s manager? You don’t even seem to like each other."

Angel shrugged. "It’s good money. And anyway, it’s not permanent. I might be getting out soon."

"You say it like it’s prison," Test frowned.

Angel nodded coolly. "If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck and waddles like a duck, chances are it’s a duck."

"But Benoit’s not a duck," Test told her.

"No," Angel grinned. "But he does rhyme with one."

Test grinned back. "He sure does. Anyway, it’s good to see you smiling. You don’t seem to smile much when Benoit’s around."

"You don’t smile much ever," Angel told him. "I’ve noticed, anyway. Just when you’re talking to me."

"We all need someone who makes us smile," Test said thoughtfully.

"Tortured souls," Angel agreed.

"Two of a kind," Test added.

"And a damn fine pair they are too!" Angel cried in her best Bradshaw voice.

Test chuckled quietly, giving her the once and then twice over.

"I want you," he said at last.

"I know," Angel replied quietly.

"So, what’s the problem then?" Test frowned.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, I mean what kind of a doggy leash does Benoit have on you? Not that leashes are so bad. With the right person, I might definitely be into that."

Angel frowned. "Oh, that’s romantic."

"You want romantic?" Test asked. "I can do romantic. Do you know how I first asked Stephanie out?"

Angel shook her head. Test? Romantic? This she had to hear.

"I was out in the ring with my buddies and I called her out there, in front of everyone, wearing my heart on my sleeve. And I held the microphone so everyone could hear what I was going to say."

"And what did you say?" Angel asked, suddenly riveted.

"I don’t remember exactly. It was two years ago and that time in my life I kind of tried to block out. But I think it was something like ‘Stephanie Marie McMahon. Please say you’ll make me a better man and agree to go out with me.’ And she said yes, and the crowd went wild."

Angel felt a little surge of excitement. "That is so sweet. What if she’d said no?"

Test shrugged. "I guess I would have had to get my buddies to beat the crap out of her. I mean, I was friends with the Big Show back then. Anyway, I told you I can do romantic."

Angel nodded, truly impressed. "I stand absolutely corrected."

Test smiled at her thoughtfully. "I’d do it different for you, though. I mean, I wouldn’t want to get predictable."

Angel stared deep into his eyes. "How…how would you do it for me?"

Test nodded to himself and stood up. "Well, you’d be at ringside like normal. I’d get tag with Benoit just to make sure. And we’d win the match because…well, of course we would. Then I’d go get a chair and put it in the ring. Then I’d grab you like this…" He held her tightly. "And the crowd would be like, ‘oh no! What’s going to happen? Is he gonna hit her?’ But then I’d open the chair and stand you on it like this and stare deep into your eyes and I’d say, ‘Little Angel, you know we’d be great together. I really need you in my life. Please, please say you’ll be mine’." Angel grinned down at him as he continued. "And then, of course you’d say yes, so I’d take you in my arms, spin you around off the chair and onto your feet. And then, of course, I’d kiss you." He lightly pressed his lips against her forehead. "How was that?"

Angel actually sighed with happiness as he held her in his arms. She was surprised at how good it felt with his strong arms around her, pressing her into his muscular body. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, savoring the moment.

"That’s great, Test," she whispered, tightening her arms around him and enjoying the gentle pressure of his hands on her back.

Finally, her eyes flickered open and immediately focused on a figure across the room. A figure who was staring, no, glaring back at her. A rock of pure guilt descended upon her stomach as they stared at each other.

‘And the part of my conscience will be played by Jeff Hardy,’ she thought, her face crumbling into a scowl.

Jeff simply shook his head at her in disgust, then walked away.

Test felt Angel stiffen in his arms and looked down, first at her, then in the direction she was looking, just in time to see Jeff Hardy stride angrily through the room.

"What was that about?" he asked, dropping his arms.

Angel looked up and followed his gaze. "Jeff…me and him…" She waved it away. "Forget it. It’s over."

"Oh," Test said knowingly. "Case of the ex."

Angel nodded. "Well, kind of. We never really did anything. I guess, he just always thought he had claims on me."

"Can’t blame him," Test smiled. "I mean, you’re hot."

"Thanks," Angel replied, trying to match his smile. It wasn’t easy. Jeff’s appearance had upset her and she couldn’t figure out quite why. Why should she give a damn what Jeff Hardy thought?

