TAKING THE TEST

SMACKDOWN, APRIL 19TH, 2001

Angel left William Regal’s office with a smile on her face. The fact that she and the commissioner were on the same page was undisputed, but it continually amazed her what they could come up with when they put their minds together. She had a match for Jericho and Benoit. They were going to hate it, but Angel’s job was all but safe. At first she’d told Regal she didn’t think it was going to fly, but then he’d explained it to her and he was right. It was perfect.

"Test!" she cried, spotting him headed towards her. She ran at him and leaped happily into his arms. They kissed briefly, then Test stood her on her feet.

"You never came back Monday night. I thought we were gonna hang out."

"I’m sorry," Angel replied, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling his chest. "I had some stuff to take care of." Test’s hands paused on her back and he frowned down at her. "Is everything okay?"

Angel nodded. "I think it worked out."

"Good," Test replied, giving her a small smile. "You know, you missed the end of the match. Jeff lost his title."

"I know," Angel replied quietly, while thinking ‘but Lita didn’t get hurt and that’s all I care about’.

As if hearing her thoughts, Test went on. "But as much as it sucks, it’s probably a good thing. Maybe Austin and Hunter’ll leave them alone now. They don’t deserve that. No one does."

Angel nodded again and surmised that Test was in one of his dark moods. That had to change. She started moving her hand and pressed her body closer against his. "Sounds like you were really into that match."

Test shrugged. "Well, I had nothing better to do."

"Aw," Angel pouted, staring up at him at last. "Did you miss me?"

Test gave her a little smile. "Sure I missed you."

"That’s so sweet," Angel grinned. "Well, don’t worry. I fully intend making it up to you."

"You do?"

"Oh yeah," Angel replied, burying one hand in his hair and looping the other arm around his neck. "I do." She kissed him furiously and he responded immediately, pushing her back gently against the wall and moving his arms and hands to support her so their faces were almost level.

‘It must suck having to bend down so far every time you wanna kiss someone,’ Angel thought as she gripped him tighter and deepened the kiss. ‘And I’m actually kinda tall.’

He was so big she felt tiny in his arms, almost like a doll. But she was the one in control. She was the one calling the shots. She felt him getting more and more turned on as their kisses became deeper, more intense, and their hands grabbed each other more tightly and their bodies got hotter, way hotter, almost on fire, and their breathing became shallower.

"Hello, Andrew."

Test immediately broke away and turned to glare at the brunette woman and the man in the leather hat.

"Stephanie," he spat acidly. "Hunter."

"Test," Triple H nodded. "Hey, cute girl. She’s Benoit’s right?"

Test glowered at him, his arm tightening around Angel. "Does she look like she’s Benoit’s?"

"Well, yeah," Triple H grinned. "Unless she’s got a twin or a clone or something."

"Well, she’s not Benoit’s," Test snapped. "She’s mine, okay?"

Triple H raised his hands as if to say ‘no arguments here’.

"Poor, sweet little Andrew," Stephanie said sarcastically. "You never did quite get that part, did you? You can’t own a woman. Isn’t that right, Hunter?"

"Yes, dear," Triple H replied, giving Test a look that said, ‘I agree with her and then I get laid. Watch and learn’.

"No," Test replied. "Just dogs. Right, Steph?"

Stephanie’s mouth dropped open and she threw her hands onto her hips. Then, miraculously, she regained her composure and her superior smirk

"Well, I think it’s nice you have a new little girlfriend. Look at her, Hunter. Cute little pleather pants, pretty little tank top. Why, she just has ‘jailbait’ written all over her, doesn’t she?"

Triple H started chuckling, but Stephanie elbowed him in the ribs.

"You’re just jealous that you’re no longer young and hot and wrinkle-free," Test scowled.

Stephanie ignored him and kept examining Angel with her calculated gaze. Angel said nothing. She was studying Stephanie, working her out, picking her spot.

"And I’m sure she’s got a pretty face somewhere under all that makeup," Stephanie went on. "Oh my God! Is that foundation Maybelline? Hey Hunter. Isn’t she cute? She’s trying to be like that girl from ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’."

"What, the lesbian?" Triple H frowned.

"No," Stephanie scowled. "You know, that other one. The little blonde thing."

"Trish Stratus?"

Stephanie spun to him incredulously. "Trish! She’s not on Buffy. And why did you even mention her name, anyway? You know you don’t say the name of that…that…skank around me."

"Yes, dear," Triple H said patiently, leading her away.

"Don’t you ‘yes dear’ me. Why does it always have to be about Trish? Don’t you know she slapped Daddy? Slapped him! And at Wrestlemania!" She kept on going until they were out of earshot.

Test chuckled as he watched Triple H trying to calm his wife.

"You know, sometimes I feel sorry for him. I mean, that could have been me. But then I remember who he is and I stop feeling sorry and start laughing instead." He took her hand and they started down the hall.

Angel smiled at him. "Why’d she call you Andrew?"

"’Cause that’s my name. You didn’t think it was really Test, did you?"

"No, but if Test’s the name you want to be called, it’s your identity and people should call you that. Otherwise it’s like they’re stealing your identity."

Test shrugged. "She only does it to piss me off."

