Title: A-Gore-Able

Rating: PG-13 for violence, adult themes, mind games and the effects of drug use

Spoilers: For the date in question

Summary: The freedom match is over and Angel lost, but there's always Rhyno and Test. Doesn't this seem like a great time for Benoit to change the rules?

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 9TH, 2001

Angel woke up with a blistering headache and no memory of the night before. She vaguely remembered that she'd had her freedom match and had been pulling fast and slow counts but, after that, nothing.

"Must've been some celebration," she murmured, rolling over just to make sure she hadn't picked up some random guy for the continuance of an obviously wild night. She let out a sigh of relief. She was alone.

Next question – where the heck was she? She tried frantically to remember, but her head was positively throbbing and she couldn't think straight. Slowly, carefully, she raised her hand to her head and located the pain. Her fingers swept over a Band-Aid. So it wasn't alcohol. She'd been hit in the head again. Benoit, the son of a bitch, had obviously reacted brilliantly to his loss, pounding the crap out of her. Come to think of it, it wasn't just her head that hurt – the rest of her was also an ensemble of agony. So, she'd been beaten up. One more question – who had rescued her, checked her into the hotel and then put her to bed? She slowly ran her hands down her body and discovered she was fully dressed. A gentleman, obviously, Angel decided, peering down and spotting her ref's shirt.

Finally, she summoned enough energy to get up, take a shower and reclaim the events of last night. She painfully pulled herself up out of bed, padded slowly to the door and opened it.

Benoit looked up from the TV. "So you are alive."

Angel frowned as disappointment, resentment and confusion coursed through her.

"What…what's the time?" she asked weakly.

"Nine thirty. Get your things together. We have to travel."

Angel nodded against her pain. "Why didn't you wake me for training?"

"I didn't think you could take it today."

"I can take anything you can dish out, pal," Angel said, but they both knew the truth so she gave up the fight and sighed deeply. "Who beat me up?"

Benoit didn't look up from the TV. "Kurt Angle."

"Bullshit!" Angel cried with such force that Benoit turned and stared.

"You don't remember a thing, do you?" he mocked.

Angel broke into a scowl. "I remember I was fast-counting Kurt's covers. You must have cheated."

Benoit smirked. "Sit down. I think we'll have training after all."

Angel's eyes widened with apprehension.

"Relax, princess. We're just going to watch a video."

Angel nodded solemnly and sat as Benoit changed tapes and started it up.

Angel watched expressionlessly while Benoit took a more clinical approach, cataloging all his own mistakes as well as Kurt's.

By the end, Angel's head was in her hands and she shook it slowly.

The tape stopped and Benoit switched off the TV.

"I told you you must have cheated," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Benoit ignored her comment. "You honestly wanted to be his manager?"

Angel shook her head coldly. "I wanted to be free of you. He didn't want me anyway."

Benoit nodded. "Well, you're right about that. Now, go get your things or we'll miss our flight."

Angel frowned at him. "Can I shower and change?"

Benoit stared at her, then at his watch and finally at her again.

Angel rolled her eyes at him and headed for her room.

* * * *

Angel strode confidently into William Regal's office. The news that Benoit had won the freedom match had bugged her a lot, as had the realization that Kurt Angle was a cheating, self-serving rodent. She'd gotten over it quickly, though. She had to. She was a survivor. And besides, she still had Test and Rhyno. And she had big plans for Benoit tonight. Big plans!

"Miss Torres, I must say it's a delightful surprise to see you today at all."

Angel nodded. "Life goes on."

"Yes, indeed it does," Regal agreed. "So, my dear girl. What can I do for you today?"

Angel stared at him for a moment before speaking. "Remember we spoke yesterday about Jericho and Benoit's little alliance? I have a great idea which will both nip it in the bud and provide fans with a match the likes of which is usually reserved for Pay Per Views."

Regal nodded thoughtfully. "Go on."

"Picture this," Angel started. "Tonight, on Raw Is War. Benoit versus Jericho. One hell of a match and the continuance of one of the greatest ever feuds. We're talking names linked in the same breath as Sergeant Slaughter and the Iron Sheik, Bob Backlund and Jimmy Snuka, the Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin. A great feud is a terrible thing to end over something as trivial as 'common enemies'. So, what do you say?"

Regal nodded slowly. "I think that match would be entirely appropriate. Chris Benoit versus Chris Jericho it is. Oh and Miss Torres? Never give up. Good things always come to those who wait."

