RATING: PG-14
SETTING: Doyle goes to Sunnydale to meet the gang and meets a vision...then he has one. Willow/Doyle
DISCLAIMER: All characters are copyright Joss Whedon. We just like to play with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Can I just say how much I miss Doyle? And this one's for Seren, to help her with the mourning.

PART 1

“Hello?”

Doyle pulled away from the phone as if it had bit him. “Hello?”

“Hello.”

Looking over at Cordelia, he pointed at the receiver. “I thought you said the Watcher was a stuffy, British guy.”

“He is.”

“Hello?” The soft, distinctly feminine voice came from the receiver.

Cordelia laughed. “It’s Willow. Say hello, Doyle.”

Clearing his throat, Doyle held the phone back up. “Er, sorry there, Doll. Hello. I’m…er…”

“Doyle?” Willow asked with a giggle. “Did you need to talk to Giles?”

“What?” Doyle shook his head. What was going wrong with him? He’d never been at such a loss from a woman’s voice, not even during his brief distraction with Cordelia. “Er…yeah. Um…no. If you could just let him know that we’re going to be in town this weekend. Me and Cordelia, that is. Angel is staying to keep the nights safe for the unsuspecting. Or something like that. Me, I think he’s gonna brood about something and he just wants to do it in peace and quiet.”

Willow giggled again, a soft, simple sound that sent a trickle of something down his spine. “All right. Do you need a place to stay? We could arrange something.”

“Nah, not necessary. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

“All right. We’ll see you this weekend.”

“All right. Wait! You don’t know what I look like.”

Smiling at his rushed, breathless words, Willow giggled once more. “I’m going to guess you’ll be the one with Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Right.” Doyle nodded, feeling foolish. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Bye Doyle.”

He stared at the receiver after she hung up, unaware of Cordelia’s gaze on him, her eyebrows raised in question. “See you this weekend? Very suave.”

“Willow, huh?” He finally hung up the phone, turning back to the desk and refocusing his thoughts. “She’s the quiet one, right? The bookworm?”

“Well, she used to be. Then she got a boyfriend, stopped dressing like a Sears poster child, stole my boyfriend and became a witch. Not exactly your typical bookworm.”

Doyle sat on the chair, propping his feet up on the edge of her desk.  “She cute?”

“She has her moments. You really think someone who wasn’t good looking could have stolen Xander away from me? Not that her looks are better than mine,” she went on. “They’d been friends since the dawn of time, she had the edge.”

“They still together?”

Cordelia shook her head. “They never were, except for the little fling they had. She went back to her boyfriend and Xander and I started dismembering each other…verbally.”

“And the boyfriend?” Doyle’s voice was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. She was doing this on purpose, he was sure of it. Maybe she did have an emotion or two for him buried deep beneath all the hostility. “They still together?”

“I don’t think so. You’ve met him, you know. Oz.”

“The werewolf?” His voice rose an octave. “You could have mentioned that!”

“Why?” Cordelia’s look was all innocence. “Did you have plans to seduce our little Willow?”

“Seduce?” Another octave. “I just thought the girl sounded interesting. “I tell ya, how does a man get rid of such a vile reputation as the one I’ve got?”

“Stop being a lazy, cheating, gambling, whoring half demon?” Cordelia suggested.

“Right. Like that’s gonna happen.” Doyle dropped his feet to the floor. “Where’s Angel?”

“Downstairs. Moping. Brooding. Something that ends with an –ing.”

“Fine. I’ll be there then.”

“Fantasize…” Cordelia smirked at him, her eyes alight with humor.  “Ing?”

**

Angel looked up as the gate to the elevator opened. Doyle walked in, settling into the seat across the table from him. “All right, I need some help here.”

“I don’t know where you can find x-ray glasses to look through Cordelia’s clothing.”

Doyle pursed his lips as Angel turned back to his book. “Very funny.  But I’m serious, man. I need some advice.”

“Just ask her.”

“Damn it, it’s not about Cordelia.”