"Well, she shouldn’t do it. It’s like she thinks she has control over you, even though you’re not together."

Test shrugged again. "Whatever. I don’t wanna talk about Steph. She’s a bitch. Let’s talk about you. Do you have any cool nicknames?"

"Angel is my nickname."

Test stopped. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Angel grinned, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You didn’t think it was my real name, did you?"

"Yes!" Test cried, smiling down at her with surprise and interest. "So, what’s your real name?"

"Alicia."

Test nodded thoughtfully. "Sweet. Alicia Torres. That’s very…Spanish."

"Yeah, I know. Go figure."

Test grinned. "So, why Angel?"

"Because people can’t talk properly."

"What?" Test cried.

"It’s the truth," Angel told him. "They call me Aleesha."

"That’s a problem?"

Angel nodded. "My name is Alicia. Ah-leet-see-ah. You’re not seeing the problem with that?"

"No," Test admitted.

"Okay, so my family is real close, right? We’re talking siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, etc, etc. When I was growing up I always hung out with my cousins. They were like my best friends, even though most of them were so much older than me. And we’re mostly boys. Pretty much me and Lita were the only girls. And I loved her. I worshipped her, followed her around everywhere. So, no matter who was calling one of us, whether they were Hispanic or white, it was always ‘Leesha and Lita’ or ‘Leet-see-ya and Lita.’ You see how that could be confusing? So, because I was little and just so darn cute, everyone started calling me Angel instead and it just stuck. So, don’t call me Alicia, okay? It’s not my name and I won’t answer to it."

Test nodded, intrigued. "So, Lita was more like your older sister than your cousin?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Angel agreed.

"Cool," Test smiled. "I’ve got an older sister."

"Really? I’ve got two older brothers. Mateo y Ricardo. Matt and Ricky," she explained to his confused face.

"Right," Test nodded. "Spanish."

Angel grinned at him as they finally reached the locker room. "You got it."

"So, I’ll see you later, then?" Test asked, drawing her into his arms.

"You bet," Angel smiled back. "Bye, Andrew."

"Bye, Alicia," Test, replied, kissing her gently.

Angel felt his hands on her ass, but close to her, like they were in her pockets or something.

Then he pulled away.

"Later, Angel," he finished, heading off.

"Bye, Test." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a hotel matchbook. She opened it to find that a room number was printed inside.

‘Clever work,’ she thought, reaching out to open the door. ‘I’ll have to reward you for that.’

* * * *

"Okay boys, you’ll be happy to know that I’m back and, after a very rigorous negotiating session with Regal, I did make a match for you."

Benoit and Jericho stared at her expectantly.

"Oh, Benoit. Nice to see you decided to leave the purple tights in the closet before you came out of it today."

Benoit glared as she smirked back at him. "Who are our opponents?"

"The Dudley Boyz."

"What?" Benoit screamed. "Get your ass back there and fix it."

Angel simply folded her arms. "Not a chance."

"Excuse me!" Benoit yelled. "Did you just say not to me? You are gone, bitch, gone!"

Angel still held her ground. Steady, Freddy. Relax. I had to use all my bargaining power to get you what you want for Backlash, so I had to take what I could get tonight. I thought you guys would rather tag than singles so I did the best I could. If that’s not good enough, you can go screw yourselves…or each other. Whatever."

Benoit gave her a strange look. "You got us matches for Backlash?" Angel nodded. "Both of us?"

"Yeah."

"Already?"

"Well, you have to work pretty quick round here."

Benoit frowned. "So, who are our opponents?"

Angel grinned. "Can’t tell you. I’ve been sworn to secrecy."

"Princess, I swear to God…" Benoit fumed.

"It’s the truth. Something about letting the fans see your first reactions. But don’t worry. I got you both exactly what you want."

Benoit and Jericho turned to look at each other.

"Okay, Dudley Boyz," Jericho started. "No sweat. We’re better than those guys. We can beat Buh Buh with speed and D-Von with skill. And now we have matches for Backlash, we can treat this as a warm up."

Benoit nodded slowly, still only semi-convinced. Jericho went on with his strategy as Benoit nodded from time to time and occasionally gave his own input.

"Oh, Siegfried? Roy?" Angel called as soon as they were ignoring her. They looked up warily. "I thought you’d like to know. It’s a table match."

Benoit was livid but Jericho just smirked. "Siegfried and Roy, eh? What’s that make you? The white tiger?"

Angel grinned back. "Something like that." She felt Benoit’s eyes on her and turned to face him. "What?" Benoit simply glared. "You’ll like your matches, I swear. You especially." Benoit said nothing. "I can’t tell you, you know. Sworn to secrecy, like I said."

Benoit’s eyes tore through her and still he remained silent.

"Okay, fine," Angel sighed. "I’ll give you a clue." She made a sound like a whip cracking.

"Aw," Jericho commented. "I wanted the bondage match."

Benoit glowered at Angel and shook his head slowly.

"Okay, I’ll change tonight’s match," she conceded. "But then I’m gonna have to scrap Backlash as well, and I can’t guarantee I’ll still get you what you want."

Benoit gave her one last scowl, then turned abruptly to Jericho. "I’ll tell you something straight out. I hate table matches."

