Author: Kain

Title: New World Man

Disclaimer: Aside from a few Original Character's I created I own nothing. The character's of Buffy, Angel, and any other show that happens to be unforunate enough to wind up being used here belong to other people.

Spoilers: Starts a few weeks before the beginning of season 7. So just about everything. Introduces original character so their actions will change things. BTVS characters do not appear until chapter four.

Summary: A terrified fifteen year old Potential, with a Draconian Katra. A ruthless twenty-eight year old demon hunter.

Pairings: None.

Rating: PG-13. Violence, language, and embarrassing sexual situations.

Feedback: Is always apprectiated. Just try to keep it construtive.


Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

Chapter One: Shyboy

A dark wind blew through the network of alleys, side streets, and access lanes that had accidentally built up throughout the old section of rundown warehouses. It scattered debris, twirled small bits of paper and discarded cardboard in its wake. It also tossed Michael's long, ramrod straight, dirty blonde hair about, whipping it to and fro, like dead leaves still clinging to a branch.

The gentle breeze was far from dark, it was actually warm, refreshing with the promise of something extraordinary on the horizon. Dark was just the emotion Michael ascribed to everything during missions like this one. He had little liking for clandestine meetings of any kind, but those that involved an abandoned warehouses in the dark of night gave him an extra special helping of paranoia.

He slips inside the prearranged building, moving surprisingly light for someone of his size and build. Thanks to the dark glasses covering his eyes the decaying and darken shell of a warehouse was light up like noon on a bright, sunny day. With years of training, and nearly as many of practical application, he moves through the building without making a sound.

At the far end of the concrete floor he sees what is suppose to be his contact. There was something that didn't feel right about this. Once again he quickly scans the area. Taking his time he searches even the deepest, darkest crevice for any sign of a trap. A few minutes later he comes up with the same conclusion he had to begin with. The warehouse was clean with only him and his contact, what was suppose to be, an elderly Englishman with an extreme knowledge of the occult and demon community.

The occult Michael didn't really care about. Like all religions their beliefs were protected by the constitution. Demons on the other hand concerned him a great deal. If there was a nest of bloodsuckers in the area he wanted to know about them. Anything that made his job of finding and eliminating the evil bastards easier. Just like he also wanted to know where the friendlier demons were, where their bars were located. He had no desire to kill non hostiles, or to stumble into a situation he couldn't get out of.

Sighing softly to himself he begins to walk forward moving as silently as he always did. He always wondered why people involved in demonology or the occult always insisted on these types of places for their meetings. They never wanted to have their rendezvous in a brightly light Wendy's or any other equally inane place. It always had to be in some dank, dark hole in the ground.

Madison kept a close, anxious eye on the large man approaching her. His thick, black leather duster just touched the tops of his calves. It was extremely stiff and seemed to shine slightly as the pale moonlight hit it. The coat reminded her of something she had seen in a sci-fi t.v. series, not that she got to watch a lot of television, but she managed to sneak some in every now and then.

That was just one of many reasons she had initially formulated this plan. Of course her dreams had forced her to up her timetable. She no longer had the option of finding a suitable candidate. Now it was whatever she could find and what she had found was: a six foot three inch, long blonde hair, Doc Martin clad, sunglasses wearing stud. He was definitely someone she could have sunk her teeth into. As it stood she was going to be sinking something else into him.

"Mr. Davenport?" She inquires just to be sure, not that it mattered, not at this point. She could feel her time running down. He nods, a barely perceptible dip of his head, as he continues to gaze into the shadows surrounding them. She was slightly disconcerted by the fact that he acted like he could see into the darkness around them.

Michael's gaze runs over the girl like a fine tooth comb. She was definitely an eyeful, though her brown trench coat hid most of her body. Tall for a girl in her early teens, maybe five and a half feet. It was hard to tell because she was wearing a pair of paten leather platform boots. She seems lean, not thin, but trim, athletic.

Her long red hair shimmered wetly, accentuating her bronze complexion. It was woven into a network of tight beaded braids. Her hazel eyes were tinted bluish green. They were harder then he was used to seeing on a girl her age. "You're not quite what I was expecting," he replies barely showing any interest in her. His voice had a slight gravelly quality making his words sound harsher then they were meant to be.

She gives him a fake little smile, "I'm Madison Rose. Professor Jacob's assistant," she answers in a voice like spun glass.

"And just why are you here instead of him?" He questions as his gaze finally settle on her. There was something about the girl he just didn't trust.

She shrugs unconcerned by his inquiry, " he was detained. He didn't say why and I didn't asks," she responds giving a good impression of not caring. Reaching inside her coat Michael tenses slightly until he sees her withdraw a thick manila envelope. "He simply instructed me to give you this," she finishes extending the packet to him.

"You know what's in there?" he asks reaching out for the bundle she held.

She shakes her head, "but I can guess," she answers waiting for just the right moment to strike. All she needed was another inch or so and she would be able to use her get out of jail free card.

