Title: Cute Witch Seeks Demon Detective

Name: Bitch Willow

Email Address: bitch_willow@willowymail.zzn.com

Rating: PG-13, let’s say

Classification: General Willow fic, but it’s a Willow/Doyle

Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone from BTVS or Angel: The Series. I just use them for my twisted pleasure.

Summary: Willow comes to town to help Angel, but as she and Doyle meet, they realize they have something in common.

Author’s Notes: Takes place after The Iniative and The Bachelor Party, except Doyle never had a vision about Buffy. Also, Heroes made me sad, so in my world, Doyle lives!

< Brood brood brood. That’s all I ever do. Soon enough I’m gonna turn into the boss man. > Doyle mock-shuddered but couldn’t resist a laugh. Cordelia, who was sitting in the chair opposite him, sat up.

"What is it? Are you having another vision?" She sounded hopeful, and Doyle swatted at her in fond annoyance.

"No, Princess. Why? Are you needin’ another pair a’ those ankle-breakers you call shoes?"

Cordy gasped. "You joked. As in, didn’t just blow it off to go brood in a dark room. Angel, he’s cured!"

Doyle rolled his eyes and sighed as Angel came to stand in the doorway. "What?"

"You can take back your place as Most Depressing Black-clad Warrior of the Night. Doyle made a joke. I’d say he’s on the road to recovery."

Angel smiled slightly, turning expectantly to the half-demon. "Is this true?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I’m gonna try and get over it. Me and Harie just weren’t meant to be. And we’ve been apart for four years, anyway. Time to move on." He nudged Cordelia. "Wanna go out later, beautiful?"

She scoffed. "Sure. And then when I return you to your reality, you can say hello to evil Willow for me."

"What?"

Cordelia’s large brown eyes widened and she smirked. "I was making a joke. About how things must be different in your reality if you actually expected me to go out with you," she prompted. "If you’re not even gonna counter my witty quips, then I am just wasted."

an alternate reality where Buffy never came to Sunnydale. Me and Xander were vampires, and after our dimension was restored, the other dimension lived on. Vampire me ended up paying a visit to Sunnydale and basically wreaked havoc on town, until we sent her back in a burst of light. Hi Angel."

The vampire stood, his face honestly happy for the first time Doyle could remember. "Willow?" The redhead in the doorway grinned, holding out her arms for a hug. Angel swept her up in his arms. "God, what are you doing here?"

Willow disengaged herself and put on her serious face. "Business. There’s a demon heading over here. Big, bad one. So, Giles and the gang sent me over here to help."

"But what about college?" Cordelia was gaping at the other girl, and with good reason. Her very red hair was shorter than ever, cut at just about chin level, and she was wearing black leather pants with a tight, bright pink shirt that had gold flames on the long sleeves. "And are you sure you’re not evil Willow?"

She grinned. "Yep. See? Pulse." She lifted Angel’s hand to her neck and he confirmed it with a nod. "And, well…I sort of needed a break from Sunnydale."

"Why, what happened?" Angel seemed concerned. Willow flinched visibly, and Doyle spoke up to save the pretty redhead from having to talk about what she was obviously trying to avoid thinking about.

"Anyone gonna introduce me?" He stood up, immediately reaching out to shake Willow’s hand. She managed a small grin at him, and he was dazzled by her sweet prettiness.

"Hi, I’m Willow. And you are?"

"Doyle’s what they call me. So, you’re a native Sunnydalian. One of the ‘Scooby Gang,’ right?" She nodded, and Doyle turned to Angel with a mock-pained face. "So, how come you never told me Willow was such a cutie?"

Cordy sighed in exasperation and hit him on the arm. "It’s a no-go, slacker. She’s dating Oz."

"Oz?" To Doyle’s surprise, he actually felt disappointed. The redhead had some fire in her if she had the balls to hug a vampire, and she was cute as a button to boot.

"Werewolf. You know, the kind that like to shred people to bits?" Cordelia was leaning forward, smiling sweetly, and Doyle couldn’t help but wonder if she was jealous.