Jericho stared at him incredulously. "You think I like them? They’re a necessary evil. Like commissioners…and managers. It doesn’t mean we’re not going to win, though."

Benoit nodded solemnly and they started talking strategy again.

Angel dropped to the ground for some pushups, fully aware she was being ignored. It was becoming all too common lately.

* * * *

Minutes ticked past. Angel was still doing her exercises; Benoit and Jericho were still discussing table matches of days gone by and they were both still ignoring her.

"You know," she said slowly, bouncing to her feet. "Hanging around with you guys could give a girl an inferiority complex."

Still they ignored her, even as she paced out the room and circled them twice.

"You know what this room needs? Other than fewer gay men? A punching bag." She accented her point by viciously giving the air a right hook. "Don’t you think that’s a good idea?"

The only response she got was, "Yeah, true. But that was a Dumpster match too. It doesn’t really help us."

Angel sighed. "Hands up who else thinks we need a punching bag?" She paused. "Okay, hands up who thinks we don’t? Hmm, a tie. I guess there’s only one way to settle it. Everyone who thinks we need a punching bag in here, ignore Angel now." She waited a few seconds, then broke into a smile. "Sweet," she said, unknowingly using Test’s favorite word. "We’re getting a punching bag."

Suddenly, the door flew open and there stood Rhyno. He looked frantically around the room, before spotting Angel.

"Title match! I have a title match! You’re coming too!"

He let out a little cry and ran towards her, but was stopped with a massive chair shot from Benoit. He spun furiously, reaching for his head, only to meet with a Jericho dropkick, which pushed him right back through the doorway again.

"Out you go, jackass!" Jericho called, slamming the door and leaning against it.

Rhyno tried to force his was back in, but Jericho, and the door, were up to the task.

Angel turned angrily to Benoit, her face similar to Regal’s besmirched look. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Benoit stared at her coolly. "Princess, if you don’t know, I’m not telling you."

"I thought I could valet for whoever I wanted."

"And I thought you knew the difference between a friend and an enemy. I guess we were both wrong."

Angel glowered at him. "I do. Rhyno’s my friend; you’re my enemy. I’m going to his match. Outta the way, Liberace," she spat at Jericho.

"Turn around!" Benoit screamed. She turned back slowly, still scowling. "Princess, if you leave this room right now, I am not going to seek revenge for whatever happens to you out there. I don’t give a crap about our deal. If you’re stupid enough to go out there, you’re on your own."

"So what else is new?" Angel snapped, throwing the door open and slamming it after her.

"Stupid little whore!" Benoit screamed.

Jericho frowned. "What’s this about a deal?"

Benoit scowled. "Only the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life."

Jericho raised his eyebrows. Benoit was really pissed. He was worried. He actually cared about the stupid little bitch. It was so weird. Benoit was Mr. Roboto. He didn’t care about anyone or anything. But that was before Angel had come along.

Jericho slowly stepped up to Benoit and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, man, she’ll be okay," he said, not believing it himself.

Benoit shrugged him off. "I don’t give a crap about her. I just thought she was smarter than that."

Just then the door flew open.

"You can cancel your make-out session, okay? He was already gone."

Jericho quickly turned to Benoit, expecting to see relief, but he didn’t. What he saw was pure, unrestrained hatred. He knew that look. He’d received that look. Benoit did hate Angel and, by the looks of things, she hated him right back. They stared at each other with laser beam eyes, powerful enough to explode the whole building. If looks could kill, Jericho was definitely standing near two corpses. So, why the hell did Benoit let Angel manage him, and why the hell did she let him coach her? It just didn’t make any sense.

‘Like I’ll ever understand Benoit,’ Jericho shrugged. He decided he had to stop the glare passing between them, though, before the room caught fire under its intensity.

"I’ve got one. Dudleyz versus Hardyz. Smackdown Xtreme."

Angel spun to face him and he received only a slightly less potent version of that glare.

"I valeted that match," she said coolly. "If you want to play that way and you expect to win, you better know your way around a ladder."

"Don’t worry about that," Jericho replied. "Royal Rumble, Benoit?"

Benoit scowled. He’d lost that match. He really hadn’t needed reminding.

Angel grinned at Benoit’s reaction. "I remember that match. You two were all over each other. Sign of things to come, huh?"

Jericho stepped up to her, sick of her crap. "You know what, sister? You are a bitter, vindictive little bitch."

"Yes, I am," Angel smirked. "And now, I have a little thought for you. When did the Dudleyz last lose a table match?"

"Tonight," Jericho replied.

"Cocky," Angel mused. "But if the two of you want to win tonight you’ll have to keep your cocks in your pants and your brains in your heads. Kapiche?"

Jericho furiously folded his arms, but Angel held her ground.

"Try me, Jericho," she said softly, before winking at him. "I’ll make you famous."

* * * *

"You’re letting him go first today," Angel commented as Jericho made his entrance. "That’s nice of you."

"Shut your damn mouth," Benoit scowled.

Angel grinned as the first strains of ‘Shooter’ played. Benoit and Jericho in a table match against the Dudleyz. Suh-weet!