"Here, let’s sit down," she suggested. "Benoit gets real bitchy if I don’t eat all my food."

As if on cue, Benoit appeared with another plate and a stormy expression. He dumped the plate down in front of Angel.

"Excuse me?" she asked, staring up at him.

"If Test wants to share your food, you have to eat more," Benoit replied. "Finish them both."

"You’re kidding me."

"Have you ever known me to kid?" Benoit challenged.

Angel just let out an exasperated sigh and picked up her fork.

"Look, I’d better go," Test said reluctantly. Angel turned her face towards him and he reached out and gently caressed it. "I’ll see you later, okay?"

Angel nodded.

"Later, Benoit."

"Test," Benoit replied coolly and then Test was gone. Benoit sat down again and watched Angel eat.

"So, is he ready to fight for you yet?"

Angel’s eyes darted up before she realized he was just calling her bluff. "Not yet," she replied, after swallowing. "But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get there."

"I’m sure you will," Benoit nodded. "What will be interesting is seeing just how far you’re prepared to go."

Angel shrugged indifferently. "I like him."

"Princess, you don’t give a crap about him."

"Sure I do. He’s sexy, he’s sweet. I’d do him."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "And I thought you only flirt to get what you want."

Angel smirked. "Trust me. I have a feeling I’d enjoy it just as much as he would."

Benoit shook his head. "He’s far too stupid for you."

"Stupid?" Angel questioned.

"He makes Kurt Angle look like the president of Mensa."

"Okay, that was mean," Angel frowned. "And besides, what the hell have brains got to do with it? He’s big and pretty and has a great body. That’s all you need."

Benoit slowly shook his head. "I never thought it’d come to this."

Angel held his gaze. "You said so yourself. It’s screw or get screwed."

"You’re going to screw him because you want out of our deal?" Benoit asked finally.

"No, I’m going to screw him for a lot of reasons."

"But the biggest one is me," Benoit insisted.

Angel broke into a smug smile. "Don’t worry, Benoit. When I sleep with Jeff, you’ll be the first to know."

"Test," Benoit corrected automatically.

"Exactly. Test," Angel nodded, not realizing her mistake.

Now Benoit was the one who was smirking. "You said Jeff."

Angel frowned. "No I didn’t."

"Sure you did."

"No I didn’t. Why would I say Jeff when I meant Test?"

"Why don’t you tell me?"

Angel glared at him. "I’m not playing this game with you, Benoit. We both know what I said."

"Yes, princess. I think we do," Benoit smirked.

Angel scowled at him. "Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to go see Regal now if I’m going to get you Angle."

"Or Regal," Benoit nodded.

Angel raised her eyebrows. "Okay. I’ll go now."

"Sit down and finish your food," Benoit ordered.

"Get me a doggy bag," Angel called without stopping. "I’ll eat it later. If you want your match I have to go now."

Faced with that choice, Benoit let her leave. What an interesting turn of events. The girl still wanted the younger Hardy Boy, but she was willing to whore herself to Test in order to end the deal. That sealed it. She was just another broad. Just another whore. So why the hell was she still unafraid of him?

* * * *

"Commissioner Regal, I’ve come to collect on our deal."

Regal frowned at her. "After what your client did on Raw? Besmirching me for no clear reason that I could see."

"He was mad because he didn’t have a match," Angel explained.

"That’s still no reason for that unprovoked attack."

"You’re absolutely right," Angel grinned.

"I am?"

"You are. That’s why, instead of giving Benoit a title shot, I was wondering if I could use it instead."

"You want a title shot?" Regal asked incredulously.

"No, but I do want a match."

"I’m sorry, Angel, but you are not on the current WWF roster and legalities prevent me from doing that."

"Oh, it’s not for me."

Regal gave her a confused frown. "Perhaps you should tell me what it is you want."

Angel paused and then spoke. "A rematch. Chris Benoit versus Kurt Angle. One fall. But this one’s different. This one has a stipulation."

"And that is?"

"The winner gets me as his manager."

Regal looked shocked. "You’re unhappy with your job?"

"My job is managing Chris Benoit. What do you think?"

Regal nodded. "Well, it certainly gives their feud a new edge. When would you like this match? Tonight?"