Angel looked up, curiosity piqued. “It’s not?” When Doyle shook his head, he put the book down. “But it’s about a girl?”

“Yah.”

“Do I know this girl?”

“So I’ve heard.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “Kate?”

“Good lord, no! That woman would chew me up and spit me out! I…it’s…”

“It’s Willow,” Cordelia offered from the stairs. “He’s heard her bewitching voice and now he’s smitten.”

“I’m not smitten,” Doyle scoffed. “I’m just curious about people I don’t know.”

“Usually only if they owe you money,” Angel reminded him. “So, Willow, huh? And you’re meeting her this weekend. And Xander. You’ll meet Xander. I wonder what kind of lovely nicknames he’ll come up with for you.”

“Yeah, Xander’s kind of particular about his best friends dating people who aren’t entirely human. Although he’s dating a girl who used to be a demon with a bad complexion, so I don’t think he should have a say.”

“You really shouldn’t talk bad about yourself,” Doyle threw in, watching in delight as Cordelia got angry. Her face flushed and she turned away, stomping back up the stairs in her new sandals. “She’s really almost too easy a target.”

“Almost.” Angel nodded. He leaned back in his chair, watching Doyle. “Willow’s nice. She’s a great girl…woman, I suppose. But she’s also…she’s not worldly, whatever Cordelia may have said about what happened in high school. She’s not in your league, Doyle.”

“I just thought she sounded nice.” He got up from the chair and went to the elevator. “I’ve got no designs on the girl.”

Angel watched him go, a small smile on his lips. “Right. I believe you.”

**

Willow opened the door of Giles’ apartment and grinned widely.  “Cordelia!” She hugged the other girl. “You must be tired from the drive. I made Giles buy something other than tea. Thirsty?”

“Yeah.” Cordelia looked past Willow. “Xander here?”

“In the kitchen, where else?” She grinned. “Help yourself. Buffy and Giles are out buying some weapons, they’ll be back in a while.”

“Oz here?”

Willow’s face fell slightly. “No. Oz left.” She stepped back to let Cordelia in and noticed the dark haired man standing behind her. “You must be Doyle. Since you’re with Cordelia.”

“At yer service.” He tipped his head, his blue eyes locked on her green ones. “You look like ye belong at home. Nestled near the hearth telling fairy tales.”

“Leprechauns and fairies?” Willow smiled. “I’m afraid I’m Jewish, not Irish.”

Without thinking, Doyle reached out and took her chin in his hand, tilting her head, rubbing the silky skin with his thumb. “Your skin’s like cream.”

Willow reached up and placed her hand on his arm, staring into his eyes. Shock waves seemed to rocket through her at his touch, overwhelming her. She tilted her head, curious at the sensation. He met her gaze, not wanting or willing to look away. Willow leaned forward, moving closer to him, her body swaying forward as if in response to some call. She was about to say something when suddenly, Doyle fell forward, dragging her down with him. She rolled away, desperate to get clear of him as he thrashed on the floor.

Cordelia grabbed her and pulled her away from Doyle. Breaking free of her grasp, Willow moved back in and caught his arm, holding him as he writhed. Finally, he lay still, his eyes closed as his breathing slowed back to normal.

“You make quite an entrance,” she said softly.

“Scotch? Whiskey? Vodka?” He asked, struggling to sit up.

Willow looked back and Cordelia was already there with a glass of amber liquid. “Careful. Giles has the good stuff.”

Doyle tossed it back, coughing as it burned. “Not good enough.” He took the paper Cordelia held out to him. Scribbling on it quickly, he handed it back. “Call him. I guess we’re heading back home.”

“You just got here,” Willow said sadly. “Something big?”

He nodded. “But that’s not all.” Wide green eyes met his, sending a wave of heat through him. “You need to come too.”

“To LA?”

“You were in the vision too, Doll. You’re essential.”

“I don’t like being essential. I like being needed but not necessary. Please?”

