Disclaimer: My muse returned today. Unfortunately, it brought no ownership rights with it.

Before he could really begin to tell his story, Haldir had to provide some background information first. The great tales of Middle-earth could never begin with "Once upon a time." There was too much history. When you lived forever unless cut down early by violence or dehabilitating despair, your decisions were influenced by far more than the events of yesterday. The fall of Gondolin had been terrible, and Haldir wanted the Winchesters to understand the full extent of its horror and Glorfindel's heroism. He told of Beleriand, the desperate battles against Morgoth, the curse placed upon Húrin. Haldir spoke of dissent and intrigue, the troubles over the hand of Idril Celebrindal, and how Maeglin's treachery led to the city's downfall. For once his brothers refrained from interrupting.

Sara's eyes drifted shut as she listened to the elf, allowing him to draw her slowly into another world. Haldir smiled to himself and went on. He described the cold, harsh pass of Cirith Thoronath and of the ambush that awaited Gondolin's few survivors.

"Not simply cruel-eyed, claw-fingered, filthy-hearted Orcs, but a Balrog as well. Their plight was dreadful, for Tuor and Idril led a party full of women and children and wounded warriors. But Glorfindel, chief of the House of the Golden Flower, challenged the Balrog, and they dueled. High up on a pinnacle of rock they fought, the yellow-haired elf lord and the demon of fire and stone. Glorfindel fought valiantly, but both he and the Balrog fell to dreadful ruin in the abyss."

"That's it? That's your great story? He died?" Dean leaned back in his chair. "Dude, I could have written a better story in my sleep."

"That is not all," Haldir snapped, glaring at the human. "Thorondor, Lord of the Eagles, and his people came to their aid. They drove the Orcs to their deaths and gave Glorfindel a fitting burial."

"Still think it's a crappy story."

"Yes, well, I could hardly tell it to you the way I heard it. Glorfindel tends to embroider tales of his former exploits beyond the believable."

"Wait . . . I thought Glorfindel died." Sam had the feeling he'd missed something important.

Haldir smirked at the Winchesters. "That's the thing about elves, you know," he remarked nonchalantly. "We come back"

"Except Feänor," Rumil interjected.

His brother frowned. "Feänor doesn't count."

Dean remembered that name from one of Orophin's earlier stories. "Feänor, that's the angry guy who made the jewels, right?"

The tall elf sighed. "In a nutshell. Honestly, Hal, when it comes to Balrog stories, I prefer the one of Ecthelion and Gothmog."

"How does that one end?" Sam asked curiously.

"Same way." Rumil looked disheartened. "They both die."

Finley had been sitting back and listening. He spoke up now. "Gentlemen, I believe our lady friend has fallen asleep," he pointed out quietly.

The Winchester brothers exchanged glances.

"Good. I didn't want to say this in front of the girl, but Sammy and I want her out of this vampire business. And don't bother saying you don't, Fin. I know you better. And we all know how dangerous this vamp thing is going to be."

"She has finals week starting Monday," Haldir added softly. "Her roommate said something earlier this evening."

Sam thought back to his own college days. "Sara only met us yesterday. We don't want to screw up her GPA over some vamp problem."

The bartender nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. All in favor of us taking Sara home and leaving her there?" Everyone raised a hand, including Finley himself. "Motion carries. All right, now who'll do the dirty work?"

"I've already been bad guy once today," Haldir said ruefully. "I am not sure I can do it again so soon."

"Besides, if she wakes up and begs Hal to let her stay, he'll cave. No, we'll leave that to you, Finley."

"We will put in a call to Rupert tomorrow morning," Orophin promised. "See if he knows anything about that 'Something Bad' that Peter was worried about."

"Thanks." Dean managed a half smile for the elf. "Fin, you in for the hunt?"

"Yeah."

"Then you can come with Sam and me. We'll drop Sara off on our way to catch us some vamps."

"All right. Let's go, then."

"Works for me. Come on, Sam."

Men and elves got to their feet. Rumil and Orophin disposed of the pizza boxes and alcohol bottles while Finley dug behind the bar for a battered black address book. Then the elves slipped out the front door into the night. Vampires were definitely not their thing. Since Haldir's breakup with Bernice, they had been trying even harder than usual to mind their own business.

Dean watched them go, frowning slightly. "Hey, Sam, you drive. Just this once." He tossed his younger brother the keys. "I'll carry her." Bending over, the man lifted Sara out of her chair. One arm wrapped around her back, the other under her knees, he held the girl easily. She was lighter than he'd expected.