Michael never saw her move. Not because he wasn't expecting some kind of treachery, since he felt everyone would betray him eventually. He simply never saw her move. A feat that should have been impossible since she was human. His glasses thermal imagery showed him that she had a normal human body temperature.

Her hand had been moving forward, while the envelope still hung in the air, grabbing his wrist in a vise like grip. He was even more surprised when she pulls his arm bringing him to her. He didn't fight the move because it accomplished what he wanted, getting closer to her. His backfist lashes out just as he feels cool metal pressed into the palm of his hand.

A sudden jolt surges through his entire body as everything, his entire world, twists and turns as it's wrung inside out before finally snapping back into place as darkness descends with the abruptness of a switch being thrown. An instant later the back of a large knuckled hand crashes into the side of his head making his eyes roll back. He feels his knees give out from the force of the impact.

"Shit," he hears his gruff voice curse from a short distance away as he feels some kind of ring and bracelet being jerked off his hands. There was something odd about that, something important that he was missing. Right now he could hardly remember the answer to two plus two. He was pretty sure it was four, but he wasn't willing to place money on it.

Suddenly the large hand that had been holding him up lets go. He stumbles back a step before falling to the ground because he had forgotten how to walk. Hitting the concrete didn't feel right to him: he didn't fall far enough, his body didn't cover as much of the concrete as it should have, his grunt didn't sound like him.

"These are way cool," his voice says from several feet away. "Wonder what other neat little toys you've got hidden about?" His body, without him in it, inquires of him.

Everything clicks into place as he looks up at himself. He quickly glances down, in order to confirm his suspicions, at the girl's body he now seemed to be residing in. "What the hell did you do!" He roars angrily, or he tried to. His shout had come out more as a high pitch screech then the roar he had been going for.

Madison giggles. At least he thinks the sound his body emitted was suppose to be a giggle. She staggers forward a couple of steps. He watches as Madison frowns. He's a little surprised by the level of detail he can make out in this body. Either it wasn't as dark as he had originally thought, or the girls night vision was at the pinnacle of what humans were capable of. Maybe even a little better.

Until this moment he had never realized just how intimidating his body was. Seeing himself from this side, as Madison squats down a little clumsily, was a truly impressive sight. "Hope you enjoy the new accommodations," she comments maliciously.

"What did you do to me?" He asks again, though this time in much better control of his new voice, despite already knowing the obvious answer. It was the only thing he could think of doing now. Well there was also beating the crap out of the little bitch but with him stuck in this body, probably with the same motor control problems she now had, he didn't think that was very likely.

She smirks a viscous little grin, "I'm pretty sure you know what I did."

He growls softly at her flippant attitude. "Fine. Why'd you do it?"

Whatever humor she had found in the situation evaporates as she rises back to her full height. "There's these bunch of guys trying to kill me," Madison answers glancing down at her former body. "Well, you now. Along with a bunch of other really special people just like you. Nothing personal. I just don't want to die."

"Nothing personal," Michael hisses. "you're in my body. That makes it about as perso..." Everything seems to slow down as he sees a dark robed arm grab his arm. He sees the gleaming blade of the dagger flash in the pale light from the moon just before it plunges into his stomach. On some level he can feel the searing pain as the blade slices through his flesh, can feel it as the razor sharp blade is pulled out and plunged into his body over and over again. He watches- in horror- as pain, anger, fear, and perhaps a dozen other emotions flash across his face each and every time the dagger pierces his flesh. He watches as the light fades from his eyes. "NOOO!!!" He shouts, on his feet without knowing how he got there.

The first of the, robe wearing, men turn towards the shriek that his vocal cords had created. Michael would have said the man was stunned at seeing him. If the oddly mutilated, eyeless, face could be said to registered expression like most normal human beings. It was possible Michael would have seen that if Michael wasn't in a blind rage. Whatever emotion the Harbingers of the First Evil had were gone in a flash as first one then the other five charge the girl they had been assigned to kill. If they had been able to see the look of pure fury plastered on her normally angelic face they might have had seconds thoughts about launching an assault on her.

Michael sees everything through a red haze of rage as the first of the Harbringers reaches him, the twelve inch blade covered in his blood doing it's best to cut into his flesh. His slim, long finger hand whips out grabbing his wrist, crushing it in his amazingly strong grip. Stepping to the side he twirls his arm flipping the robed man onto his back. Snatching the blade out of his hand, he spins to the left wrapping the Harbringer's arm around his leg snapping his limb at the elbow as he drive his knee into the man's throat crushing his windpipe.

Continuing his spin, Michael slashes his blade upwards, slicing deep into the second Harbringer's forearm causing his suddenly nerveless hand to drop his dagger. Michael's right hand plucks the foot long, razor sharp blade out of the air as it plummets to the concrete floor. Sweeping it diagonally upwards he feels the blade slice through the Harbringer's thigh and gut as easily as it does his dark robe. His left arm swings back slicing upwards through his stomach and chest.