Angel and Benoit both jumped into the ring but, while Benoit and Jericho sized up the Dudleyz, Angel leaned causally back against the ropes. She knew what was about to happen.

Sure enough, William Regal’s music hit, breaking the focus of all four wrestlers. They turned to the stage and saw that Regal was there, and Kurt Angle was standing beside him. Angel hadn’t known about that part. Now, everyone in the ring was a hundred percent hostile.

Regal was holding a microphone and was ready to talk.

"Once again, I grace you wonderful people with my presence. It is only ten days until Backlash, live on Pay Per View. But don’t think for one moment, Chris Jericho, you are getting away lightly. Oh, no. Because you will face me, your WWF Commissioner William Regal, in a Duchess of Queensberry Rules match." Jericho gave him a ‘what the hell is that?’ look, so he went on. "I will explain the rules in due course. And in addition, Chris Benoit. You will face my good friend Kurt Angle in a thirty minute ultimate submission match."

"Told you," Angel said from behind Benoit, making the whip cracking sound again.

"The man who gets the most submissions within half an hour will be declared the winner."

Angel made the sound again.

"I love it," Benoit said coolly.

"Told ya," Angel gloated again, knowing Jericho wasn’t quite so impressed. Well, screw him. She only had to keep Benoit happy.

"Now that I have spread such wonderful news," Regal went on. "Let the tables match begin. Thank you! Thank you!"

Boom! Buh Buh Ray slammed into Benoit as D-Von his Jericho. Angel’s eyes widened as she leaped frantically from the ting. No point getting in the middle of that.

"I am a valet," she told herself. "And this is a table match. I really should help."

She ducked around the ring in front of the announce desk and lifted the ring skirt. She reached down and dragged out a table, then set it up as quickly as she could.

"You guys!" she shouted. "I got you a table!"

She smirked to herself and went to stand in a vacant corner, finally looking in on the action. Jericho and D-Von were battling and Jericho nailed a dropkick, before Benoit dragged Buh Buh in.

"Let’s go, Buh Buh!" Angel cried, just before Buh Buh hit a full nelson sit-out powerbomb.

"Oh yeah!" Angel cried. "Awesome!"

But it only spurred Benoit on as he nailed a knife-edge, only to have a whip reversed into a powerslam. Buh Buh threw his hands in the air as his half-brother climbed to the top. Buh Buh grabbed Benoit’s legs and held them apart.

"Wassup!"

"Wassup!" cried D-Von, flying through the air and slamming his head into Benoit's groin.

Angel cringed. "Ugh. Rather you than me."

Buh Buh slammed his hands into D-Von’s chest. "D-Von!"

"What?"

"Get the table!"

Both Dudleyz climbed from the ring to do just that.

"Good Lord," Angel laughed from the other side of the ring. "Benoit’s about to get wood."

As the Dudleyz lifted the table to put it in the ring, Jericho pulled the baseball slide, but the Dudleyz just lifted the table and Jericho slipped through the gap. Before he could muster an offense, the Dudleyz moved the table back and slammed it into his face.

"Yeah!" Angel cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Alright!"

Benoit was still writhing inside the ring as the Dudleyz set up the table and waited for him to stand so they could perform the 3-D. Benoit stood, the Dudleyz grabbed him, but just as he was about to taste wood, Jericho appeared and pulled the table out the way. Benoit slammed into the canvas as Jericho hit a spinning heel kick on D-Von and went after Buh Buh, only to be punched down again. Buh Buh kept punching Jericho and laid him out on the table as D-Von went up top again, but before he could fly, Benoit attacked, dropping D-Von onto the ropes so they hit him in the groin. Buh Buh started after Benoit, but Jericho jumped off the table and flew at him, pushing him out of the ring.

"Hey Buh Buh Ray!" Angel cried from around the corner. "I got a table here. All you have to do is get in there and throw one of them out. They’ll go right through it."

Buh Buh raised his weary head and stared right at her before slowly, slowly breaking into a grin.

Angel smirked back. "It’s right here, Buh Buh. Just throw ‘em and…uh oh."

Buh Buh was chasing her. She turned to run, but slammed straight into the table. Suddenly, Buh Buh grabbed her and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. He turned her towards him and put her legs over his shoulders, ready for the powerbomb through the table.

Instead of grabbing Buh Buh’s head, Angel grabbed for his clothes.

"I can do this!" she screamed as she started to fly through the air. "Ah, shiiiit!"

Crack! Angel bounced to her feet next to the broken table.

"I did it!" she cried, spinning to see Buh Buh lying there. "Has Lita ever pulled the ‘rana to save herself from going through a table? I don’t think so."

Up in the ring, the ref had heard the crash.

"Keep going!" he shouted. "The valet interfered."

"Arrrgh!" Buh Buh cried furiously, picking himself up and glaring at Angel.

"And now we run," she murmured.

Buh Buh chased after her for a moment before remembering he was in a match. He dove back into the ring just in time to move the table out the way of the Benoit and Jericho double superplex on D-Von. He then clotheslined Jericho from the ring and isolated Benoit, only to find himself in the waistlock. One German. Two Germans. Benoit set the third up next to the table, but just as he hit it, D-Von moved the table. The match went on.