"Tonight I have a responsibility to get Benoit what he wants. He wants you or Angle."

"Oh he does, does he?"

Angel nodded coolly. "But I was thinking. If I’m not going to be his manager for much longer I really should do my very best to get him exactly what he wants. You and Angle."

"Tag?" Regal questioned.

"No," Angel smirked, shaking her head. "Handicap."

Regal slowly broke into a grin. "That would teach the grubby little toe rag to besmirch me."

"Wouldn’t it just?" Angel gloated. "And then, on Sunday Night Heat, we would have my match."

"But after meeting myself and Kurt Angle tonight, Benoit would be in no condition to compete on Sunday."

Angel nodded smugly. "Wouldn’t that be unfortunate?"

"Miss Torres, I must say that this is a side I’ve never before seen from you. It’s character such as this that can get you very, very far in this business."

Angel grinned. "Do I get my match?"

"That depends, my dear. Has Kurt Angle agreed to this?"

"You can ask him if you like."

"Well then," Regal said thoughtfully. "I see no reason why I can’t sign both of those matches."

Angel nearly applauded. "Fantastic! Thank you so much!"

Regal smiled back. "Not at all, my dear girl. In fact, may I make a suggestion regarding your match?"

"Of course."

Regal nodded. "Do you not think that, considering that you are impartial and the result of this match greatly affects your life, it would not be proper for you to officiate?"

"I’m sorry?" Angel frowned.

Regal reached under his desk and pulled out a black and white striped polo shirt. "I think it would be right for you to be a referee in your match."

"Really?" Angel asked, gingerly reaching for the shirt.

"Of course. The outcome of this match will, in effect, be entirely in your hands. I can trust you to be fair and make the right decision, correct?"

Angel matched his sinister smile. "Oh, you can, sir. You most definitely can."

* * * *

Angel was on cloud nine when she met Benoit in the locker room.

"Guess what?" she asked, smiling sweetly at Benoit.

"What?" Benoit frowned.

"I got you exactly what you wanted."

"Angle or Regal?" Benoit demanded.

"Both," Angel smirked.

Benoit nodded, impressed. "Tag team, eh? Who’s my partner? Test again?" He frowned at the thought.

"No, no partner," Angel grinned. "It’s handicap."

"What?" Benoit cried.

"You versus Angle and Regal," Angel explained coolly.

Benoit glared at her. "Why did you do that?"

Angel widened her eyes innocently. "You told me you wanted them."

"I meant one on one," Benoit fumed.

"Really?" She cringed. "Oops." A beat. "Well, I kind of got you what you want. You have a rematch with Kurt Angle on Heat."

"I do?" Benoit frowned. "If I survive tonight, what a nice reward! Thank you so much."

Angel grinned at his sarcasm. Boy, was she enjoying this. "There’s more."

Benoit blinked heavily. "You’ve already booked me against the Big Show for Raw."

"No, but about that. I most likely won’t book you at all for Raw."

"What do you mean?"

"That match with Angle? It’s a stipulation match," Angel smirked, her eyes locked on his. "The winner gets me."

Realization hit Benoit like a sledgehammer to the skull. "You bitch."

Angel thought her grin couldn’t get any wider, but one look at Benoit’s face changed that. "You better look after yourself tonight. I hear those handicap matches can be brutal and I’ll want you at your best on Sunday."

"You bitch," Benoit spat again.

Angel happily walked through the room and took a seat on the bench.

Benoit watched her and finally spotted the referee’s shirt. "What’s that? I have a handicap match and I have to ref one?"

"No, it’s not yours," Angel shrugged.

Benoit stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded. "No."

Angel’s smile faded as she stared at him intently. "You know, Benoit. Ever since I arrived here people have been giving me clothes. I have an Attitude tank top, a Stone Cold Steve Austin shirt, a Hardy Boyz crop top, a Radicalz sweatshirt, a Chris Benoit tube top, a Wrestlemania jersey, an Edge and Christian basketball jersey and a Kurt Angle tank top. Jeff bought me practically an entire wardrobe. But I think that this," she grinned, holding up the ref’s top. "Is my nicest shirt yet. What do you think?"

"You don’t know the first thing about refereeing a match," Benoit scowled.

"Well, Commissioner Regal sure thinks I do."