"Actually, we’re not…together anymore," Willow spoke up softly. She was biting her lip, and her brown eyes were glistening slightly.

The other girl actually looked shocked and sympathetic. "What happened?"

Willow shrugged. "He decided to see other werewolves."

Angel nodded. "Oh…"

"He didn’t actually tell me before he decided that, though." Her laugh was humorless, and Cordelia stood up and embraced the other girl.

"I’m so sorry, Will. I know there’s been…stuff between us, but you didn’t deserve this. No matter what things to the contrary I may have said last year."

Willow laughed softly and stepped away. "Thanks. But we have business stuff to do."

"Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it? Cause I can tell you some of the things I did to get over Xander. It involves small fires and any possesions he may have accidently left at your place," Cordelia offered.

"No, we have to look up this demon right now." A contemplating look came over her face. "Later, though…definately."

Cordelia grinned.

* * *

Doyle looked up from his newspaper. Yep, she was still sleeping. And biting her lip slightly, like a child.

What a little cutie.

Angel had insisted that Willow stay with him while she was in town, despite the pain he must have felt from the association. He had deliberatly not asked about Buffy, but Doyle had seen Willow whispering in his ear and touching his arm sympathetically earlier, so it must have come up. Angel seemed happier, now that she was there.

But, he’d gone out to look for the demon, a soul-devourer in the form of a young man. He seemed to prefer twenty-somethings for some reason, so he’d hit the Sunnydale University Campus, then come to LA. Angel was searching the clubs for anyone who seemed soulless. Hell, that described half the citizens of LA.

So, since Cordy had gone home "for her ten required hours of beauty sleep, thank you!" Willow and Doyle had stayed up, looking through newspapers and searching online for any bodies with the heart and brain missing. Apparently, to devour souls it took a heart entrée with some brain on the side.

Only, Willow had fallen asleep about half an hour ago, and Doyle just couldn’t bring himself to wake her.

He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. "Oh, you’re goin’ soft in your old age, man."

"I’d agree."

Doyle spun his chair around as a smug-sounding voice spoke up behind him. Sure enough, Angel was standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face. The half-demon sputtered.

"Watch it, man! I mean, I appreciate stealth as much as the next guy constantly in peril, but come on. A little warning next time?" he asked, looking up at the vampire.

Angel just nodded, still grinning, and Doyle sighed. "So, how long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you stare at her for about ten minutes, then go back to your paper, then…"

"Okay, okay. I get it," Doyle complained. He stood up, stretching out his worn back muscles. "I was just makin’ sure she was safe. You know, lookin’ out for her like I knew you’d want me to."

Angel wasn’t buying it. "Uh-huh." He went over and swept the tiny redhead up in his arms. She didn’t wake up, but twitched a little in her sleep.

"Oz…" Her fuzzy voice was full of pain, and Doyle looked at the poor kid with unabashed sympathy.

"Guess she’s goin’ through some things, eh?" He could empathize. Just remembering that guy Harrie had been about to wed…it set his blood to boiling.

Angel began to carry Willow into his room, but he spoke over his shoulder to Doyle. "Oh yeah. She’s been through a lot in her life, and she’s just a little girl."

"Shes in college, man. She ain’t a little girl."

A strained expression came over Angel’s face as he set the girl on his bed. When he turned back to Doyle, he sighed, like any good brooding guy would do. "I guess I just want to protect her. She’s my friend, but she just seems so innocent…she’s the most childlike one in the group, and I guess we’d all like to keep her that way."

Well. Doyle shook his head, looking over at Angel with as much understanding in his green eyes as he could muster. "You ever think that maybe that’s a bit unfair to her, bud? That maybe she should have a chance to grow up without all of you forcing innocence down her throat?"

Once Willow was completely on the bed, Angel came back into what served as the living room. "Doyle, what’s your deal with this? You barely even know her. Maybe she likes being innocent."

"Does a wanna-be innocent how up wearin’ leather pants, with her hair all flame-red? I think you’re just ignoring the signs."

