A/N: This was just a little idea for a story that I've been kicking around in my head, and I finally got around to writing a chapter. Not sure when I'll update it, since I'm trying to finish another story, but I will keep on it. I wrote this partly as a personal challenge to myself: I wanted to see if I can write a story where Randy Orton is a decent human being (because he's more or less the Antichrist in my other one). Also, I really wanted to write a story with the Undertaker. And Ashley Massaro, 'cause she's badass. So, read, enjoy, and hopefully review! Peace!

A/A/N: This story takes place from August to December of 2005

Everything You Can Never Be

Chapter 1: Diva Initiation

SummerSlam 2005

"Okay, girls, that's a wrap!" Stephanie McMahon called out from her vantage point a few feet behind the cameraman. Her blue eyes swept over the scene critically, searching for any details she might have missed. Satisfied that nothing had escaped her notice, she pressed her lips together and bobbed her head in a small nod, indicating that the promo was indeed finished. "Good job, everyone!" she added absently, before becoming lost in the group of writers and crew members who swarmed on her almost immediately.

The six Divas surrounding the soaped-up limousine relaxed; breaking away from their assembly line positions into small groups, discarding their wet sponges and chatting eagerly.

All except one.

Ashley Massaro tossed her sponge into a nearby bucket of water, rotating her body to lean back against the limo. She sighed, reaching up with one hand to run her fingers through her black-streaked blond hair. She was probably going to get suds in it, but she didn't really care. This scant minute and a half of footage would mark her sole appearance at SummerSlam; who was going to notice a little soap?

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest, surveying the bustle of activity around her. She had been declared the winner of the Raw Diva Search exactly six days ago, and she had yet to felt any real sensation of happiness. Oh, sure, there was the elation she'd experienced when she'd heard her name announced, the roller coaster of emotion that had possessed her until the early hours of the following morning. She remembered very little about the night, only the feeling and the sound of her cell phone ringer going off as fans called to offer congratulations. But as the days went by, that euphoria had slowly dissipated, doubt taking its place. By the time she arrived at the arena this afternoon, Ashley had been a nervous wreck. And when she had out that her first official act as a WWE Diva would be to don a bikini and wash a car…it had been hard to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

She shouldn't have been surprised, she told herself. After all, every Diva there was a piece of eye candy first and a wrestler second, and as the rookie, she didn't really have a choice. She couldn't expect to just show up and magically be declared the next number one contender. But logic couldn't really dispel the overwhelming desire she felt to get in that ring and compete, to show everyone that she was more than just a pretty face, that she could be beautiful and strong.

Too bad she was the only one who thought so.

Ashley had met several of the Superstars, from both brands, in the few hours she'd been here. Some had been polite, some had been rude, and some had been downright creepy, but no matter what their response, she'd glimpsed the same thought, the same critique in their eyes: Eye candy, definitely.

The Divas hadn't been much better. The moment she'd stepped in the locker room, all their chatter had faded into silence as one by one, they turned to stare at her like some exhibit you'd see at the zoo. Ashley could sense them taking in the various unusual facets of her appearance: the black highlights, the tattoo, the piercing in her upper lip. And even though there had been nothing in their faces to indicate criticism, she could almost hear the thoughts circulating in the air above them: God, what were the fans thinking?

Ashley knew that she shouldn't mind. After all, she had gone through this kind of shit in high school; the cliques, the snap judgments people make about someone. She had always been the rebel, the punk chick, the tomboy. She knew that she wasn't the traditional definition of pretty, and for some reason, some girls took offense at that. She had never let it bother her, because unlike those shallow empty bitches out there, she actually knew and liked who she was.

But this was different. Walking into that room and knowing instinctively that all the other women in there were quietly judging her—Ashley would have been lying if she said that it hadn't hurt. She guessed it would be just another thing that she would have to prove—that she could be a WWE Diva, period. It just needled her, this need, this craving, this almost painful ache to be not just liked or respected, but accepted. It seemed so juvenile, and she hated the fact that she could succumb to it just like everyone else.

For not the first time, Ashley found herself missing the company of the other Diva Search girls. Sure, they had all been competitors, but they were all in the same boat, more or less, and at the end of the day, all they had really had was each other. Ashley wished that Kristal or Elizabeth could have been here with her; anything to make that first locker room appearance more bearable. The three of them had become particularly close during the competition, and as each week went by, Ashley found herself dreading that fateful Monday when one of them would inevitably have to go home. First it had been Kristal, then Elizabeth, and then suddenly Ashley had found herself a quarter of a million dollars richer...and alone. She was the Raw Diva Search winner of 2005…but at the expense of her friends.

Like they always said, it was lonely at the top, and so far, Ashley had not found anyone willing to forge a friendship with her. Even Christy Hemme and Maria Kanellis had come across as distant, as though by befriending her, they would be moving down a step in the locker room ranking. Ashley found this extremely hypocritical. More than anyone else, they should understand what it was like to be the new girl, the rookie, in a room full of seasoned Divas.

Ashley mentally rolled her eyes. Whatever. If those two wanted to be stuck-up bitches just because they'd been with the company for a year, so be it. But she wasn't about to start kissing their asses to make them like her.

The rookie Diva rubbed her forearms briskly, shivering a little in the cool air of the parking garage. She'd been out here in a skimpy bathing suit for long enough; time to go back to the locker room and throw on some real clothes. Ashley mentally retraced the return route, turned to go—and then groaned when she saw the two figures coming rapidly towards her.

Candice Michelle had been blessed with one of those faces that make just about any emotion—no matter how ugly—absolutely gorgeous. Right now, the one gracing her delicate features was pure disdain, and even Ashley had to admit that she wore it well. The brunette ground to a halt a few feet from Ashley, fellow SmackDown Diva Torrie Wilson just behind her.