"I know. Thanks, Commissioner Regal."

* * * *

"Another day, another match," Angel said coolly.

Benoit stared at her. "Do I get to finish off Kurt Angle's stinking carcass?"

"Poetic," Angel smirked. "But no. This match is bigger."

"A title shot?" Benoit asked skeptically.

"Guess again." She went on as Benoit stared at her blankly. "Trust me, it's worthy of a Pay Per View. The gladiatorial struggle continues."

Benoit frowned. "Jericho?"

Angel broke into her smirk. "Ding! Ding! Ding! Here is your winner…"

Benoit cut her off with a single word. "Why?"

"Because…you've always had such good matches before. Isn't it what you want?"

Benoit glared at her. "I think it's time we renegotiate your contract."

Now Angel was on the back foot. "What…what do you mean? You can't do that!"

Benoit smirked evilly. "Princess, last night I won you in a match. If Kurt had cheated enough to beat me, you would have negotiated with him, so I have that same right."

Angel stuck out her bottom lip stubbornly. "What do you want? I'm already your damn slave."

"That's right, you are. But now, things are a little different. For one thing, you are my damn valet and yet you prance around with Edge, Christian and that Rhyno thing."

"I already said you're free to stop…"

"From now on," Benoit spoke over her. "You can go to the ring with whoever you damn well please, provided they're not facing me."

Angel opened her mouth to argue, before she truly realized what he'd said. "I can?"

"Wipe that hopeful little smile off your face. You'll still be my valet as well."

Angel processed it. "Okay, that still sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"

Benoit nodded, smirk in place. "Princess, that's what I like about you. Always so sharp."

Angel's frown deepened. "Tell me."

Benoit's smirk faded as he stared at her intently. "Every match you're at ringside is one less I pay for. If you go with Rhyno, I pay for two. If you go for a tag match and Rhyno, I pay for one. If, by chance, you go for three, well, little girl, you're working my match for free."

Angel was dumbfounded, but she thought fast. "But that'd be like having my old job back. I could valet for eight matches a night and get paid for seven of them."

Benoit shook his head. "One, you don't have that many friends. Not anymore. And two, you still stay here in the locker room when you're not at a match. You won't be able to book clients. So you're going to have to think very carefully about how much money you need to survive."

Angel didn't back down. "I need four or more matches per week. If Edge and Christian have two and Rhyno has two, I'm all set."

"You'd charge your friends?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised.

He said it so disdainfully and Angel knew immediately that he was right. In the old days, Matt and Jeff had paid her because they felt an obligation to Lita, while Al Snow and Steve Blackman had felt sorry for her. That wasn't how it was with Edge, Christian and Rhyno. Friends didn't pay friends to hang out. It just wasn't cool.

She stared at Benoit moodily, knowing he had her trapped and that he knew it too. Realistically, she couldn't afford to give up more than one match per show, even if she did still sponge off Benoit for food and accommodation. She had expenses now – cosmetics, fashion. It was all too easy to get caught up in the Diva way of life. Benoit had given her hope and then hit her right where it hurt. The wallet. That son of a bitch.

"Any other requests?" she spat acidly.

Benoit put his gloating on hold. "Yes. You make my matches, but if I don't like what you get, you go back again, again and again until you get me what I want. Don't worry. I won't make any unreasonable requests."

Angel glared at him. "But I can only take what Regal will give out."

Benoit shrugged. "So use your charm. I'm sure smarter men than him have fallen for it."

Angel glowered at him. "I have no choice, do I? You won me." Benoit just nodded solemnly. "Okay. How does Jericho cut the bacon?"

"I don't want it," Benoit replied, ignoring her turn of phrase.

"But it's a good match," Angel protested.

"I don't care. I wanted Regal or Angle."

"I know that," Angel fumed. "But when this opportunity came up, I had to take it."

"You took it," Benoit echoed. "Because you and Regal are nice and cozy, plotting together in your cute little accents. Now, go back and tell your friend our esteemed commissioner that I want to kick his ass."

"He doesn't like you, Benoit. He's not going to sign this match."

"Make him sign it!" Benoit shouted.

Angel felt her lower lip begin to tremble so she sucked it in. "I…I can't."

"Oh, really?" Benoit asked, breaking into his smirk again. "Something the princess can't do. Can't or won't, princess? You'd whore yourself to Test. Surely Regal's not that great a step down."