Jericho nailed D-Von with a missile dropkick, before he and Benoit set the table up again and put D-Von on it Benoit kept D-Von down while Jericho went for the lionsault, but just as he hit the ropes, Buh Buh pulled him down from outside the ring. It was now up to Benoit to finish things. He spread his arms. Headbutt time. But just as he climbed the turnbuckles, Kurt Angle raced down the ramp and shoved him through the air, and through the table.

Kurt then switched his gaze to Angel, who glared back at him She quickly climbed into the ring and ran over to Benoit. While she was next to Benoit, even injured Benoit, she was safe.

Kurt smiled smugly at the carnage and backed up the ramp.

"Hey Benoit," Angel gloated. "Got wood?"

"Shut up!" he snapped, grabbing for his left wrist.

"You know, I didn’t see you signal," Angel informed him. "You always miss the headbutt when you don’t signal."

"I signaled," Benoit fumed through clenched teeth.

Just then, Jericho appeared.

"Hey Benoit," he said, crouching beside him. "Are you okay?"

Benoit was still crying out and holding his wrist.

"Told you you’d lose," Angel called out.

Jericho glared at her. "Would you please shut the hell up?" He turned back to Benoit. "I missed it. What happened?"

"Angle," Benoit muttered. "Son of a bitch."

"Kirk Angel did this?" Jericho cried, glaring up the ramp where Kurt had been. "Piece of shit. Come on, let’s get out of here."

They rolled from the ring and Jericho put a supportive arm around Benoit, who slumped against him. Jericho spun to Angel. "Little help?"

Angel just stepped back and raised her hands.

"Five…four…three…two…" she counted.

"I’m okay," Benoit fumed, standing under his own power. "I can walk."

"Okay," Jericho replied. "But we’ve at least gotta get that arm checked out."

"No," Benoit scowled. "It’s fine."

"He wont go to the trainer’s room," Angel cut in. "Says it’s for pussies."

Jericho turned to glare at her. "Fine. You go, then."

"What?"

"Get an elastic bandage and some of that cooling or heat cream."

"Look, Jericho. I know Benoit. He won’t…"

"I don’t care. Get it!"

"Fine!" Angel snapped. "You two go take a shower together. I’ll see you in the locker room."

* * * *

Angel stormed into the locker room and thrust the bandage and tube of cream at Jericho. "Here. And just so you know, I’m his manager. I’m not your errand girl."

"It’s not for me," Jericho muttered, squeezing some cream from the tube. "Although I’ll probably use some of this. It’s magic." He turned to Benoit. "Okay, show me that arm. This won’t help if it’s broken, but I think it’s probably only sprained."

Angel threw her hands onto her hips. "Aw, how sweet. I knew it was only a matter of time before you started holding hands."

Jericho swiveled his head. "Do you think you can shut up?"

Angel just smiled sweetly until he turned back to Benoit’s arm.

"Sorry about how that stuff smells," she said at last. "But they were all out of edible body paint."

Benoit slammed his foot onto the ground.

"Kick her ass," he growled at Jericho. "I’ve had enough of her."

"Now, now, Benoit," Angel taunted. "If Jericho touches me, you know what’ll have to happen. And we don’t want that, do we?"

"Right now I don’t care," Benoit fumed. "I’m sick of you."

But Jericho made no move to get up.

"Just ignore her," he advised. "She’s just trying to get a rise out of you."

"I know what she’s doing," Benoit snapped, pulling his arm away. "That’ll do. It’s fine."

"I haven’t put the bandage on yet," Jericho frowned.

"I don’t need it," Benoit replied, flicking his arm and hand out to keep it loose.

"Yeah, he’s a tough guy," Angel agreed. "He thinks it turns you on."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed. "Just sit down and shut up! You win tonight, princess, okay? You win!"

"Not yet," Angel muttered, dropping to the ground for yet another set of pushups. "But the night is young."

When she was done with her pushups, she sat down on the bench and started stretching her arms.

"By the way, Benoit," she called out. "Just thought I’d remind you about the punching bag."

"What?"

"You said we could get a punching bag for the locker room," Angel explained.

"Princess, in a second I’m gonna use your face as a punching bag. I told you to shut the hell up."

Angel just shrugged and continued her stretches. Suddenly, Jericho was in front of her, leaning against the wall with one hand and playing personal space invaders. Somewhat threatened, Angel backed right up against the wall, but he just closed in on her again.

"I’ve got you all figured out, baby," he said quietly, reaching out his free hand to run a thin spike of her hair between his fingers. "Even more than Benoit does. You might think you’re some dark, mysterious, hardcore, bad ass bitch, but I know what you’re about. You’re not that complex."

"We’ll see, Jericho," Angel replied, holding his gaze. She was not going to let him break her down, anymore than she was Benoit.

Finally, he began to walk away.

"Hey, Jericho," Angel called instantly, before waiting for him to turn back. "I’d take a shower if I were you. You’ve got BO something chronic, and I hear Benoit likes ‘em clean."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed before Jericho could reply.

Angel sighed happily, feeling that sweet, gooey sensation she only got when Benoit was truly pissed off. All of the men round here were the same. They might have her with physical strength, but she wasn’t going to crumble.

