Disclaimer: Don't own BTVS, property of JW. Don't own the Forgotten Realms, property of WoTC. Just takin' them for a bit of a jaunt. Hope you enjoy.

PREVIOUSLY: In my fic, 'A Question of Faith', Spike closes the portal opened by the Necromancer by drinking some of Dawn's blood and diving through. Having no intention of killing good old William, this is the story of his trials on the other side. Time flows a bit differently than on earth, and Spike's in the Forgotten Realms for a much longer time than what passes on earth. This fic is being written in conjunction with 'AQOF', so things may take a while to play out. I'm not sure how long this will be, since I'm planning it to be pretty straightforward. Trust me, you'll like.

Rating: R, as usual. May only be for bloodshed and language, but we'll see.

Title: Korn gets the nod for the title this time.

*****

Things could have gone better for me, but that always seems to be true. Stuck in this bloody city for over two weeks now, been questioned by almost a dozen mages and priests, and they still don't know how to get me home.

Sighing, I drew my sword from the scabbard Kel gave me. It helps, sometimes, not 'avin' to carry the bloody thing around in my hand all the time. And yet… this sword is Buffy's, from her own personal stash. It gives me something to hold onto, tangible, real. Considering my dreams, I really don't need it to remember her, but still.

"Bloody poofer," I muttered to myself. Since when did I start actin' like bloody Peaches.

I was scouting the woods north of the city, lookin' for a spot of violence. I've got so much bloody energy, an' this is the first time they've let me out of their sights. Bloody mages. They're biggest shock was when I told them I was a vampire before, but only have the speed, strength, and healing of one now. Kinda like that comic book guy, but better lookin'.

It's been hours, and I 'aven't seen a bloody sign of this army that's attackin' the city. I think I scared them away. After all, I'm better in a fight than a dozen of them elves, stronger and faster than any human here. Can't say my pride didn't swell with that one.

All of a sudden, I get the feeling I'm being watched. It isn't like just realizing that someone's hiding and spyin'. I've got this whole sixth sense about magic now, an' that's what it is. Magic.

I guess he's alright, a voice, so familiar, in my head. Now we just have to find a way to get him home.

"That'd be nice, Red." I knew the voice, even if it was only in my head. I only hope she can hear me as well as see me. The witch's gotten stronger since her last bout with magic, an' it seems that she's not goin' crazy, like last time. Turning slightly, a small smirk on my lips, I could kinda place where the magic was focusin'.

Spike! Are you okay?

"Bloody well enough. 'Cept I didn't remember how tiring walking all over the bloody place was."

Spike, can you hear me?

"Well enough, Rupes." So, the Watcher is back in town. I might stand a chance of gettin' out of this place after all.

Do you know where you are?

"Not really, but I've got a name for you to find. Myth Drannor. Big city, with elves and dwarves and shit."

Myth Drannor… We'll look into it, and try and contact you in a few days. I could here his mind turning on that one.

"Why didn't you try this before?" I asked. "Took you long enough to figure I might not be dead."

It's been only two days!

"Relax Red. Guess I should've known that there'd be a bit of a difference." Actually, that's a good thing for me. I get to have a bit of fun here, and not 'ave to worry bout the Slayer getting killed.

Spike? How long to you think it's been?

"Three weeks, Red. Three bloody weeks."

Alright, we'll get Buffy here next time. Okay? It would be nice to hear from my Slayer, but I'm not sure if it would hurt more, not bein' able to see her, touch her...

Be careful Spike. We'll try and get you back quickly."

"Thanks Rupes."

I knew the moment the spell ended. That was kinda useful, knowin' they were watching. I wonder if the mages here could work with Red and figure something out. They told me that it would be easier for someone to bring me back than for them to send me home.

"Bloody hell." It's about seven hours walkin' to get back to the city proper, and the Mages tower. "Bloody fucking hell."

*****

"So they were able to contact you," Allanora murmured. "That should make things easier. Just make sure I'm around so that I can talk to the mage on the other side."

"Alright," I couldn't help but look her up and down. Aside from Buffy, she was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, even if she is an elf. Her hair was a soft brown, with hazel eyes flecked with gold. The slight almond shape of her eyes, fine cheekbones, and delicately pointed ears just added to her beauty. The robes she always wore didn't hide her figure very well, which was slim and curvy in all the right places. I know she likes me, an' I might have been tempted. But there's Buffy.

"We might be able to get you home after all," for some reason, she seemed saddened by this.

"Thanks, pet," I drawled. "If for nothin' else, just for tryin."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling sadly.

*****

I never really liked the elven wines. Too bloody light for my tastes. The dwarves, on the other hand, had a real idea of what beer and whisky was supposed to taste, and kick, like. So I found myself in a dwarven tavern for the fifth time this week, pounding beer and participatin' in the dwarven sports: Axe and hammer throwin'.

They're good at what they do, but I'm better. Axes are pretty easy to throw, an' I do have some experience with those. The hammers were a bit odd at first, but I learn quickly. I guess the Big Bad still has it.

"Fer a human, ye sure know 'ow to toss an axe," Kallir said. He's one of the 'friends' I've made here. At least, after I trounced him in the first brawl. I guess that's what I like about the dwarves. They fight and drink like real men, and their accent reminds me of the Scots, back home. I told Kallir that once, and he laughed.

"Real men talk alike," was all he said, laughing as he downed another pint. I'm sad to say he can put me under the table, but not by much. Bloody dwarven livers. I bet if you cut one, he'd bleed beer. Or ale, as they called everything that wasn't hard liquor.

"So, ye goin' out against the runts with us?" he asked casually. Runts, I've found, are goblins and orcs, dwarven foes since time began. I've faced orcs, those things I killed the day, and I've found goblins are smaller. I can only grin.

"I'll try and make the party," I replied, "But I've gotta wait until I get a message from home."

"'hat kinda message?"

"Magic kind."

Dwarves don't really like magic, but Kallir's kept an open mind so far. He's takin' everything I've told him in stride, and doesn't question me too much, which is a nice change from the mages. Bloody questions I don't 'ave answers to always piss me off.

"Well, let's get to drinkin' then," Kallir said. "That's always fun, and ye can still talk after, If I don't put yer skinny arse under a table."

Laughing, I hoist my tankard and drink deep. I could get used to this town. All I need now is Buffy, and things would be great.