The vampire looked pissed for a second, then paused. "Are you just saying this because you want to date her, but you think she’s too young for you?"

Oh. Um…uh-oh. Doyle blushed, and with his fair Irish skin… "N—no, man. Why d’you think that?"

"Because you’ve been staring at her all night, and you’re both single, legal adults." Angel sounded amused.

The half-demon shook his head. "Look, Angel. I appreciate your…whatever this is, but I just got divorced, and she’s still getting’ over whatever happened with that Oz guy I didn’t really like, even when I met him and didn’t know he was a cheating, lying little werewolf. And yeah, I’ll admit it—she’s a cute little thing. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna try and start something. Not when she’s vulnerable and hurt."

Angel shrugged. "Too bad. I was thinking you’d be good for her." With that he walked into the kitchen, leaving Doyle to stare after him in a daze.

He stood there for a few seconds, and if there had been a mirror around, he’d have laughed at his expression—he was in pure, stunned silence. After a while, he followed the other man into the kitchen.

"Did you just say…what I think you said?"

Angel shrugged, his head still in the fridge. "Yeah. You both just got out of relationships, she’s a sweet, innocent girl, and you’re a nice, solid guy who’d never break someone’s heart on purpose. You know what it’s like to have your heart broken, and so does she." He closed the fridge, popping the bag full of blood he’d grabbed into the mircowave. "Maybe you can help each other heal."

Doyle felt a slow smile slide over his face. "So, if I asked her out, you wouldn’t slit my throat or nothin’?"

Chuckling, Angel retrieved his dinner from the beeping microwave. "No. As long as you’re not just asking her because Cordy turned you down, or because you’re hurt?" He looked at Doyle questioningly.

He sputtered, indignant. "What do you take me for? My mother raised me right, bud—I’d never use anyone like that. I like her, as high school as that sounds. She’s adorable, and funny, and smart, and—"

"I get it."

"But it’s not about me. It’s about whether she’s ready to date or not. It’s about whether she wants to date me or not."

Angel moved past him, into the living room. "Then I guess it is about you."

Doyle shrugged and sat across from his undead employer. "So, you’re her friend. You wanna talk to her for me?"

Brown eyes widened. "No. If you like her, you set it up. I’m not helping you. And…" Angel trailed off, his eyes falling to the full bag of blood cooling in his hands.

"And what?" Doyle prompted him.

Angel looked up at his friend, pursing his lips. "Like might not be enough. She was in love with Oz, and she’s getting through that. She needs someone who can support her. High school’s over. Time to make with the grown up talk." He echoed Doyle’s earlier words, hoping it would make some impact on the younger man.

Apparently it had. Doyle sat there and stared into space, and for the first time in a long time, Angel wished he could was a movie vampire. Then he’d be able to read what was on his friend’s mind.

* * *

Willow awoke with a yawn, not knowing where she was or why. < Okay, I’m in a bed… Oh!> She held a relieved hand to her heart to still it’s overactive beating. "Angel’s," she murmured. "Then where did he sleep?"

She got up and stretched, surprised at how uncomfortable leather pants were to sleep in. <Now, where’s my bag? > she wondered, looking around the surprisingly small bedroom. But then, Angel was a vampire. He probably didn’t spend much time in the bedroom. Especially since he couldn’t… She felt a wave of sadness roll over her for him and Buffy.

She walked into the living room and saw Angel, asleep on the couch. Shaking her head fondly, Willow grinned. < Just like him to give up his bed for me to sleep in. Perfect gentleman. > She spied her bag in the corner and grabbed it. "Now all I need is a place to change. Dammit Angel, don’t you have a bathroom?" she bitched to empty air.

"Not down here he doesn’t." Well, apparently not quite to empty air. Doyle was standing in the kitchen with a glass in his hand.

Willow smiled at him. "Hi Doyle. What are you doin’ here?"

He shrugged. "Had a vision. Thought I’d inform my boss, but he’s currently sleeping."