The black address book clasped in his hand triumphantly, Fin hopped over the bar. "I could have done that, Dean."

Head cocked to the side, one eyebrow lifted, Dean refrained from commenting. His face said it all.

"It's not what you're thinking."

"Sure, it's not." Dean grinned, not believing a word Fin said.

Sam interrupted before they all drowned in a sea of innuendo. "We'd better get moving before Sara wakes up."

They hurried out the door. Fin paused to lock it carefully, then joined the others at the car. While Sam slid into the driver's seat and started the Impala, Dean gently set Sara down in the back.

"Drive fast, Sam. We don't have much time."

For once obeying his brother's orders without complaint, Sam floored it. He followed Finley's directions to Sara's apartment complex.

"Which number is it, Fin?"

"Twenty-three, I think."

The Impala pulled up outside number twenty-three, and Dean made to get out of the car.

"Wait. I think we should leave her a note."

Dean snorted. "What? 'Don't try to find us'?"

"Nah." Finley shook his head. "Just something telling her not to worry."

Now it was Sam's turn to snort. "She'll do that anyway, Fin. If you want to write something, do it fast, or she's going to wake up."

Each of them scribbled something down on the same old Subway napkin. Fin tucked it into Sara's pocket, then Dean gathered her back into his arms and lifted her out of the car. He carried the girl up the steps to her apartment, wondering what it was about her that had so obviously gotten under his friend's skin.

"I hope you're worth it," he muttered under his breath. "And I hope you've got the sense to stay out of this."

Sighing, the hunter knocked on Sara's apartment door. Dean felt rather ridiculous. Then the humor of the situation struck him, and he had to crack a grin.

"Hey . . . oh." The petite blonde at the door looked at him in great confusion. This guy, while undeniably hott, was not the same person her roommate had gone on a date with. And why was Sara passed out in this guy's arms? Jennifer gasped as her suspicious mind cast about for an explanation. Had Sara been binge drinking?

Dean kept from snickering with great difficulty. The girl who'd answered the door looked as if she'd been hit on the head with a two-by-four. "She's had a long night," he said casually, nodding down at the girl in his arms. "I don't really want to wake her up. So . . . do you mind if I come in?"

"Of course not," Jen replied automatically. She tried valiantly to recover from the shock of Sara and this edgy, hott guy who seemed somehow familiar. Maybe Gwyn or Lynzey knew him? "Come on in. Sara's room is just down the hall, last door on the right."

Jen instantly flushed. Why had she said that? Sara never had boys in her room, let alone rugged, attractive men. The hott stranger seemed to take it all in stride, however. He stepped over the threshold, still carrying Sara bridal style, and made his way down the hallway.

The hunter's amusement kept growing by the second, and it was all he could do to hold it in. Sara was either a very deep sleep or a great actress; she didn't crack an eyelid, even when her other two roommates came out into the hall and gaped blankly at Dean with wide eyes. He turned into the last bedroom and laid the girl out on the bed. After glancing around the room, Dean turned back to her and nearly jumped.

Sara had opened one eye and was staring at him quite steadily. Very aware of the open door behind him, Dean jerked his head at it in warning. He pointed to the girl's pocket and mouthed the word "Note". Now Sara opened the other eye. She pulled out the note and read it quickly with a grimace.

"Not fair," she mumbled quietly, figuring her roommates were all lurking out of sight of the doorway, eavesdropping.

Dean fixed her with a hard stare, his grin gone. "It's not about being fair," he answered just as quietly. "It's about no one else dying."

"But . . . But I can't not know what's going on."

He leaned forward and ruffled her spiky hair. "When we know something, I'll tell you, all right?" he whispered into her ear. "Now go to sleep."

She nodded, accepting it but hating it all the same.

"Good." Then in a louder voice so that her roommates would definitely hear and have something to gossip about, he continued, "Thanks for tonight. I had the time of my life." Dean winked at Sara, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Sara closed her eyes as soon as he was gone. She held perfectly still, listening intently as Jen, Gwyn, and Lynzey all poked their heads in. They whispered to each other for a moment, then turned her light off and shut the door. Sara grinned to herself, kicked her shoes off, and flopped onto her other side. In minutes, she was asleep.

"That took a while," Fin said flatly when Dean at last returned to the car.