Seeing the four remaining dark robed men closing in on him, Michael shoulder rolls forward putting himself behind them. He's rising back to his feet as he spins back around faster then any of the Harbringers can. The twelve inch blade in each hand slices a deadly pattern into the back of the nearest Harbringer. With a solid front kick into his bloodied back Michael sends the dying man careening into two of his companions. The three of them crash to the floor in a tangled mess of robes and limbs.

Moving quickly, while the last standing Harbringer is still in the middle of twirling around, his robes flaring with the move, he closes on him. The blade in his right hand slipping between two ribs as it slides easily into his heart. Bringing his left arm around his head he snaps his neck as he spins around tossing him at the pair of Harbringers rising to their feet. His body sails through the air nearly taking off his two companions head, both however manage to avoid his body this time.

They separate quickly planning on coming at Michael on an angle. Moving together they both reach him at the same time. It becomes readily apparent that neither has Michael's skill with a blade as he weaves his daggers deflecting the ones that they wield while delivering shallow cuts to their arms seemingly at will. The ring of metal striking metal rings throughout the warehouse as the deadly duel continues. Michael constantly moving, giving ground as he circles keeping both opponents in front of him.

The Bringer on his right slashes downward, while the one on his left stabs upward. He blocks both of them sliding his razor sharp blades along their delicate flesh. One blade slicing down the right arm, from wrist to tricep, before opening the flesh along his ribs. The other does a similar job on his fellow Harbinger's right arm moving upwards until his blade connects with the man's chest. Moving forward he twist, turns one blade sliding downward the other moving up slicing one Harbringer's throat while the other has his guts and intestines spilled onto the concrete floor.

He continues his spin, as his last two opponents fall, shrinking down making himself as small of a target as possible. His eyes search the darkness trying to locate anymore possible enemies cloaking themselves with shadows. Several minutes pass, the entire time the warehouse remains deathly silent, before Michael's convinced that he's the only living person left in what has become a death house.

Rising slowly back to his feet he drops the blood covered daggers to floor. They hit the concrete with a dull clang as he hangs his head as a wave a nausea washes over him. He doesn't feel remorse or regret for the men he had just killed, it was him or them and he'd rather it be them dead every single time. Looking down at himself he wants to laugh, cry, a dozen other things he didn't even have names for. He was in a woman's body, a teenaged girl's body to more accurate. His body was dead lying a dozen feet away among other dead bodies.

He pivots his head slowly until his body comes back into view, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He can feel the multicolored beads Madison had woven into her brilliant red hair shift against his skin. Once again the reality of the situation slams into him and he has the overwhelming urge to hurl, laugh, curse and cry all at the same time coarse through him. He was dead, yet he was alive. Trapped in the body of the conniving bitch that had gotten him killed.

Walking over to his body, only stumbling once on the way, he pulls his pack of camel cigarettes, along with his zippo lighter, out of his duster's pocket. Lighting a cigarette he inhales deeply, only to choke on the smoke as it burns its way down his throat. He frowns lightly at the sensation before taking another smaller drag off the cigarette. "God my life sucks," he sighs softly while smoke billows around him as he exhales. The sound of his new voice sending a shiver down his spine.


New World Man - Rush

He's a rebel and a runner
He's a signal turning green
He's a restless young romantic
Wants to run the big machine

He's got a problem with his poisons
But you know he'll find a cure
He's cleaning up his systems
To keep his nature pure

Learning to match the beat of the Old World Man
Learning to catch the heat of the Third World Man

He's got to make his own mistakes
And learn to mend the mess he makes
He's old enough to know what's right
But young enough not to choose it
He's noble enough to win the world
But weak enough to lose it
He's a New World Man...

He's a radio receiver
Tuned to factories and farms
He's a writer and arranger
And a young boy bearing arms

He's got a problem with his power
With weapons on patrol
He's got to walk a fine line
And keep his self-control

Trying to save the day for the Old World Man
Trying to pave the way for the Third World Man

He's not concerned with yesterday
He knows constant change is here today
He's noble enough to know what's right
But weak enough not to choose it
He's wise enough to win the world
But fool enough to lose it
He's a New World Man...


Shyboy - David Lee Roth

On the stage I'm in a rage
But you I never fool
Well I can rock with anyone
But never alone with you
Somethin' starts a barkin'
Now deep inside of me
I need a classy woman
To knock me off my feet

Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy
Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy

Oh, you make me nervous
More than I had planned
Would you wanna know me
If I wasn't in the band
Crazy feeelings
Deep inside of me
I need a wild woman
To knock me off my feet

Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy
Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy

Gotta keep things moving
Till my personality starts improving

Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy
Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy

Gotta keep things moving
Till my personality starts improving

Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy
Shyboy, shyboy, shyboy, shyboy
Shyboy, shyboy, give it one more time boy