"Shut up!" Angel shouted, feeling the tears start and a rock form in the pit of her stomach – the same rock that had been there when Jeff had seen her hugging Test.

"Perhaps you do have standards after all," Benoit mused as she furiously wiped away her tears. "Or perhaps it's because whoring yourself to Regal will benefit me and not you."

"Shut up!" Angel screamed again, but Benoit wasn't done with his monologue.

"But you see, that's where you're wrong, princess. It does benefit you. You work for me. You have to get me what I want. You personally have to keep me happy, no matter how humiliating it is to crawl to Regal on your hands and knees. Because, if that's what it takes, you can be damn sure that you will do it."

"You can't make me," Angel sobbed.

"Actually, yes I can," Benoit replied darkly. "I own you. I won you. It was settled in the ring. And in this business, that makes it law."

Angel suddenly stared up at him tearfully. He was right. She'd lost her own stipulation match. She had no rights. Her tears dissolved into a scowl and she set her jaw.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded.

Benoit cocked his head and stared at her intently, as if trying to read her soul. "When I get it," he said reflectively. "I'll let you know."

Angel ran a hand across her face. "Do you…do you want to rape me? Is that what this is? Some kind of bondage foreplay that's going to end in chains?"

Benoit held her gaze. "You'd probably like that, you goddamn little whore."

Angel swung to slap him, but he caught her arm and threw it down.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but no," he informed her. "It's never been about sex with you."

Angel gulped in a breath of air. "What then?"

Benoit turned away, flexing his muscles. This only pissed Angel off more.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

Benoit turned back slowly, his expression cool. "I want Angle or Regal."

Angel glowered at him. "I can't get you that!"

"No, you can't, can you?" Benoit asked softly. "Because I didn't warn you first. Well, consider yourself warned. Tonight I'll take Jericho but on Thursday you will get me Regal or Angle. Otherwise, you can pack your bags, little girl, because you will be going home."

Angel stared at him fearlessly, but with that rock still firmly implanted in her stomach. She'd just learned the hard way exactly how risky stipulation matches were. But she had to try for another one. Rhyno and Test. They were her only way out.

"Speaking of Thursday," Benoit continued suddenly. "Pack your bags anyway. It's Easter break."

Angel stared at him dumbly as though those words were suddenly foreign to her. "Break?"
Benoit nodded. "We're off from Friday until Monday."

"Off?" Angel spluttered.

Benoit stared at her. "You're not Rhyno."

Angel shook her head as if to clear it. "Where would I go? It's too far to go home."

"I don't care," Benoit shrugged. "But you're not coming with me. You are not now nor ever will be a part of that life."

"I wouldn't want to be," Angel dismissed him irritably, before pondering the problem at hand. "Florida?" she said out loud. "No, if it's Easter, Lita will be there too and I could really do without putting up with more of her shit."

"Figure it out, princess," Benoit advised, walking over to turn the TV on. He was a little pissed off, actually. For a moment then, he'd broken through. She was crying like a little baby and he hadn't even put her in crossface. He could literally feel her breaking as hopelessness began to transform into fear. But then, she'd looked up and stared at him with those eyes. He'd hunted and hunted, staring deep into her, but still he didn't find it. Still she didn't fear him. He was so close, though. He could feel it waiting for him, if only he found a few more buttons to push. And then she'd crumble before him, oh how she'd crumble. Even the most perfectly crafted sandcastle couldn't withstand the rage and unpredictability of the ocean. It would be his victory. No one could stop him. He stared over at her as she hugged her knees tightly and babbled to herself. Just one look at her like that and he knew just how close he really was. So damn close!

Suddenly, there was her friend. They called him the man beast. They said he was unstoppable. Well, Benoit had seen into his eyes and picked it straight away. Unlike the girl's, Rhyno's eyes held fear. A lot of it. That was almost all they did hold. And that was why he attacked so viciously, often without reason. He was scared of what would happen if he didn't.

Right now, he raced into the room and stopped in front of Benoit.

"I'll take her," he said quickly, pointing towards the girl. "I'm taking Angel."

Benoit took a step backwards and nodded smugly, enjoying the sight of those frightened eyes. "Be my guest."

Rhyno looked confused, but then he nodded, grabbed the girl and made his escape.

Benoit watched them go. The man who feared everything carrying the girl who feared nothing. But if he told anyone that, they wouldn't believe him. People were so disappointing, sometimes.