"None of you can beat me," she said quietly. "I’ve got looks, I’ve got brains and I can do a mean ‘rana. I’ve got it all."

* * * *

Still fully dressed, Benoit sat back in bed, watching Kurt Angle’s match from a week and a half ago. It was a hardcore title match against Kane who, as of the very night Benoit was watching, no longer held that title. Rhyno had beaten him, which was probably the reason for the little whore’s over-the-top attitude session. That was the second title win Benoit had stopped her from valeting. She was probably starting to get a complex about it.

Kane had trounced Angle a week and a half ago, though, just like Benoit was going to do at Backlash. Kurt thought he was so special, forcing a bunch of green wrestlers, probably just out of high school, to submit. Well, Benoit had showed he wasn’t green, forcing Angle to tap from the crossface, sprained wrist and all.

‘At Backlash I wont have a sprained wrist,’ he thought. "At Backlash, Kurt Angle won’t have a hope.’

Suddenly, a noise jarred him from his thoughts and he turned to it slowly. The whore was standing there, looking back at him, daring him to speak. She was ready to go out, and she’d gone to far too great an effort. Jeff Hardy was worth it, maybe, but not Test. She didn’t even like Test.

Benoit’s eyes traveled the length of her body and finally met her gaze. "Congratulations. You actually look like a woman."

Angel gave him a sarcastic smirk. "I hear your words. But I know what you mean is, congratulations, you look like a hooker."

"Test will be impressed," Benoit smirked.

"He’d better be," Angel announced, staring deep into Benoit’s eyes. "’Cause I’m getting laid tonight and even I’m not willing to stoop that low." She explained herself with a raise of her eyebrows. "Don’t wait up. I won’t be back tonight."

"Doesn’t take all night to degrade yourself," Benoit pointed out, just as she’d turned away.

"Yeah? Well, maybe I want to degrade myself multiple times." And then she was gone.

Benoit sighed and turned back to the TV. He’d thought she was better than that, he really had.

‘That’s what you get for treating her like a man,’ he thought. ‘They don’t call them the weaker sex for nothing.’

He broke into a smirk as Kane slammed Kurt down at the bottom of the ramp. Thirty-minute ultimate submission match. The whore was right. He loved it!

* * * *

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Test opened the door and Angel jumped on him before he even registered who it was. Startled, he soon figured it out, wrapped an arm around her and carried her into the room. As the door shut, he released her and let her drop to her feet.

"Hi."

"Hi," Angel grinned, grabbing his head and kissing him again.

Test grabbed her sides and pushed her away a little.

"Let me get a look at you."

She stepped back with her hands on her hips, letting him take her in. She was wearing the mother of all tiny red dresses and in her four-inch heels she was over six feet tall, with legs that went on forever.

"That is one hot dress," Test murmured breathily.

"You think?" Angel frowned, trying to pout just like Trish. "Because it’s kind of uncomfortable. I think I’d like to get out of it."

Test broke into a grin. "You’re something, you know that?"

Angel grinned back, slowly walked up to him and then carefully, deliberately, tangled her body with his.

"I know," she breathed, lips right in front of his. "Think you can keep up with me?"

Test responded by kissing her greedily and running his hands up and down her body. Angel deepened the kiss and slowly ran her hands down Test’s chest, stopping them at the waistband of his pants. She curled her fingers up inside the bottom of his shirt and, in one quick movement, lifted it as far as she could. Test broke the kiss long enough to shrug off his shirt, then got straight back into it again. Angel grinned and firmly pushed him back onto the bed, then arched her body forward and started kissing down his chest. He slid his hands up, over her ass, up her back, searching for the zip to her dress. He found it and expertly pulled it down. Angel kicked off her dress and they were all over each other again. Test put a hand on her back to break her fall and gently rolled her over. Then he bent his head and started kissing her neck as his hands swept up, over her flat stomach. His lips headed down, as he stopped at the hollows above her collarbone, flicking his tongue out gently, deliberately and his hands cupped her still-covered breasts.

Angel smiled as she slipped her legs between his, lifted her hands to his head and buried them in his hair. So many wrestlers had long hair – Test, Edge, Christian, Rhyno, Jericho, Bradshaw, Triple H, X-Pac, Matt…Jeff. She wondered if it was Samson and Delilah complex – cut the hair, he loses his strength. But then, the last three Federation champions had been Stone Cold, The Rock and Kurt Angle. No hair, short hair and short hair. She was still pondering this when…

Knock! Knock! Knock! "Room service!"

"Shit!" Test swore, dropping Angel like a ton of bricks. "I forgot about that."

He jumped to his feet and stepped over to the door, still wearing only his pants.

Angel grinned, but then remembered. Test was proud of his body. He’d probably answer the door totally naked, given the opportunity. Loads of wrestlers probably answered their doors wearing no shirts. She knew that Jeff did, anyway. He’d done it dozens of times to her.

Angel curled her limbs in front of her as she waited for Test to finish with the room service dude. She absently stared at her hand, then started examining her bright red nails. Not a bad paintjob, she surmised. Considering it was probably the first time she’d even worn nail polish since…since Jeff used to paint them for her. He was really good at it. Better than she was, anyway. It used to kind of creep her out that he wore it, but in the end she’d decided it was actually pretty sexy. She looked up at Test again. He was half out the room, but he had his hand inside, holding the door in place. No nail polish.