Benoit just shook his head furiously.

"Relax, Benoit. You’ve taught me all about wrestling. You know I’ll be fair."

Benoit just kept shaking his head. "You bitch."

Angel grinned at him. "You know what, Benoit? I think tonight’s going to be one great night!"

* * * *

Angel strutted in front of the mirror, wearing her ref’s shirt over her tube top.

"Not bad," she commented, gathering it at the back. "And if I tie it back here it’ll even show my midriff. Perfect."

Benoit glowered at her. "You’re pretty damn proud of yourself, aren’t you?"

Angel stopped what she was doing to give him a charming smile. "Yep."

"Well, you know what?" Benoit muttered.

Angel threw her hands on her hips, still smiling. "What, Benoit?"

"I’m not going to lose."

Angel nodded with mock sympathy. "You just keep telling yourself that, buddy. Whatever gets you through." She pulled off her shirt and folded it neatly.

At that moment, Rhyno again burst into the room, his eyes wild. He danced from foot to foot as he spotted Angel and held out his hands, beckoning her.

Angel’s eyes widened. That was what he did just as he was about to gore someone.

"Rhyno…"

Bam! Rhyno’s shoulder slammed into Angel and she doubled over onto his back.

Rhyno spun to give Benoit a quick glance, mutter, "I’m taking her," and then he was gone.

Benoit just stood in the same position, staring expressionlessly into space.

"Have her," he said quietly. "Have the traitorous little whore! See if I care!" By now he was shouting at the top of his lungs as he flew into a rage, completely trashing the locker room. He stopped abruptly after kicking a chair into the wall. "LITTLE WHORE!"

* * * *

"Okay, that hurt," Angel commented as Rhyno carried her down the hallway.

"Sorry," Rhyno replied disjointedly. "Edge said I shouldn’t mess with your…that guy in there."

"He’s no better than you are, Rhy. So, who’s your opponent tonight?"

"K-Kwik is. K-Kwik."

"Really? Huh, I used to live next door to him for awhile."

"Yeah," Rhyno replied as they approached the stage. "K-Kwik."

"I like your music," Angel commented. "It’s very you."

"I didn’t write it," Rhyno replied.

"I know, but I still like it."

"Some other guy wrote it."

"That’s okay, Rhyno. I know."

Rhyno again released Angel at the bottom of the ramp and she took her place in his corner, staring up at his opponent expressionlessly. K-Kwik had indeed been her next door hotel buddy, in that week or so between sharing with Lita and sharing with Benoit. He’d always been nice to her but, as someone had once told her, nice had no place in wrestling. She couldn’t remember just who it was, but they were right. Angel was through with being nice. This business was all about power and she planned on aligning herself with those who wielded most of it. Once Kurt Angle won her, she’d only associate with three people – well, four if she had to endure Kurt as a necessary evil. Edge, Christian and Rhyno. The tag champions and the destructive monster. They were her future. It was all too clear.

Now, looking up, she finally saw K-Kwik for what he was. K-Kwik might be a sassy dancer with some awesome moves, but underneath it all, he was simply a lousy rapper and a very average fighter. And now, Rhyno was destroying him.

Angel leaned over the apron, watching the action intently.

"Come on, Rhy. Kick his ass. Yes!" she screamed as Rhyno gored K-Kwik in the corner, then went for a leg drop over the bottom rope.

"Yeah Rhyno!" Angel cried, jumping around excitedly as Rhyno threw his hands into the air and shouted, "Who’s the man?"

"You are!" replied Angel and a surprising number of spectators.

Angel raised her eyebrows, murmuring, "Maybe Oklahomans do have taste."

K-Kwik came back with a nice dropkick and swinging head scissors.

Angel nodded to herself. "Come on, Rhy! If you keep getting up he’ll never stop you!"

K-Kwik performed a series of backflips, then holed Rhyno up in the corner.

"Go, Rhyno! He’s not hurting you! He’s nothing!"

K-Kwik went for the Irish whip, but Rhyno reversed it, sending K-Kwik towards the corner. But K-Kwik put his hands on the turnbuckle and leaped over Rhyno just as he was about to be gored. K-Kwik continued his momentum with a couple of snazzy backflips. The crowd loved it, but during all his showboating, K-Kwik had forgotten one thing. Rhyno.