* * * *

"What today, Rhyno?" Angel asked as he carried her towards the stage.

"Handicap," Rhyno replied. "Hollys."

"Crash and Hardcore?" Angel asked, knowing that Hardcore had been out injured for weeks.

"No. The little ones. Both of them. Hollys."

"Molly?" Angel cried.

"Uh huh," Rhyno nodded as his music started and he stepped out onto the stage. "And the other one."

But Angel couldn't get past the fact that Molly was involved. So she had challenged Rhyno. She really was out of her mind. Oh well, Angel had tried to set her straight. If Molly got hurt tonight it wasn't on her head – it was on Crash's.

Rhyno deposited Angel at ringside and got straight into it with Crash, swinging a wild right hand. He missed and Crash went on the attack, rolling Rhyno up for a cradle, but only getting a one count. Crash was up first, leaping onto Rhyno's shoulders and punching him in the head. Next he sent him for an Irish whip, but Rhyno reversed it into a powerbomb.

"Yeah, Rhy!" Angel applauded.

Rhyno bounced to his feet and beckoned Crash. "Come on, get up!"

Suddenly, Molly tapped him from outside the ropes and when he spun around she slapped him across the face.

This was just the distraction Crash needed, leaping and dragging Rhyno down with a hurricanrana into another rollup. This time he got two.

Rhyno was back up in a flash and brought Crash down with a clothesline, before taking a break to rub his sore head. He raised his right fist.

"Who's the man?"

"You are!" Angel cried, but this time not as many fans echoed her sentiments.

"Damn Beantown," she muttered, before concentrating on the action again.

Rhyno had sent Crash for a whip and then a belly to belly suplex. He went for the pin and got a two count.

Angel's hands flew to her head. "Close, Rhy! Go again!"

Crash suddenly surprised Rhyno with a few punches and a flying clothesline. He sent Rhyno for another whip, but reversal followed reversal until Rhyno broke an attempted sunset flip.

"Way to go, Rhy!" Angel cried. "Don't fall for that."

But Crash almost immediately flew off the ropes for a cross-body takedown and another two-count. Another whip into more reversals, before Crash ducked a flying right and turned around, right into a gore. Rhyno made the cover and one…two…three.

"Yeah Rhyno!" Angel screamed, tapping wildly on the apron. "Rhy, look out!" she cried as Molly jumped onto his back. Rhyno snapped, grabbed Molly by the hair and slammed her down onto the canvas. He stood in the opposite corner, waiting for her to find her feet, waiting to gore her, when suddenly someone else leaped into the ring. Hardcore Holly. He was of a similar size to Rhyno and started punching him as Angel cried out in dismay.

"No, Hardcore! Let him go! Come on, Rhyno! Fight back!"

But it wasn't to be as Hardcore threw Rhyno from the ring, then high-tenned Crash and nodded at Molly, before the three cousins exited together.

The TV and Titantron switched to Vince McMahon and his daughter Stephanie as Angel crouched beside her friend.

"Are you okay, Rhyno?" she asked.

"No!" Rhyno cried, rubbing his head. "It's good! It's good! Yes!"

Angel took his hand and helped him to his feet.

"Let's get out of here," she suggested, putting an arm around him for support and gently touching his head with her other hand.

"No!" Rhyno cried. "Let go! Let go!"

He shoved her away and she stared at him, bewildered, as he began to grin. A sinister grin. A grin she had once been terrified of, but was now used to.

Bam! Rhyno's shoulder slammed into her stomach and she fell onto the hard ground. She'd never even seen it coming. She let out a surprised and agonized wail, doubling over as pain spread from her abdomen like fire through bushland.

Rhyno stood over her a few feet away, beckoning her to stand. "Get up!" he cried. "Come on, get up!"

But Angel just lay there, clutching her stomach and sobbing. She wasn't going anywhere.

* * * *

Two of the many people who'd seen it on closed circuit, non-Titantron TV, sprang into action, racing down the hall. They met each other just as they reached the backstage area and each was acutely aware of the other's presence. They didn't speak, but both knew that this would be one of those times where they would work as a team, just by following their instincts.

Benoit went for Rhyno, slamming his fists into his back, then quickly going for a trio of Germans on the thin ringside crash-mats, before finally throwing him into the steel steps.

Test went for Angel.

"Hey, beautiful, are you okay?"