‘Give him a chance, Angel,’ she told herself. ‘You can’t expect him to be like Jeff. That’s not fair. Jeff doesn’t give a crap about you. Test at least wants to do you and that’s good enough. Besides, you still want to find out about that thing he does with his tongue that supposedly makes him the best lover around. Hang in there, girl.’

"I can’t believe I ordered this," Test cried, stepping back into the room and startling Angel. "Hey, you okay?"
Angel raised her head and smiled at him. "Yeah, it’s just a little cold over here without you."

Test broke into a sexy grin. "Well, we’ll definitely have to turn up the heat inhere or something." He set down the bottle and glasses he was holding. "That can wait. You, however…" He jumped onto the bed and Angel cried out as they continued where they’d left off.

"Getting warmer now?" Test asked, planting random kisses anywhere he could reach.

Angel responded by moving her hands to the front of his pants and undoing them. Test kissed her mouth and kicked off her pants, then drifted his hands to her back as he moved his lips down slowly, down her neck, her chest, her stomach. His mouth touched her belly button ring and he ran his tongue over it. He’d never really noticed it before, but now he spent a little more time there, playing with it.

"When’d you get this?" he asked softly. "It’s sexy."

Angel smiled and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. "Kat wanted me to get it because Jeff had one. Peer pressure. I think I’ll take it out, though."

Test froze.

"No," he said, looking up into her eyes. "Leave it in."

Angel grinned. "Yeah, you’re right," she murmured, grabbing at his face and pulling it up to meet hers.

Test bared down on her and kissed her deeply.

"Angel," he murmured against her lips. "Do you close your eyes when you kiss me?"

"Of course," Angel replied, moving her mouth over his.

"What do you see?" Test went on, before explaining. "Because I see you."

Angel pulled away from him and frowned. "I see you, Test. Of course I see you." She pulled him back in again.

Test’s fingers pressed into her shoulders as she kissed him. She’d been convincing, true, but that didn’t change one glaring fact. She’d paused too long. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled away.

"Angel. We can’t do this."

Angel wrapped her arms around his neck. "Course we can."

Test grabbed her face and pushed her gently. "No, we can’t."

Angel frowned and folded her arms. "Why the hell not?"

Test took a deep breath. "It’s just the wrong time for us."

"What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

Test sighed. Why’d she had to ask him that? Now she was going to get pissed at him.

"You’re in love with Jeff Hardy."

"What?" Angel screamed, just as he’d known she would.

"I’m not Jeff," Test said slowly. "And I can’t be Jeff. He’s the one you want to be with."

Angel scrunched her face up, suddenly incapable of speech. "What…but…I don’t want to be with Jeff. I want to be with you. Why would I want to be with Jeff? How could you even think that? You’ve seen what he’s like. Just…just…why? Why the hell would I want to be with Jeff?"

"Because you love him," Test said quietly. "And he loves you. And you both know it. I just wish you’d both admit it."

Angel scowled at him and leaped off the bed.

"You’re crazy," she accused.

"Maybe," Test mused. "But I’m also right."

Angel’s scowl deepened as she picked up her dress and angrily put it on.

"I don’t need this," she spat. "I’m out of here." She stopped and turned back, still scowling. "You know, we could have been great together, Test. I thought we were just gonna hang out and have some fun. That’s what I wanted and I thought you wanted it too. But then you had to go and say something stupid and ruin it all. Thanks for nothing." She furiously stepped out of the room, slamming the door after herself.

Test sighed and lay back on the bed. That had gone…as well as could be expected. He’d been meaning to call her on the Jeff situation all night, but she’d just looked so damn hot and then gotten him so damn hot he’d almost let it go. He’d known Jeff and Angel were in love with each other for weeks now, since Jeff had gotten so shitty when he’d caught them hugging. He’d still wanted to sleep with Angel, of course. She was totally hot and incredibly fun to be around. He probably would have done it, too, except for one thing. He’d gotten to know her. She tried to hide herself, most people around here did, but even the little bits and pieces she let slip to the surface were totally incredible. Her bright eyes, her outstanding body, her great tits…and then there was the other stuff, too. Her sense of adventure, her quick mind, her smart mouth. The way she never, ever backed down from a challenge. The way she stubbornly always had to save face, like right now.

Angel wasn’t the kind of girl you had a one-night stand with. She was the kind of girl you fell in love with. And Test just wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet, anyway. Not after everything that had happened to him in the past. He could just see the Angel train, running down the Stephanie track, heading in the right direction, right direction, right direction, only to turn off just before it reached his station. Only Angel would turn off to Jeff, not Hunter as Steph had done.

Test didn’t know how things would work out for Angel and Jeff. If they got back together, great. If they didn’t, well, that was great, too. In the future, Test would be more than willing to hook up with Angel. Burt she had to get over Jeff first. And that was going to take some time and space. And if giving Angel time and space was what it would take to stop Test from being hurt, well, he was prepared to give it. He’d been down that road before. There was no way he was going there again.

* * * *

Angel strode purposefully through the room after discovering, much to her disgust, that Benoit was still watching his tapes.