Bam! A gore, a cover and one…two…three. Another one bit the dust.

Angel cheered wildly as the ref stepped up to Rhyno and tried to raise his hand in victory.

Rhyno shrugged him off. "Don’t touch me!" he snapped, fists in the air. He stared down at Angel, eyes wide and psychotic. "Angel!" he cried, jumping down next to her. "Angel!"

Angel glanced at him warily. He still scared the crap out of her but every day she trusted him more and more.

"Congratulations, brother," she said with a little smile.

Rhyno nodded at her rapidly, then threw his arms around her. "I did it, Angel. I did it!" he cried, maneuvering them up the ramp.

Angel smiled and hugged him back. "You sure did!"

Suddenly she was tossed aside and sat bewildered on the ramp as someone attacked Rhyno, forced him to the ring and threw him inside.

"Crash freaking Holly," Angel muttered, picking herself up. "They’re all out of their minds."

Crash punched Rhyno and then went for some momentum off the ropes, but Rhyno simply set himself, waited and gored him again.

Holding his head, Rhyno spun around the ring, picking up Crash’s baseball cap, which had fallen off in the fight. He nodded rapidly to himself and climbed back down next to Angel.

"He attacked me! He attacked me!"

"I know," Angel nodded. "He got just what he deserved."

Rhyno grinned at her maniacally. "Here, Angel. A hat."

Angel smiled as he put it on her head, backwards, just like Crash wore it. "Thanks, Rhyno."

"He wanted you to have it," Rhyno announced. "Holly did. He told me."

"Yeah," Angel smirked, looking at the ring. "I think he did."

"Come on," Rhyno suggested. "Let’s go."

So, with both of them worrying about Rhyno’s sore head and each with an arm around the other, they walked together up the ramp.

* * * *

Rhyno was still holding his head as he emerged through the curtain.

"Rhyno! Rhynette! Major destructo, dudes."

Angel smiled at Edge as Christian went on. "Yeah. Dude, that was gore-geous."

"And what’s this?" Edge grinned, tapping the baseball cap. "An Angel in Holly’s clothing!"

Angel smirked smugly. "Is it me, or what?"

"Totally," Christian agreed.

Suddenly, something caught Angel’s eye. Chris Benoit was headed towards the ring, flexing his muscles as he walked.

Angel left Edge and Christian to talk to Rhyno and fell into step beside her boss.

"Am I not your valet?"

"You were with your friends. I didn’t think you’d want to come."

"And miss this awesome display of your endurance against two high profile opponents? Not on your life, pal."

Benoit shook his head and they stepped out towards the stage.

"Dada dada da dada dadada," Angel sang quietly. "Oh ‘Shooter’. I’m going to miss this song."

Benoit took a deep breath. He was not going to let her piss him off. He had bigger things to worry about.

Angel cocked her head as they reached the stage. What was that she heard? Cheers? For Benoit?

‘Are these Oklahomans out of their minds?’ she wondered. ‘I mean, it’s Benoit! What’s wrong with these people?’

As Benoit climbed into the ring, Angel walked around to Regal and Angle’s corner.

"Hey guys."

"Hello," Regal smiled and waved as Angle nodded down at her.

"You have my full permission to kick Benoit’s ass."

Regal and Angle stared at each other, then back at Angel. "Thank you."

They looked back at Benoit and surrounded him as he sized them up, plotting his first move. He went for Angle and punched him into the corner, only to be attacked from behind by Regal. They continued the double team and Angle set up for a German suplex, only to have Benoit’s boot slam into his groin.

"Hey!" Angel cried in surprise. "That’s how I break those holds!"

Benoit ran to Regal and locked on the crossface, but Angle found his feet and kicked him away.

Bam! Benoit nailed a German on Angle, but immediately dropped the hold and looked for Regal.

Bam! German on Regal and Benoit ran to Angle again.

Bam! German on Angle.

Bam! German on Regal.

Bam! A third on Angle.

Bam! A third on Regal.

Six consecutive Germans. The crowd was going insane and Benoit looked around at them, completely bewildered.

"Don’t cheer him," Angel scowled. "You’ll only encourage the prick."

Benoit stared furiously at his opponents and dumped Angle from the ring. Now Regal was isolated.