“Pack a bag.” He tried to smile, sensing the fear in her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Neither will Angel,” Cordelia reminded them both. “You’ll be fine Willow. And if you don’t mind a ghost, you can stay with me.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Let me tell Xander, pack some clothes and we’ll go. Probably don’t want to tell Buffy or Giles until after the fact. They might not agree to let me go.” She grinned ruefully.  “They’re a little overprotective.”

“Right. We’ll call ‘em on the road. Cordy? You stay here while I go with her to get her things? Spend some time with Xander?”

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. “Right.” Waiting until Willow moved away to get her purse, Cordelia lowered her voice. “Just remember she doesn’t know what you are. And I do.”

“And what would telling her accomplish?”

“Just quit with the Xander cracks, okay?”

Doyle nodded, smiling thinly. “You must still quite like him if they bother you.”

“Hey Willow,” Cordelia said loudly, “Did you know Doyle is half demon?”

**

The ride to Willow’s dorm was silent, save for her instructions. Doyle stared straight ahead, not wanting to see her face. When he pulled in front of her house, she turned to him. “It’s okay.”

“What?”

“I don’t care.”

He looked at her. “Don’t care about what?”

Willow held up her hand and raised a finger for each sentence.  “Point. My last boyfriend was a werewolf. Point. My best friend’s boyfriend was one of the most vicious killers of all time. Point. My other best friend is dating a woman who used to avenge women who had been wronged. So, meeting a half demon doesn’t bother me.”

“You ever seen a half demon?”

She shook her head. “Nope. A couple of full demons, a lot of vampires, a Hellmouth, a werewolf, and a few other big bad things, but not a half-demon.”

He smiled, his irritation draining away. “You’re a nice person.”

“Yeah. It’s my curse.” She nodded. “I’m doomed.”

A brief flash of his vision clouded his mind. “Go get your things, Doll. I’ll wait for you here.”

**

“So, we’re going to need a witch,” Doyle finished summarizing what he remembered of his vision. “It’s a pretty powerful coven, but with Angel’s history with spells and you’re power…You’re quite likely to do us a good turn.”

“I should warn you that not all of my spells go the way I plan them. I sort of…” Willow looked away, flushing with embarrassment. “I sort of have a friend who is still a rat. I can’t quite get her de-ratted. I’m afraid she’s going to be really mad at me when I do.”

“Amy’s still a rat?” Cordelia asked from the driver’s seat. “Wow. I hope she likes cheese.”

Doyle placed his hand on Willow’s, giving Cordelia a dirty look in the rear view mirror. “Don’t worry about it, Doll. I doubt there will be any rat issues comin’ up.”

She smiled, a small laugh sneaking out. Tilting her head, Willow looked intently at Doyle. “You’re not what I expected from Cordelia’s emails.”

“She talked about me?” Doyle raised his eyebrows. “And I didn’t think she cared.” He ignored the look Cordelia sent him in the mirror, instead focusing on Willow. “What did you expect?”

“Well, I thought you might be more of a jerk. She said you were a lot like Xander on his worst days.” Willow smiled more widely. “Of course, our opinions of Xander’s worst days are a little different. To me, they’re whenever I would walk on them kissing. To her, I think I’m more in the culprit spot.”

“Oh no. I’m completely over that,” Cordelia stated. “Xander’s worst days are more along the lines of when he would make jokes about everything, especially when you were trying to have a serious conversation with him."

Willow shrugged and nodded. “Okay, we do have the same opinion of Xander’s worst days.” Looking back at Doyle, she reached over and touched his hand. “So far, you’ve completely blown my preconceived notions out of the water.”

He turned his hand over so that her fingers grazed his palm. As she touched him, soft and simple, a flash of pain slammed through Doyle, accompanying another vision. He jerked back, slamming his head into the window. He cried out and slumped down into his seat.

“Grab the bottle under the front seat,” Cordelia said tersely. “Quick. He’s going to need it.”

Willow did as she asked, watching helplessly as Doyle continued to suffer. “Do they always come like this?”