Angel was still screaming in pain and couldn't answer, so Test scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the ramp. He'd lost track of Benoit and Rhyno, but he didn't care. What mattered was getting this girl some medical attention.

* * * *

Angel was still crying and coughing when she and Test reached the trainer's room.

"My friend just got gored," Test announced. "Can you help her?"

"Of course. Set her down."

Test peered down at Angel. "Okay, we're here. I'm just going to put you down and they'll fix you up good as new. Okay?"
Angel responded by coughing loudly and throwing up.

Test took a deep breath, but kept his cool.

"I didn't want to wear this shirt anyway," he muttered, pulling it off.

Angel still wailed as the EMTs checked her.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed. "Oh, God! It hurts! Please help me! It hurts!"

"Okay, we're trying to help you. Tell us where it hurts."

"My stomach! Help, please!" Angel cried, tears streaming down her face. "Test! Test! Make them help me!"

Test frowned. "Can you give her some drugs or something?" he asked, trying to get a word in edgewise over Angel's wails.

"You know what, pally?" one of the EMTs asked. "I think that's a great idea."

* * * *

"Test, Test, this is a Test," Angel sang cheerfully as he carried her in his arms. The drug had started working soon after it was injected and Angel was feeling good. Better than good. Great. Better than great. Freaking euphoric.

"Test, Test, this is a Test!"

Test smiled down at her. It was cute of her to try to sing his entrance music, but it was very obvious that those were the only words she knew as she tunefully but incoherently mumbled the rest of the song.

"Daba da da – hey! Daba da…hey, Test?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Angel reached up and caressed his face. "You know…you're pretty. Really pretty. Anyone ever said that to you?"

Test grinned. "Well, I usually get sexy or even handsome, but thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome!" Angel cried, stroking his face again. "Test, Test, this is a Test."

Test smiled as she started playing with his hair. "How's that stomach doing?"

Angel clumsily lifted the bottom of her tube top, almost too far. "Ow!" she cried. "Still hurts!"

"Sorry," Test frowned. "How about this. Does this hurt?"

"No, that kinda tickles," Angel giggled as his fingers danced along her back.

"Oh, it does, does it?" Test grinned.

"Hey!" Angel shrieked, dissolving into giggles. "Stop it! Test! Cut it out!"

Test just grinned wickedly and kept tickling her.

* * * *

Lita was in a hurry. She just had to catch Linda McMahon before she left. That speech had been one of the most inspiring things Lita had ever heard. It gave her such hope, made her feel empowered as a woman, made her realize that anything was possible, that men were nothing but women's equals – if that. She raced down the hallway, hoping to intercept Linda in the parking lot.

She looked up ahead and rolled her eyes. Test was walking towards her and he was all over the hallway. He held some girl in his arms and they were laughing together. Lita tried to dodge them, but it was almost as though they were purposely aiming for her.

Finally, she actually had to stop before she ran straight into them.

"God, Test!" she cried irritably.

Test peered down at her with a positively goofy grin. "Oh, sorry, Lita."

"That's okay, just get out my way!" Lita pushed past them and continued on her way.

Test and Angel? Lita honestly hadn't expected that. She wondered what Jeff would say when he found out. The poor little guy still wasn't over Angel, although he'd never admit it. Well, now he'd have to get over her. She was obviously taken again.

Test and Angel. Angel and Test. Lita was surprised. Sure, Test was kind of sexy, but wasn't he a little oh, slow for Angel? Then again, good old Tim hadn't exactly been what Lita would call the smartest cookie in the carton. And hey, Test had mellowed into an almost cool guy since he'd stopped hanging with Albert and Trish. Maybe he'd actually be a good influence on Lita's deviant cousin. Suddenly, Lita stopped her thoughts. Why was she wasting her time thinking about Angel, of all people? She had a McMahon to catch!

* * * *

"Lita! Lita! Lita!" Angel chanted as Test continued carrying her. "She's my cousin, didja know?"

"No, I didn't know that," Test replied.

"Yep, my cousin," Angel continued. "She hates my guts."

"Oh, Angel," Test consoled her. "I'm sure she doesn't."

"Sure she does!" Angel cried. "Jeff n' Matt too."

Test gave her a funny look as she slurred her words. "Okay, you're a little high, so I'll let it go."

"Okay, Test. Test, Test, this is a Test."

Test grinned and gripped her carefully. She was kinda cute when she was high.