Ashley had only known Candice for two hours, but it hadn't taken her very long to witness the other Diva's true colors. Behind that exotic face, Candice was nothing more than a spoiled selfish whiny little bitch with a penchant for temper tantrums. From the way she'd been cozying up to Vince McMahon before the shoot, Ashley was willing to add "golddigger" to that list as well. For some reason, she'd taken an instant dislike to the Diva Search winner, and had spent every minute since then being deliberately catty. Ashley really didn't give a damn about what Candice thought of her, but the SmackDown Diva was starting to piss her off with her petty bullshit. The rookie Diva braced herself for the inevitable "Mean Girls" moment.

She couldn't help but notice that the brunette Diva still had her sponge in hand, and she was right to. Abruptly, Candice reared back and chucked it at Ashley with surprisingly good aim, catching the rookie Diva square in the chest.

Ashley involuntarily gasped as the sopping wet rectangle slapped against her skin. It slid off her with almost deliberate slowness, landing on the floor with a SPLAT. Ashley could feel cold water trickling down her chest and abdomen, seeping into her bikini top. Great, and she was wearing white too…she might as well walk around topless from now on.

She looked back up at Candice, her eyes blazing with sudden anger. "What the hell is your problem?" she demanded furiously.

Candice's scornful expression deepened into a scowl. "My problem?" she repeated. "Six takes, six takes, before Steph finally says okay. Six takes…for a fricking minute of your pathetic life." She took a step toward Ashley, her dark eyes full of derision. "Any idiot can wash a car—what the hell were you doing?"

Ashley looked off to the side, wanting to scream. It had been like this for the past two hours: Candice getting on her case for all sorts of inane stupid shit. Even if the promo shoot had gone perfectly, Candice still would have found a reason to complain—and a reason to blame it on Ashley. The rookie Diva rolled her eyes, thanking God that at least they were on different brands.

She threw her hands up in the air. "You know what, Candice?" she replied, her voice exasperated. "You're right; it was all my fault. I fucked up the whole shoot because I'm a rookie Diva who doesn't know any better." She shook her head. "Whatever. I'm going back to the locker room." She moved slightly to the left, intending to sidle around Candice, but the SmackDown Diva quickly sidestepped, blocking her path.

"You just think you're so great, don't you?" Candice's tone was low, but filled with all the menacing sibilance of a snake. "Just because you won some little contest… Face facts, honey, you…you're not the kind of girl that men want. You see, this—" She gestured at her own body, at the two large assets that Nature had not had a hand in creating. "Torrie—" A quick nod of her head toward the blond Diva behind her. "That's what men want. They're not interested in some rocker chick with a hole through her lip."

The very edges of Ashley's vision were starting to tinge with red, and the words fell out of her mouth before she could even consider that they might be a mistake: "At least the fans picked me, Candy."

Very few people remembered that Candice had been eliminated from the first Diva Search, and it was certainly something that she hated being reminded of. As soon as the meaning of Ashley's statement sunk in, the brunette Diva's face flushed a dark crimson, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a snarl and her fingers curving into claws. "You bitch—" she spat, lunging at Ashley. She probably would have tackled the Diva Search winner, if Torrie hadn't suddenly grabbed her arm with both hands, restraining her.

"Whoa, Candice, calm down," she soothed, her pretty face full of concern. "She didn't mean it. Besides…" Taking one hand off her arm, she cupped it over Candice's ear, whispering something. Ashley couldn't hear what it was, but it apparently had some profound effect on Candice, because the rage faded from her face and her color slowly returned to normal. By the time Torrie pulled back, the brunette Diva's features had already resumed their original expression of haughty contempt.

Torrie let go of Candice, stepping around her and over to the rookie Diva. Ashley tensed for a minute, thinking that Torrie was going to finish what Candice had started, but the blond Diva merely linked her arm through hers, leading her away from the limo.

"Sorry about Candice," Torrie remarked apologetically. "She gets a little high-strung sometimes. It comes from having to put up with Melina all the time." At the mention of MNM's manager, both women shuddered. Ashley had only heard stories about Melina…but what she had heard made Candice seem like Mother Teresa.

"Anyway," Torrie continued. "I know she seems like a bitch, but she means well. This is a hard business, you know. We're on the road all the time, we don't have time for relationships. The men here see you as eye candy, and the women…to them, you're either competition or a waste of space. If you don't get broken in, and broken in hard, you'll never survive."

Ashley listened to what the SmackDown Diva was saying. It made sense, but she couldn't help but be suspicious. Torrie always acted sweet and bubbly, but there was something about her sweetness that seemed deadly, like poisoned honey. Plus, she hung around with Candice. That could not bode well.

"So," Torrie chirped, oblivious to all of Ashley's doubts. "Candice and I came up a little initiation for you, something to prove that you have what it takes to be a Diva. Think of it as…a rite of passage." They were nearing the hallway that led out from the garage into the arena. Torrie stopped, turning Ashley toward her. "Of course, you don't have to, but…" She let the thought trail off.

Ashley almost started laughing. An initiation? It sounded like some bad sorority hazing prank. Ten bucks it was just some stunt guaranteed to give everyone a good laugh and make her look even more ridiculous. If she had any sense at all, she would just walk back to the locker room without even bothering to give Torrie an answer.

But then that feeling surged upward inside her against, the need to be liked, the childish desire to be accepted. More than anything at this point, Ashley wanted a friend, someone to talk to, and if she had to go through some ridiculous rigmarole to find one, then that's what she would do.

She looked at Torrie, making sure to put just the right amount of skepticism in her voice. "What kind of initiation?" she asked.