"Aw, you jealous?" Dean climbed into the backseat and stretched out, smirking. "Don't worry, Fin. I didn't do anything. You should have seen the looks on those other girls' faces, though. Guess our girl doesn't get out that much." He didn't bother mentioning his promise to keep her informed, partially because he had yet to decide if he was going to keep it.

"Our girl?" Sam turned back out onto the main road. "Why the sudden interest, Dean? She isn't your type."

"But she is Finley's."

Fin growled. "Dean . . ."

"You're only what, ten years older than she is? That's not robbing the cradle at all."

"Dean!"

"What?"

"Stop being a jerk. Fin's trying to help us. . . So, Fin, what kind of vampires do you think we're after?" Sam changed the subject before things could get too unpleasant. Besides, they legitimately needed Finley's help. Sure, the Winchesters could handle monsters and demons and ghosts and every other kind of nasty supernatural creature, but when it came to this town, where Bernie's restaurant made all the rules go funky. . . Fin was a definite asset.

Reluctantly, Fin quit glaring at Dean, who still had a smirk plastered across his face. "That depends," he said slowly. "Depends on which canon has been running around lately."

"Not Twilight vampires?" A highly unpleasant question, but one that had to be asked nonetheless.

"Havens, no. They don't dare come near here. Bernie hates them, as do some of the local vamps, I believe. There've been rumors of some 'Interview with a Vampire' type activity, and we had the 'Peeps' virus last Fourth of July . . ." Finley thought hard. "It's unlikely to have anything to do with Dracula – he and Bernie get along famously, even if I do make a crappy Renfield. It might be some Amelia Atwater-Rhodes type vamps, but they're mostly thrill-seekers. This doesn't have their 'exotic' touch, either, if you know what I mean."

Sam let him think out loud. Having been faced with the reality of the "things that go bump in the night" at a young age, he hadn't read half the monster fiction books that Fin had. He recognized Dracula, but that was about it.

Finley continued to ramble. "There are so many cheesy vampire flicks that it's just pointless to list them all. If I had to commit myself, I'd guess that your vampire is pretty standard. No sunlight, stakes are a go, so is fire – and probably decapitation. Not so sure about garlic. It always seemed kinda ridiculous to me. Coffins are definitely out. But this is all speculation. If you want exact details, I'd go as the expert."

"Expert?"

The bartender nodded. "There's a Slayer in town."

"Slayer?" Sam wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

"Hell, no," Dean swore, paying attention at last. "No Slayers."

"What's a Slayer?"

"Hott chick, thinks she's the one girl in the world called to take on the vampires and all other types of Evil. Well, it used to be one. I heard this witch went crazy with some magical scythe, and now there's thousands." Dean sounded thoroughly depressed.

"Are they all good looking?"

"I don't know about all of them, but the one I met definitely was. She had some serious issues, though."

Having finally decided to forgive Dean, Fin smiled sardonically. "Hunters, Slayers, you've all got issues. So do you want to see her or not?"

"Slayer . . ." Sam was slowly making a pop culture connection. "Not Buffy the Vampire Slayer?"

"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the kid who went to Stanford."

Finley had to grin at that one. "Not Buffy, no. We aren't quite Hellmouthy enough to get Buffy. But one of her kind, yes. The Slayer in town's had a lot of . . . experience."

"Can she help us find who killed Peter?" That was all Sam cared about, really. "She kills vampires, but can she track them?"

"She knows more about the vampires in this town than anyone else. If one of the locals killed Pete, the Slayer will be able to find out who it was."

"Locals?"

"It's a big town, Dean. We may not have a Hellmouth, but with the 'Cat and all, a lot goes on."

"What's a Hellmouth?" Sam asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

"Portal to Hell."

Yep. He'd been right.

Dean leaned forward slightly in his seat. "Hey, Fin, what's this Slayer's name?" He was hoping violently it wasn't the one he'd met before. That encounter had not ended well.

Fin looked at him curiously, as if he guessed Dean's thoughts. "Faith. Why?"

"D-mn." Dean knew her.

Author's Note: I've got a few questions for you, dear reader. Would you like to know what was in the note Fin and the Winchesters left Sara? Do you like the new added fandom? Also, I've been thinking about switching this story to the Crossover section, since it isn't strictly LotR, but I'm not a hundred percent sure where I'd put it yet. Drop me a line or two, and let me know what you think.

Until next time,
AiH