* * * *

Finally, after some Test-designed detours and several renditions of his theme song, they reached Benoit's locker room.

Benoit took one look at them and nodded coolly. "Good. She's back. Set her down, we have to get to my match."

Test frowned and didn't let go of Angel. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

"Not really. If she's alive, she's my valet. That's the deal."

"You don't even care that she got gored?" Test challenged.

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "I got revenge. I gave Rhyno something to think about. What more do you want?"

Test shook his head slowly. "Now I know why she hates you. You're an asshole."

Benoit's eyebrows rose even higher. "I'd watch what you say to me, kid. You don't want me as your enemy."

Test gave Benoit the once-over, giving him the 'I'm twice your size and we both know it' look he'd last used on Eddie. "I don't see why you're making her go."

"No, you don't. It has nothing to do with you. So, just put her down and leave."

Test started to speak, but Angel grabbed his face with her left hand, pressing her right index finger against his lips. "Shh. It's okay. I don't want you getting in trouble. You can let me down now."

Test sighed and stood her on her feet, his arms hooked protectively around her shoulders.

Angel grinned wildly at Benoit. "Okay, Benoit. Let's go to your match. But you better make it good or I'm gonna fall asleep, okay?"

Benoit gave her a strange look, before raising his eyes to Test. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded.

"She was in a lot of pain. They gave her something. I don't know what. Calmed her right down."

Benoit scowled. "Let's get something straight. Never, ever give that girl drugs without my knowledge again, you hear me?"

Test mirrored his glare. "You're not her father."

"No, and you're not her boyfriend. But I do own her, so what I say goes, okay?"

"Okay, Benoit," Angel cried cheerfully. She tilted her head up towards Test's and tried to whisper, although her voice emerged loud and clear.

"Just go along with what he says. Trust me, it's easier that way."

Test gave her a half-smile, then glared over at Benoit. "I guess I'd better go."

Angel frowned and twisted in his grasp so that she was facing him. "Go? No, don't go. Come down to the match. Benoit's gonna kick Jericho's ass."

Test gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, it's okay. I don't think I'll be welcome down there. But I will see you later." He drew her into his arms for a friendly hug.

"Mmm," Angel murmured, her face pressed against his chest. "You smell good. Bye-bye, Test," she cried cheerfully as he released her.

"Later, Angel."

Angel turned to Benoit, sleepy smile still in place. "He smells good," she announced.

Benoit nodded slowly and grabbed her wrist, leading her to the door. "So I hear."

Angel sighed contentedly as he led her along.

"I really like him. Test, I mean. I like him."

"No, you don't," Benoit muttered.

"Yeah, I do. And you know what else, Benoit?"

"What?" Benoit asked impatiently, not turning back.

"I like you too."

Benoit stopped in his tracks and turned around with a skeptical look on his face. "Exactly how drugged are you?"

Angel just grinned at him and started singing again. "Test, Test, this is a Test."

Benoit let out an exasperated sigh and led her along again. "I'm gonna kill Test."

* * * *

'Shooter' was playing and Benoit solemnly dragged Angel down the ramp, towards the ring.

"Hey!" Angel cried. "I can't sing Test's song to this!"

"Shut up," Benoit scowled, releasing her as he climbed into the ring. "You stay down there and don't move."

"Okay!" Angel cried cheerfully as a countdown started, followed by an explosion.

"Ow!" Angel cried, reaching to her ears. "That was loud!"

She squinted at the golden-haired man as he made his way down the ramp. Chris Jericho. She knew she hated him, she just didn't quite remember why.

"Because he has purple tights," she decided, nodding her head. "Not very blokey."

No sooner had Jericho entered the ring and begun staring off Benoit, than another entrance song started playing. William Regal appeared, dressed in a ref's shirt and holding a microphone. He explained that he was really the only choice of official for such an epic battle.

Angel nodded at him solemnly and held up her fist. "Rock on!"

Regal wiped his feet on the apron and entered the ring, then signaled for Benoit and Jericho to start.

"Yeah!" Angel cried, tapping on the apron. "Let's get it on!"

Benoit and Jericho circled each other then pushed each other around for awhile until Regal told them to get on with it and start fighting properly.

They circled again and the fight was really on. Benoit, Jericho, Benoit, Jericho. It was like watching tennis.

'Except they don't let the crowd go 'Regal sucks' at the tennis,' Angel noted.

All in all, Angel decided the crowd was far too negative. She wanted to change things, so she clapped her hands above her head and began to chant.