“Not so often usually. Something big must be brewing down in LA. Got your seatbelt on?” Cordelia didn’t even wait for Willow to answer before she pressed her foot hard on the gas. Doyle groaned, as he was slammed forward into her seat, ending up hunched between the two seats.

“Christ, Cordelia. I’m sufferin’ enough, ain’t I?” He struggled his way back up onto the seat and took the bottle from Willow’s outstretched hand. Cracking the seal on it, he swallowed half of it, grimacing all the while. “This is the last time I let Angel buy the booze. He’s got no taste.”

“What did you see?”

“Just a little more detail. We need to get home, right away.” He watched Willow out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he was doing the right thing. “Hey Red?”

“Yes?”

Doyle lowered his voice. “We need to talk. I haven’t been…completely honest.”

“Now?”

“As soon as we get to the office.” He managed a weak smile. “You might want a little privacy.”

**

Angel was standing in the doorway when Doyle’s car squealed to stop in front of the building. Willow and Doyle climbed out and Cordelia took off again. “You let her drive your car?”

“I needed to tell Willow a bit about what was going on.” He shrugged. “She was good, for the most part. And by the time she wasn’t, she wasn’t at my request.”

Angel nodded and turned his attention to Willow. “Hello.”

“Hi Angel.” She stepped forward and hugged him shyly. He stood still for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and hugging her in return. Pulling back, she grinned. “Do you have a restroom?”

“Right this way,” he said with a laugh. He guided her through the office and down into his apartment, noting with amusement that Doyle was right on her heels. When Willow closed the door behind her, Doyle grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

“We’re in trouble, Boss.”

“What?” Angel’s amusement faded immediately. “What’s the problem?”

“Her.” Doyle gestured back to the bathroom. “She was in the vision I had in Sunnydale, and I promise it wasn’t the kind of vision I wanted to have with her in it.” He sank down on a chair. “She’s in danger.”

“Then why bring her here?”

“Because we need her help.”

“Is helping us putting her in danger?” Angel’s voice lowered.

“No. Well, yes and no. There’s a coven of witches, working some bad mojo. They’re looking to do some serious damage. If we defeat them now, she’ll be in a bit of danger helping us fight them. But if she’s not here, they’re gonna win their fight with us and go after her. And then she’ll have no one to help her.”

“So this is the lesser of two evils?” Angel nodded. “Did you tell her any of this?”

Doyle looked sheepish. “Nah.”

“Doyle.”

“It’s okay,” Willow said from the hallway. “I kind of suspected I was the key to all of this.” She walked in and sat between them. “Buffy’s been having dreams too. They’re vague right now, but every time she wakes up, she comes over and makes sure I’m okay. I thought I might be headed for trouble.”

“I’m sorry, Willow.”

She smiled her thanks at Angel. “It’s okay. I’m hoping that I can help and not just get captured or something.”

“So, she’s staying here?” Angel asked Doyle.

Doyle tried to suppress the unexpected surge of jealousy that flared up in him. The thought of Willow, alone here with Angel…hell, alone with anyone filled him with annoyance. “I…I suppose. This place is as secure as any.”

“Actually,” Angel gave him a small smile, almost as if he could read Doyle’s thoughts. “With the sewer entrance and the office being open all day, it might be better if she stayed somewhere a little more secure.” Smiling even more at Doyle’s hopeful look, he went on. “Although at your place, she would be at risk of every bill collector and every thug or goon sent to squeeze a little money out of everyone’s favorite debtor.”

“Hey! I’ve got most of the money I owe paid back.”

“But at Cordelia’s she doesn’t have anyone to watch over her, except a completely cowed ghost. What if you and she both stay at Cordelia’s? I kind of like the thought of you having a chaperone.”

“Me or him?” Willow asked.

Angel grimaced, having forgotten Willow was in the room. “Him. You, I trust.”

“Won’t Cordy mind?”

“I’ll ask her sweetly,” Doyle muttered, getting out of his chair and heading up the stairs. Angel watched him go with an amused grin.

“You like torturing him.”

“It’s a good kind of torture,” Angel said softly, wondering if he was doing the right thing, allowing Doyle to spend time alone with Willow.

