So here is finally another chapter of Familiar Faces. This fic is slowly starting to resemble hell in the way it is progressing. But I have promised it before, and I promise it again, I will finish this. Eventually.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and an even bigger thank you to Shadows Dancing for beta-ing. Constructive criticism makes XWA a better writer. Please leave your comments in a review, by email, or in my journal. Both of the latter can be found in my Author profile.

Enjoy,

XWingAce

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Methos paused his digging to yawn. It had been entirely too long a day. Flying to the States, finding the Slayer's house, and then finally the war council that had kept the whole group up past dawn. At present he had been awake for forty-six hours and counting.

He also still had a phone call to make. Back in Paris, Joe would be wondering what had happened to him and Marie. But first, there were graves to dig. He wouldn't let Marie lie in a dank cellar any longer than was necessary. And as long as he was digging anyway, he could also dig the grave for the other poor girl that had died last night.

The Slayer came outside, carrying Marie's body. She gently laid it down next to Annabelle's, then came to stand at the foot of the two graves.

"You okay?" She asked.

He nodded. "Just tired."

"I know how you feel." Her voice was sympathetic. "It feels like I haven't slept for days either." She held out her hand to help him out of the grave. Methos took it, and felt her incongruous strength pull him up.

"I have to go to work soon. But I can help you bury them, at least." The young woman gestured to the two bodies now lying on the grass, securely wrapped in sheets.

"Thank you." He moved over to pick up Marie's body. He took the shoulders, Buffy took the legs. Together, they moved the body over the grave and lowered it as slowly as possible. Still, the last foot or so it had to be dropped. They did the same thing with Annabelle's body, only changing places.

Methos was beginning to feel the lightheadedness that came with near total exhaustion. He tried to shake it off. He picked up the shovel and started to shift the soil back onto the bodies Buffy picked up another shovel and moved in to help.

After a few minutes, Xander appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Buff. I' m taking Dawn to school. D'you want a lift, or are you coming in later?"

Methos looked at the Slayer. She stared back at him, slightly embarrassed. "Do you think you can handle this? I already missed a lot of time at work…"

He nodded. "I'll manage. Thanks for the help, but I wanted to do this alone anyway. Go."

They left. Methos marveled at the strange situation that had developed here. He was burying two girls in the back yard of someone who killed vampires and demons by night and was a counselor by day. All things considered, it was probably just slightly less weird than people living forever and cutting each other's heads off with swords.

He resumed his shoveling. Soon both bodies were properly covered. He placed the makeshift markers on the graves. It didn't feel like enough.

Marie had been catholic, hadn't she? With a name like that, and in France, it was likely. Methos had never given much credence to any form of Christianity, or any of the monotheistic religions, but that wasn't the point right now. Besides, after centuries of living in Christian society, the prayers had worn their grooves in his memory.

He started the litany of Mary. He only knew the praises in Latin, but for the simpler Hail Marys in between he started in French, then worked his way through other languages. He hadn't yet run out when the litany was finished.

"Look at you, mourning. Feeling left out? Don't worry, brother, you'll get your amusements soon enough"

Methos felt as if the world slowed down around him. He knew that voice. The voice of a dead man. He tried to twist around, but he seemed to move through gelatin. Before he had even managed to stand up completely straight, the figure from his nightmares had moved in front of him.

"Kronos." Okay, two things were wrong here. One, the man he was facing now was dead, killed, not by Methos himself, but in his presence. He had even shared in his brother's Quickening. Two, even though Kronos had wanted to return to the olden days of terror, when he'd died under Macleod's blade he had certainly updated his clothing. The Kronos standing before him was Pestilence of the Horsemen, complete with armor and tattoos. And grinning.

"You enjoyed the fight last night, Methos, don't deny it. Deep down, nothing has changed."

"You're dead." Remarks from last night's conversation, and of Macleod's ordeal four years ago, began to click together. A spirit who could appear in the guises of the dead…

"And you are Death. Remember that, Brother."

With those words, time resumed its normal course. The visitation was over.

--

Outside, it had been quiet. Apparently the general populace of Sunnydale was smart enough to lie in until well after dawn. Not in this house, however. In his search for a little privacy Methos walked in first on Andrew, still tied up in the living room. Anya was busy with whatever in the kitchen, and Kennedy was exercising in the basement. The bathroom was locked, so probably Molly was in there. He tried the bedrooms. In two of them, he barely found room to put his feet among the welter of blankets and clothes. Finally, the last room he tried was empty and reasonably uncluttered. Pretty much the only things that indicated that anyone ever used it were the bottles on the makeup stand and a stuffed pig on the bed.

He sat down on the bed and dialed the number of le Blues on his cellphone.

--

Joe heard the phone ringing from the other end of the club. Before he could make his way over there through the throng of Watchers, however, Amanda had already answered it.

"Adam, darling. You kept us worrying. Just like you to grab a good night's sleep before calling." There was a slight pause. "Joe's on his way. Hang on."

As soon as he reached the bar, Amanda handed him the horn.

"Dawson."

"Hey Joe. Everything still okay over there?" The Old Man sounded odd.

"It feels like I'm hosting a Watcher seminar, but yes, basically everything's fine here. How are you getting on? Marie okay?"

The ominous silence on the other end of the line pretty much said it all. "Shit."

"I buried her this morning. She never even made it to the Slayer's house."

"The monks again?"

"No. We ran across some vampires. I dealt with them, but I had to leave her alone and something else killed her."

"It's all real?"

"It's all real."

"So what are we dealing with?" Again, there was a pause on the other end of the line. "Unless you tell me something I can't help you, Old Man."

"Joe, are you absolutely sure the Watchers have nothing to do with the Slayer?"

"I don't have access to everything, buddy, but I think something like this would have come up. Why?"

"I found a book here that looked like a chronicle, Watcher's seal and all. But it had a whole section on Slayer training."

Now it was Joe's turn to pause. Never in his whole career as a Watcher, had the term 'Slayer' ever come up. And vampires, like most of the supernatural, had been dismissed as either misinterpretations of Immortals or plain overactive imaginations. Which was actually pretty strange, come to think of it.

"Joe? You still there?" He'd paused too long, apparently. Methos was getting worried.

"I'm here." He answered, then paused for a breath to answer the earlier question. "I'm sure I never heard of a Slayer, but maybe some others have. I'll have to rattle some bars. Thankfully we've got most of the surviving European Watchers together here, so it shouldn't take too long. But you still haven't told me what you think we're dealing with."

"Ahriman is after the Slayer and the Watchers."

"What? But…"

"But I didn't believe in Ahriman and Mac was supposed to have driven him off for another thousand years. I know. Consider me a convert. I don't know why or how he's back, but trust me, he is."

"Yeah, sure. You want the information I had on him, right?"

"They have some information here too, but maybe you found something that was missed here. So yes, that would be great."

"I'll see if I can get it to you. If I can still find it, that is. Same for the Slayer stuff."

"Thanks, Joe."

"You're welcome. Hang in there, Old Man."

"Bye, Joe."

And the line went dead. Right, there was work to do.

--

Finally. All the things that could not wait were done. Now he really should be doing his own part in the research. That training manual/chronicle was still there, waiting to be studied more intensely. But for now, this bed really was nice and soft, and it had been so long since he had a proper sleep. No time for that, really. But closing his eyes for two seconds felt so good…

Methos slept.