"Benoit! Benoit! Benoit!" She stopped when she realized the fans weren't following her lead. 'Oh well. There's just no saving some people.'

Suddenly, Benoit made a waistlock on Jericho and pulled him over for a series of German suplexes. Angel took one look at them and burst out laughing.

Above her head, Regal was ignoring the match and waving at the crowd.

"Hi Commissioner Regal!" Angel cried cheerfully, waving up at him.

"Hello, Miss Torres!" Regal called back. "How are you?"

"I'm great!" she cried, but at that moment, Benoit tapped Regal on the back, demanding to know why his pin on Jericho hadn't been counted.

"Benoit needs to lighten up," Angel decided as Jericho surprised him from behind. "Maybe I should try to start the chant again. Benoit! Benoit! Benoit!" Still the crowd didn't join in, so she just waved them off. "Man, I'm sleepy," she realized. "This match is taking too long."

Back in the ring, Jericho went for a missile dropkick but hit Regal, supposedly by mistake. Then, after clotheslining Benoit, Regal rushed in and shoved Jericho to the mat. Benoit got up, only to be himself shoved down by Regal.

Now the two Canadians both found their feet and both glared at Regal. The commissioner tried to keep the peace, but Jericho kicked him, then Benoit punched him. Jericho also punched him and finally Benoit tried to tear off the ref's shirt. He'd had about all he could take of pseudo referees these past two nights. Now Jericho and Benoit played knife-edge chop ping pong with Regal, before Benoit suplexed him and left him in the middle for the Jericho lionsault. Jericho hit it and he too stepped out the way as Benoit flew in his headbutt. The two supposed enemies were working together beautifully. Jericho grabbed Regal's legs and turned him over into the Walls of Jericho and finally, as the finishing touch, Benoit trapped his arm and locked on the crossface. They both had their prey now and they weren't letting go. It took four refs and then finally, begrudgingly, they released.

Benoit and Jericho stood in the ring, staring each other off. They weren't even supposed to like each other and yet they'd just worked together to kick the WWF commissioner's ass. They were now in deep shit and they were in it together. Neither of them really knew how they felt about that.

Benoit finally tore his eyes away from his old enemy and looked around for the stoned little whore. Where the heck was she? Had she skipped out on his match to go see Test or something? If she had, she'd pay, that was certain. Puzzled, he circled the ring twice, hunting her down. Finally he spotted a single shiny black boot protruding from under the ring. Shaking his head furiously, Benoit lifted the cover. There she was – curled up in a tight little ball, fast asleep, oblivious to the noise of the ring, the crowd and the PA system. He grabbed her boot and firmly dragged her out. She stirred but didn't wake as Benoit gave her a long hard look. As usual, her midriff beneath her tube top was exposed and already a vicious bruise was beginning to make its presence felt. If he put her over his shoulder it would be agony for her – even with the drugs. So, he picked her up as Test had carried her and started up the ramp. She didn't even wake up, but murmured quietly and snuggled against his neck.

Benoit shook his head slowly. It was probably morphine or something like it. Turned you dopey, then put you to sleep. She'd wake up knowing real pain the next morning. That's why she shouldn't have had drugs at all.

"Pain makes you stronger," he muttered as he made it to the backstage area and headed to the locker room. He spotted someone very useful hanging out in the hallway, looking bored as he usually did. Jim Dotson, head of WWF security.

"Hey, Dotson. You think you could take this girl and meet me at my rental car? Black Ford. I don't know what model. Massachusetts plates."

Dotson raised his eyebrows. "Is it a truck?"
Benoit shook his head. "Sedan. Can you do that?" he asked, with only slightly less mocking that usual.

Dotson reached out and took Angel from him. "Yeah, no problem."

Benoit nodded solemnly and continued on his way. Goddamn morphine. "I'm gonna kill Test."

*************************************************************

A/N- There you go, for those who thought Lita wouldn't be in this again. This one was also my little tribute to Jim Dotson, who hasn't worked for the company since about the time this was set. And thank God I proofed it before posting, I found about a trillion mistakes and I bet there's more in there I missed. I am literate, I just suck at typing, plus I kind of like to invent my own sentence structure ;-P. Thanks a bunch to all reviewers, especially Andraste McMahon and Shadow. Check out their ficcies, especially Shadow's 'The Fire Within'. You won't be disappointed. Cheers!