“He’s a good friend?”

“About what I deserve,” Angel admitted. He turned his gaze to Willow.  “How is she?”

“Surviving. Getting better. There are days…well, every day I’ll look over and see a sadness in her eyes, but it doesn’t hold her down like it used to. She’ll never be over you, but she’s trying hard to move on.”

“Good,” he sighed. “I…”

“I know. She still loves you too.” Willow stood up and looked around.  “This is nice. Dark, but nice. I guess dark is nice for you.” Taking a deep breath, she faced him. “What…is Doyle okay? Someone I can trust through all this?”

“Yeah,” Angel didn’t pause.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Good.”

“I wouldn’t trust you with anyone I didn’t trust implicitly.”

“Thanks Angel.”

Doyle smiled to himself as he crept up the last few stairs to actually complete his mission and talk to Cordelia. Angel trusted him, which meant Willow did. And if she could trust the vampire that had once held her lovely neck up to his fangs, well…odds were good that she could trust a half demon with less than completely honorable intentions.

**

“I can’t believe you have to stay at my apartment,” Cordelia groaned. “You’re a slob.”

“I am not! I’ve got a perfectly neat apartment. Besides, you forget I saw where you lived before this, ducks.”

“Right.” Cordelia snapped her mouth closed, effectively killing the subject. “So, Willow, I guess you can sleep in the spare bedroom and Doyle can sleep on the couch. But tonight, you guys are on your own. I have a date and I’m not going to break it just to baby-sit.”

“Don’t worry, Cordy, I can take care of her.”

“I can take good care of myself,” Willow reminded him. And herself, her mind whispered. “And you should have fun on your date, Cordelia. I’ve got a spell or two up my sleeve if Doyle gets out of hand.”

Cordelia smiled and pulled into her parking spot. “Okay, here are the keys. I’m so late, so you’re going to have to let yourselves in. And remember, don’t invite any vampires in, it’s tough to get the dust out of the carpet. And Dennis doesn’t vacuum.”

“Dennis?” Willow asked.

“My ghost roommate. I mentioned him.”

“Right.” Willow nodded and climbed out of the car. “We’ll see you later.”

Doyle took the keys from her hand and led her to Cordelia’s apartment. Swinging the door open for her, he took her bag and guided the way to the guest bedroom. “This was Dennis’ room, but I’m sure if we ask nicely, he’ll close his eyes when you’re changin’.”

“Dennis is nice, right?”

“Oh sure. The boy’s as whipped as can be. Cowed by his Ma and then Cordelia. You barely even have to raise your voice.” He sat down on the side of the bed. “So, Red. What say you and I do a little brainstorming and see if we can come up with a plan?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you saw?” Willow sat next to him, her hand brushing his. “In your vision.”

Doyle stood up immediately, pacing the small room. “They’re not visions so much as flashes of information. Faces, names, places. It’s like a download of nouns. There’s never any real insight as to what’s going wrong or what’s going to happen. It’s just…it’s nothing much, especially for all the pain that come along with ‘em.”

“What did you see this time?”

“You,” he admitted.

“Just me?” Willow tilted her head, smiling slightly. “Me in danger? Me kicking demon ass? Me…”

“Well, I’d like to say it was you in sexy lingerie, but I’m never that lucky.”

Willow blushed and looked away from him. “Well, as I don’t actually own anything that could be construed as sexy lingerie, I think that’s a good thing. So, what was I doing?”

“Dying.”

“Oh.” Her voice seemed small, even to her own ears.

“I saw you, bleeding…cut open. Then I saw a gathering of faces, dark and foreboding, I guess you could say. Then I saw a nightclub and a symbol.”

“A symbol?”

He pulled a small book out of his pocket. “I nabbed this from Angel’s.  I doubt he’ll miss it until I tell him about it tomorrow, but I thought there was no point in us sitting around doing nothing tonight.” He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he wanted. Handing it to her, he watched her eyes as she looked at the picture then read the caption.

