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With those words, Gorge stuck out his hand and Rusaka caught it in a firm grip hand to wrist in the
ancient warriors’ way. "Go in safety my friend, I’ll see you again soon enough."
"Thank you, Rusaka."
"No thanks are necessary. Just keep you and yours safe; you do great things for our kind. Farewell
until we meet again."
Rusaka turned and went back the way he had come. Gorge stood there until he could no longer see or
hear the demon, and sighed. He kept on his way, backtracking his own trail often and taking side
tunnels until he wove a bewildering trail behind him. He continued until he was deep under Sunnydale,
in caverns no one else knew were there. Then he settled for the next twelve hours watching his
back-trail to make sure no one had followed him.
When he was sure no one had followed, he made a circle with the powder he had been given and said
the words he had memorized. A small light began to grow about two feet off the ground and a
whirlpool appeared. The whirlpool settled into a smooth surface and grew until it was man-sized. A
picture, shimmering like an object under water, appeared on the other side. When the picture stabilized
Gorge stepped through, pausing to mutter a word. Then he was gone and the picture collapsed the way
it had formed and the cavern was deserted.
No one was there to see the little breeze kick up and scatter the circle and the tickle of magic that was
the result of the portal.
?
Chapter 4: Companions 2
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Disclaimer: all characters belong to their original creators. I am making no profit from them. All
original characters are mine. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental. No
harm is intended to any person real, created, living, deceased, or any financial/corporate entity by the
publication of this story. It is a fiction, therefore a product of my imagination only and should not be
construed as a reflection on the character, personality, sexual preferences or religious beliefs of any
real person or place, living or deceased, actual or created.
Thoughts are indicated by / .
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The night air was cool, with a hint of drifting fog in the air that muted the edges of things just that little
bit and made everything seem a dream instead of middle of the week normal. The moon was was
visible but slightly hazed through the branches of trees that he knew were covered in multi-hued leaves
that signaled fall weather. The few cars on the road slipped by him anonymously, with glaring
headlights and a whishing noise of tires on damp pavement and red taillights blurred. They served only
to make him feel more isolated, like he was in a dream and invisible to the rest of the world.
/Like a dream, he thought, and that’s what my whole life has been. Just a dream, a bad one./
He could hear the muffled sound of his feet hitting the cement of the sidewalk in the quietness of the
early morning hours as he walked back to his basement living quarters from the umpteenth job he’d
found and would probably lose, like all the others. A bartender, he snorted softly and at a bar where
humans and demons mingled indiscriminately, at that. He’d gotten this job with a fake ID that some
non-Scooby friends had arranged for him.
The Scoobies would probably shit bricks and then Willow would give him that LOOK, and Giles
would wipe his glasses feverishly, and Buffy would screech on about it till Doomsday, and Tara would
hide behind her hair and say nothing, which invariably made him feel absurdly guilty. Dawn would
want a blow by blow account of how to get a fake ID and what kind of customers did he have. And
Spike..Spike would smirk and make acid comments about white hats getting all smudgy, then he’d
have to say something back about borrowing Spike’s peroxide to get it out. Everyone would be