A groan arose from the lump on the couch. "No, he’s not," Angel mumbled.

"Yes he is," Willow threw back. "Go back to sleep, Angel. It’s daytime, you can’t doing anything about Doyle’s—" She turned Doyle with a confused look on her face. "You have visions?"

Doyle bowed modestly. "That’s right. Visions, world-saveage, and I’m still a bachelor. Now how’d that happen?"

She giggled, then turned around to hear Angel speak up from the couch, "You’ve been divorced, Doyle. I don’t think you can really be considered a ‘bachelor’ anymore."

"Can we not talk about that?" Doyle seemed pained, and as Willow watched he took another swig of whatever was in the glass.

"You’ve been divorced? I’m sorry. I know…I know how hard it is to split with someone you thought you’d spend your life with." < Oz. > His face whispered through her mind.

There was an uneasy quiet as each pondered their failed relationships, then Angel broke the silence. "So, you had a vision?" He got up off the couch, adjusting his helter-skelter clothing and running a hand through his messy hair.

"What? Um, yeah," Doyle replied, pouring his drink down the sink with a sigh and reaching for a cup. "I’m gonna get some coffee, anyone want some?"

"Yeah, let’s head up to the office. I’m just going to get dressed." Angel headed into his bedroom, and Doyle turned to the redhead inquisitively.

She smiled. "Could you show me the bathroom, so I can change?"

He returned the easy grin, then held out his arm to take. "It’d be a pleasure."

They headed over to the elevator and got in. "So, why doesn’t he have a bathroom?"

* * *

Doyle stood near the coffee maker, trying to look casual. < Dammit, why am I so nervous? >

"Oh, new clothes," Willow’s chirpy voice crowed from the bathroom. As she stepped out she stretched, showing a minimal amount of pale stomach. "I’d forgotten how binding leather can be."

She was wearing another long-sleeved shirt, this time a bright turquoise, and dark jeans, but Doyle found her just as compelling as he had the day before.

"Ya look nice," he threw out, hoping she wouldn’t completely freak at the idea of a twenty-six year old man hitting on her.

All she did was smile sweetly, her cheeks glowing pinkly. "Thank you."

"Hope I’m not interrupting anything." Cordelia’s amused voice cut into the silence as she walked over to the coffee machine. "Are you going to stand there all day, or get me some coffee?" she asked sweetly, threatening him with her eyes.

Doyle held his hands up in defense. "All right, Princess. Hold on a mo’." He poured a cup of the truly putrid coffee for Cordelia. "There, ya happy?"

"Abundantly." She sipped the black liquid with a grimace. "Um-um ugh."

Willow’s eyes widened. "I’ll just go get myself some water," she offered, quickly running over to the elevator. She passed Angel, who got out of it as she prepared to go up.

The vampire was still fairly incoherent. "Where’s Willow going?" he asked fuzzily, grabbing his mug to get coffee.

"To get water. Now, Doyle had a vision?" Cordelia asked.

Angel turned to her strangely. "How’d you know?"

Cordy rolled her eyes. "Cause otherwise he wouldn’t have called me so early in the morning. It usually means death," she emnphasized, glaring daggers at the unthreatened Irishman, "but I figured I’d make an exception, in case the world’s about to end or something. Donut?"

Doyle grinned and took a chocolate donut. Angel rolled his eyes. "I don’t eat," he reminded her when she looked offended.

"Oh. Well, you could at least take one to be polite."

The elevator hit the top floor with a clang, and everyone looked up as Willow stepped out of it. "Okay, I’m all hydrated now. So, vision?"

"Donut?" Cordelia offered. Willow took a pink one. "Okay, let’s get down to business." She sat, queenlike, on the nearest chair, then blushed as Angel threw a look at her. "Or, you know. Our boss could motivate us to. Whatever."

Angel leaned against his desk. "So, what was your vision about?"

Doyle shook his head, still a bit woozy from the pain of his vision, although it had come to him earlier in the morning. "Dunno, man. It was a club. And a girl. Sort of pretty, name of Karen."