"Don’t even start with me."

"Back already?" Benoit asked coolly.

Angel stopped and spun furiously. "I said, don’t start with me."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "What, Boy Wonder wasn’t quite so wonderful?"

Angel glared at him furiously before replying. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Benoit just cocked his head and stared at her, so she went on.

"You always say you’ll tell me, but you never do. So, I wanna know. What do you want from me?"

"You wanna know?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised. "You really wanna know?"

Angel nodded slowly.

"Okay," Benoit said thoughtfully. "Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of Rhyno?"

"Yes," Angel said softly.

"How about Kurt Angle?"

"Yes."

"Steven Richards?"

"Yes."

"Buh Buh Ray Dudley?"

"Yes."

"Triple H?"

"Yes."

"Kane?"

"Yes. What are you trying to…"

"What about me, princess? Are you afraid of me?"

"No."

"Why not?’ Benoit demanded.

Angel shrugged. "I don’t know."

"You don’t know? You don’t know? Come on, princess. There’s gotta be a reason, Why aren’t you afraid of me? Why don’t you see me and tremble like you do when you see Rhyno? He’s supposed to be your friend. I can’t stand the sight of you and yet he’s the one you fear. Why? I want to know why! Tell me!"

Angel raised her eyebrows. "That’s it? You keep me around because you want me to fear you? Of all the pathetic things I’ve heard, that’s gotta be the weakest. Please. And you say I’m the child." She turned to head for her room.

"Stop right there and turn around!" Benoit screamed, so she did. "Never turn your back on me! Do you hear me? Never. Why? Why don’t you fear me? You’ve seen what I’m capable of. What the hell is the matter with you?"

Angel folded her arms and smirked at him.

"You wanna know?" she mocked. "You really wanna know?"

Benoit just glared at her, breathing heavily.

"I’m not afraid of you," Angel said slowly. "Because you have no balls."

"Excuse me?" Benoit shouted.

"How could I fear you, Benoit?" Angel asked. "When you’ve never been able to give me what I deserve? Even since the moment we first me, when I didn’t have to see your hideous face every day, I’ve been goading you and goading you and goading you. And yet you do nothing to me. Everything I’ve gotten, every time I’ve been hurt, I’ve deserved it. When I got gored by Rhyno, I deserved it. When I got punched by Christian, I deserved it. When I got beaten up by the Radicalz, I deserved it. Pedigree, Angle Slam, Steven kick, even that ringbell to the head. I deserved it all. But everything I did to deserve all that is nothing compared with what I’ve done to you. I’ve been an evil, manipulative bitch. I know it, because I was doing it on purpose. I push you and push you and push you and I deserve a punch in the face, but I know you’ll never do it. You don’t have the balls. And it has nothing to do with the fact that if you hurt me you have to let me go. That’s why I’m always looking for people to fight you, to win me. Because I know you’ll never hurt me. You never could and you never will. I don’t know why. You do it to everyone else. Maybe I’m special."

Benoit was fuming it her.

"You’re not special," he scowled. "You’re nothing!"

"Nothing you can stop," Angel grinned. "Come on, Benoit. Why don’t you get up and take a shot at me, huh? We’ll both get what we want. Just hit me, Benoit! Get your ass up and hit me! Come on! Make me fear you! Grow some balls! Hit me!"

Benoit got madder and madder, but still he didn’t move.

Angel nodded slowly. "Yeah," she murmured. "That’s what I thought." She turned to enter her room.

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she flew through the air. Her back slammed against the wall and she slid to the ground. Benoit stood over her, flexing his muscles, his hands twitching, waiting, ready. At first Angel was startled, but then she slowly broke into a smirk and got to her feet, right in Benoit’s face. In her heels she stood taller than him and she let him know all about it. She reached out and grabbed him by the face, staring threateningly into his eyes.

"You’re pathetic," she said with a shake of her had. "And I might be your slave, but you, Benoit. You’re my bitch."

She shoved him back onto the bed, then headed into her room and shut the door.

Benoit bounced furiously to his feet, glaring at the closed door. He let out a trail of expletives as he ran about the room in a fury. He picked up a lamp and threw it against the wall. It made a satisfying shattering sound. Therapeutic, but not good enough. He wanted that lamp to be her head. He wanted to see her shatter, dammit.

"Goddamn piece of shit bitch!" he screamed, picking up the TV. He threw it as hard as he could and it yanked the cord from its socket and hit the ground with a thud, a smash and a buzz. He’d killed it, killed the TV. But it wasn’t her, it’s never be her.

He couldn’t hurt her. He’d always known it. But now it was worse. Now she knew, and he knew that she knew. He didn’t know the reason either, any more than she did, but now he knew the facts. He couldn’t hit her unless she feared him and she wouldn’t fear him unless he hit her.

Benoit raced across the room and slammed his body into her door. He gripped the doorframe and pressed his cheek against the wood, trying to slow his breathing.

"Never, never, never, never," he murmured rhythmically. "Never, bitch, never! You will never beat me! Never!"

Still fuming, he ran a hand over his hair and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Never," he repeated, quiet again. "Never."

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew he could no longer use them with certainty. Now, nothing was certain.