Crash! Knife-edge chop across the chest. Regal tried to battle back but Benoit pulled the reversal into the suplex and locked on the crossface.

Suddenly, Angle flew through the ring, forcing him to break the hold.

"Yeah, Angle!" Angel cried, tapping loudly on the apron.

But Benoit simply spun around and locked the crossface on Angle instead.

"Don’t tap, Kurt!" Angel pleaded as she ran around the corner, ready to put Kurt’s foot on the rope. But before she even got there, Regal kicked Benoit and Angle was free. He and Regal again began the double team, viciously attacking Benoit as the crowd started chanting, "Angle sucks! Angle sucks!"

"Angle doesn’t suck," Angel scowled. "He’s going to save my ass. That’s it, Kurt! Kick him! Punch him! Kill him!"

Suddenly, Benoit dug deep for a huge German on Regal, but he turned around right into a belly to belly throw from Angle.

"Yes!" Angel cried, applauding loudly as Kurt got to his feet and shouted, "Whoo!"

Regal took his opportunity to put Benoit in the Regal Stretch. Kurt turned around with a sadistic grin on his face and immediately locked on the ankle lock.

Angel nodded smugly. "Hang in there, Benoit!" she cried, knowing that every second was injuring him more and more. "Don’t tap! You can do it!"

Benoit screamed, slowly raised his left hand, and tapped.

Angel was surprised. "Don’t let go, guys!" she advised. "Punish him!"

Regal released his hold and started waving at the crowd but Angle still held on, and on, and on.

"That’s it, Kurt! Break his damn ankle! Make him squeal!"

Regal stepped over to tell Angel to release, but still he didn’t. Struggling, Regal stepped out the way again.

"Break him, Kurt, break him!" Angel shouted.

"I own you now, and I’ll own you again. Whenever you step in the ring with me I will own you!" Kurt cried, still in the hold. "You can never beat me!"

Benoit couldn’t hear anything over his own screams and the pain that was swallowing him. He still tapped, but Kurt didn’t care.

More refs entered the ring, but still Kurt held on. Not even five refs could get him to let go.

"Yeah, Kurt! Snap it!" Angel encouraged.

Suddenly, a huge roar rang out and Chris Jericho sprinted down the ramp.

Angel watched him with wild eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she muttered. "You’ll ruin everything!"

Jericho dove into the ring. He kicked Angle and chased him away, then chased the refs until they, too, left. He was in a foul mood, jumping all around the ring, hanging off the ropes, even glaring down at Angel, who stared back up at him with a fearless scowl. She made no move to escape, unlike everyone else.

Regal and Angle backed up the ramp with indignant expressions.

"This isn’t over, Jericho!" Kurt shouted. "I’ll see you later!"

Jericho snarled back at him, then turned to find that Benoit was staring at him.

Benoit was surprised and confused and Jericho was giving nothing away. His face said just one thing. You saved my ass, I saved yours. Done.

Then, as quickly as he’d arrived, Jericho headed back up the ramp.

Angel climbed into the ring next to Benoit. "How’s the ankle?" she asked smoothly.

"Shut up," Benoit panted, trying to find his feet.

"And that was sure nice of Jericho to show up, wasn’t it? You’d be in trouble if he hadn’t."

"Shut up."

"Is he your new best friend, Benoit? Because that is so sweet!"

"Shut up!" Benoit fumed, finally making it from the ring.

Angel jumped down next to him. "Gee, Benoit. I sure am going to miss you. Especially your extensive vocabulary."

Benoit just kept on walking. Let her gloat. She’d see things differently when he destroyed Kurt Angle. Bruised ankle? Hell, a broken ankle wouldn’t stop him. Kurt Angle was a dead man. And she would be there to see it all, to count the one…two…three next to Kurt’s broken body. And then, up close, listening to Kurt scream in absolute agony, she would finally see what he, Chris Benoit, was capable of. If he could beat Kurt Angle, six foot tall, almost two forty pounds within an inch of his life, what could he do to her? She was a sharp girl, she’d get it through her head. This was just the catalyst he needed to crack her. She would fear him, just like everyone else. She thought she was pretty damn smart tonight, what with her ‘match-making’ skills and wheedling her way into a ref’s shirt, but Benoit was about to prove her wrong. Revenge always left the sweetest taste.