Cordelia was writing it all on her notepad. "Okay. What club?"

He strained to remember, wrinkling his forehead and grimacing. "Um…Selius. Popular type of place, but…"

"What?" Willow tried her best to seem unconcerned.

Doyle continued. "It caters to a different sort of crowd."

"Different how?" Angel narrowed his eyes.

"Like, for demons and stuff. Witches, vampires, werewolv—" Doyle cut himself off. "Uh, cratures of the night," he edited, stealing a glance at Willow to see how she’d reacted to his slip of the tongue.

A wave of pain had wracked her, but she’d covered it quickly and well. "So, what do we do? How do we get in?"

Angel took over. "Me, Willow, and Doyle will get in, find this guy. We know what he looks like, right?"

Willow nodded. "Yep. Saw him."

"Me too." Doyle shivered as the memory of the killer’s demon-face washed over him. "Not the prettiest man in town."

"Wait, if this place only lets in, like, monsters and stuff, how will Willow and Doyle get in?" Cordy looked puzzled.

Willow had a similar look on her face, and the two men groped for an explanation. "Well," Angel finally interjected, "Willow’s a witch, so that should get her in…"

"And, uh, I can just be a human friend, lookin’ to check around. A buddy of Angelus’, I suppose."

Cordy crossed her arms, a set look coming over her face. "So why can’t I go?"

Angel and Doyle exchanged glances again. "Well…" Angel continued finally, "Willow can take care of herself, and no one would bother to hurt her because she’s a witch. And Doyle…"

"Well, I’ll be Angel’s friend, so no one’ll try to get in my way. Less they want this here vampire at their throat." Doyle pointed to Angel, pleased with his explanation.

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed, and Doyle was reminded of a tigress he’d seen on some nature show. He could almost hear the voice-over: "When the Cordelia narrows her eys in such a fashion, you know that those perfectly manicured nails are about to come out."

"So…I can’t take care of myself?"

Quiet descended over the small office, and Willow was barely containing her giggles.

"No, it’s not that…" Angel fumbled, then grabbed Cordelia by the arm and pulled her into the other room.

Willow and Doyle looked on in confusion. "What was that all about?"

* * *

Cordelia pulled her arm away from Angel’s grip with a glare. "You better have an explanation. These are not the caveman days, and although I realize that your roots are rural and Irish, I know that this wasn’t the tradition of the day—"

"Shh," he hissed. "Look, it’s not that you’re not fit to go. I worry about you less in battle than I do her." Cordelia’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened. "Because you’re stronger," he explained before she could interrupt.

"Then why is she going and I’m not?" she asked testily.

"I’m trying to get her and Doyle to maybe…" Angel trailed off. Cordelia instantly brightened.

"Oh! Well then, yay. I’m in."

"No! There’s nothing to be ‘in’ on. I’m letting them work this out on their own." Angel paused. "I thought that you were interested in him."

Cordelia shrugged. "Yeah, but him and Willow would be much better together. Besides, I don’t want to catch a guy while he’s rebounding. That would make me seem cheap and used, and I am not about to let any guy use me to get over his ex."

Angel nodded, and Cordy saw him roll his eyes. < Vampire. >

* * *

Doyle tapped his foot impatiently. < When are those two gonna get here. I’m gettin’ pissed. And bored. And— > He stopped thinking with an exhalation of breath.

Willow had just stepped out of Angel’s car. She was wearing a short leather jacket that barely covered the skin exposed by her short black dress. Even Angel was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her.

A grin lit up her face as she walked over to Doyle. "Hi Doyle."

"Oh—uh…um." Doyle searched for words to convey exactly what he was feeling, but as they all seemed to fall into the R-rated category, he decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

Willow giggled. "You like the dress? Buffy made me bring it."

The half-demon nodded. "Oh yeah, it’s…great." Willow smiled again and made her way towards the entrance. Angel followed along, shooting Doyle a knowing grin. "Shut up," he warned preemptively.