“That doesn’t bode well, does it?”

“It means sacrifice.”

“I read that.”

“It means a blood debt.” Doyle took the book from her trembling hands.  “It means that someone thinks you owe your life for a promise you or one of your ancestors made. It means…”

“It means I’m going to die.”

Doyle set the book on the bed and knelt before her. “Nah, Red. It doesn’t mean that. It just means that we need to figure out what’s going on and do what we can to fix it.” He took her hands and looked up into her green eyes. “It’s a coven of renegade witches, delving into sorcery more powerful than your average Wicca. It’s…”

“How do you know that if all you saw was their faces?”

“Well, that sort of brings us to the reason I know about the symbol as well. One of the faces…one of the people after you, is ah…sort of an ex-girlfriend of mine. I sort of made her a promise that I didn’t keep and I had to face this thing too.”

“But you’re alive.”

“Yah. But you don’t want to know…well; let’s just say they got their blood. Only the fact that I’m part demon saved me. And since you,” he reached out and touched her cheek, brushing his thumb along the creamy skin. “Are most definitely all human, I’d rather they didn’t take their pound of flesh…or internal organs in this case.”

“Do you think your ex-girlfriend would tell you why they were after me?”

“Probably, but I doubt I could get the information back to you after she cut off my head, which she’s likely to do if she sees me again.”

“Oh.”

“But we do have an advantage.”

“We do?” Willow looked skeptical. “Other than the fact that you still have a head?”

“Yeah. You see, you’re a witch. The power you’ve got…it radiates off you, especially to a non-human entity. Not like a beacon or anything, more like an aura. We’re gonna put you in a situation where they can see that. That’s going to make them think twice, wonder if they can get you to settle the promise or, if not that, come over to their side. Which is where the nightclub comes in.”

“The nightclub?”

“From my vision.”

“Right.” Willow nodded. “Am I supposed to be following all of this?”

“The nightclub is their hangout. It’s where they go for new recruits, using their power to sway women to their side and wield their power over men. It’s sort of like a haven for sexual brokering. They’ve got the power and they use it, ya know what I mean?”

“Not at all.”

Doyle sighed. “Red, you’re gorgeous, but this innocent act can be a bitch.”

“It’s not an act.”

“That’s why it’s a bitch.” He got to his feet and left the room. Willow followed him after a few minutes. He was staring into the fireplace. When she was about to touch him, he turned. “All women have power. With men, the power usually manifests itself in the ability to arouse us, turn us on. You just move or talk or touch and we’re helpless as a newborn. You’ve got it in spades, simply because you’re so unaware of it.”

The hand she had outstretched to touch his shoulder before he turned fell to her side. “So I go to this nightclub and act oblivious to the fact that men want me and they come after me trying to capture me or convert me?”

“Well, that would be convenient, but I don’t think it’s quite right.” He moved away from her, sitting on the couch. “You see, the innocent thing only works on men. Women think you’re going for the cheap score. So you’re going to have to come across as someone who knows she’s got the power and ain’t afraid to use it.”

“And so we’re going to find someone else to play my part?”

“You mean to tell me,” Doyle leaned forward. “That you have no idea that you’re beautiful? You’ve got no clue that you’re sexy? You’re completely oblivious to the fact that men stare after you when you walk by?”

Willow blushed and shook her head. “The only guy that ever looked at me was Oz. Well, and Xander for a little while, but no one else.”

“Then you’re as blind as you think they are,” Doyle stated strongly. “All right, if you can’t find your own confidence, we’ll make you up a batch.”

“What?”

He stood and took her arm, guiding her to the guestroom. “Nothing. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Get a good night’s sleep.” He looked around the room sternly. “And Dennis? No peeking.”

Shutting the door behind him, Doyle leaned against it, forcing his breathing to slow. Touching her, thinking about her all dressed up and actually, deliberately trying to seduce someone had elevated his blood pressure and sent the demon in his blood racing through his veins.

This little witch was going to be far more dangerous to him than any coven of witches were likely to be to her.


CONTINUE