"I wasn’t going to say anything. Really."

"Sure you weren’t, Boss. Sure."

***

Once inside, Angel turned to them with a firm look on his face. "You two stick together. Don’t get seperated. If you see the guy, come find me. I’ll be chatting up the bartender." With that, he took off.

The air was suddenly thick, tense. Doyle held his breath in for a moment, then turned to the woman next to him. "So, what should we do, Red? You wanna dance?"

To his annoyance, Willow seemed like she could care less what they did next. She was glancing worriedly around the club, casting a few wide-eyed glances at the couples dancing very close together. Doyle only wished he could see what they were doing with their hands.

When Will finally turned to him, she has pasted a determined look on her face. She bit her lip and said, "What can we do that so that we’ll be able to see this guy if he comes in?"

He shrugged. "We could go to the bar and get a few drinks?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "You do like your liquor, don’t you? But no, Angel’s gonna be over there. It’d be kind of pointless."

Doyle grumbled exaggeratedly, exalting in the redhead’s melodious giggle. "We could dance?" he suggested again hopefully.

This time she actually heard him. she nodded thoughtfully. "Good idea."

Walking out onto the dance floor, he wondered suddenly if it was a good idea. Her, in very close proximity to him, with her beautiful…she took up the initiative, grabbing his hand and pulling him close to her. He decided that maybe it was a good idea after all.

Her brown eyes were closed, an easy grin on her expressive face. He ran his eyes over her, watching her hips move. Her eyes opened, and she shook her finger at him in good-natured annoyance.

"You’re supposed to be dancing, too? Remember?" Willow took his hand and pulled him closer to her, forcing him to move. Her thin-fingered, graceful hand was wrapped carefully around his, and he suddenly wondered why he had never noticed that she was taller than he was.

Doyle held the redhead closer, rolling his eyes at the song playing over the speakers. Bloody irony was a bitch. Willow looked happy though. But…shit.

He pulled away from her with a jerk, and her eyes snapped open wide, looking green in their shock and under the lights. He mumbled an apology, then turned her around so that she could see the attractive man entering through the door. He just screamed ‘demon.’ Not that that was a surprise, this being that kind of club, but still…he felt uneasy. Particularly when he felt Willow’s shoulders stiffening in his hands.

"That’s him," she whispered.

"Looks pretty harmless," he whispered back as an excuse to smell her short hair. She smelled like strawberries.

She shivered, but whether it was because of his breath in her ear or the man he couldn’t tell. But when she turned to face him, her eyes were serious. "I saw him tear a guy’s head off. He isn’t harmless."

"Agreed, but…" He did a double-take. "I thought that you said that he had to eat the heart and the brain to ingest souls."

"He does. That guy he killed wasn’t to feed. It was for…fun."

Doyle’s eyes widened, and he took her by the hand. "Lets find Angel, shall we?"

***

Angel was, as he’d said he would be, at the bar. "Look, can you just give me a little information on someone? Name of Steven. New demon on town."

The bartender laughed. "You kidding?! That’s nothing I’m gonna be telling you, uh..." The bartender turned around to face the other man.

A few seconds later, he wished he hadn’t. The vampire was snarling softly, leaning over the bar. "The name is Angelus."

The bartender shook. Angelus. He was legend. "I’ve heard of you. But…I mean this stuff, I can’t just give it away…"

Barely holding in a growl, Angel leaned over the bar once more. "Lets try this again," he said through clenched fangs. "I need some information. Demon named Steven, new guy in town. Soul-eater. Now, are you going to give me what I want, or am I going to have to rip your lungs out?"

The man (nearer a boy, actually, Angel noticed) was shaking his head. "No. I can’t tell you. He’ll…he’ll kill me."

"Not if I kill him first. Now," Angel smiled, all courtesy and dim threat, "are you going to tell me what I need, or…"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, the man gulped.

***

A smile broke out over her face, and it looked like a sunrise to Doyle. "Okay," she said sweetly. "I wouldn’t mind that."