Chapter One

"So, what d'ya got?"

Dean eyed his brother expectantly as Sam set the newspaper on the diner table. "Seven deaths in the past two weeks," Sam said, taking a mouthful of black coffee. "All elderly people."

Dean shrugged, then said with his mouth still full, "What's so odd about that? Old folks die all the time, right?"

"You didn't let me finish." Sam's face flickered with interest as he read from the newspaper article: "Recent baffling deaths of seven senior citizens in the St. Augustine area of Florida. All

of them had been in a coma, experiencing violent REM for -"

"REM?"

"Rapid eye movement," Sam explained. He then continued reading; "violent REM for forty-eight hours before being slashed to death by - seemingly - nothing at all. Cause of death: blood loss. Seems a bit strange to me. That, and no one saw it happen."

"The slashing, you mean?"

Sam nodded. "Also, all seven victims showed signs of dementia prior to their comatose states. That part may not sound unusual, but seven vics, all with the same mysterious M.O.?"

"Sounds like our kind of thing," Dean said while swallowing the last bite of his lunch. He tossed a few bills onto the table and drove off with Sam to St. Augustine, just about three hours away from where they were staying in Savannah, Georgia.

The next day, Sam had been sitting at the small table in a rather uncomfortable chair for what seemed like hours, researching everything he could on the subject of their new case until Dean finally arrived back to their room later that afternoon. He would have stayed out much later were it not for overhearing a news channel playing in the bar announcing another mysterious death at yet another nursing home in the area. Dean burst into the motel room, not even shutting the door behind him.

"Did you hear about the -"

"New death? Yeah," Sam said.

"I thought we might talk to one of the vic's family members or visit the scene of the death."

"Let's go, then," Sam said. He pulled the sleeves of his coat on, remembering to grab from his bag the two investigators' badges.

The two brothers arrived at Hansen's Nursing Center, showing their badges to the middle-aged woman at the desk who directed them to a guard. Sam and Dean were then escorted to an extremely clean room upstairs. The body had since been removed, and several officers were prowling around, stooping to examine blood spatters and other articles of the ended life. One officer in particular was chatting with the grievous owner of the nursing home, and the brothers made their way to the pair.

"Excuse us," Dean said, pulling his badge from his chest pocket. "Federal Agent Barrett, and my partner Agent Waters."

"Officer Tyler," the cop said, shaking the hands of Sam and Dean. The owner of the place shook their hands as well, introducing himself as Mr. Hansen.

"Officer, you say there were no witnesses?" Sam said, replacing the badge in his pocket.

"None. That we know of, at least. Mrs. Fields, the victim, lived here alone."

"And there are no security cameras?" Dean said.

"Oh, no," Mr. Hansen interjected. "We respect all of our tenants here with the utmost privacy."

"Yeah, look what good that got ya," Dean mumbled to himself. He and Sam were walking off to to look around the room. Dean perused the bookshelves, the cabinets, and other various corners of the room while Sam interrogated the daughter of the victim.

"And Sherry, did you visit your mother often?"

"Often enough," she said, wiping her wet chin. "I got into a fight with my mother a few days back. That was the last time I'd seen her - oh god, she probably died without having forgiving me!"

Sam gave a small smile and patted the shoulder of the woman, Sherry, trying to comfort her so he could ask more questions.

"Aside from her record as being one of the oldest people in Florida," he said, while writing a few things on his notepad, "would you say there was anything - unusual about your mother? Anything she did recently that maybe, I don't know, struck you as odd?"

"No," Sherry mumbled, shaking her head. "No, nothing like that."

"Nothing at all?"

Sherry shook her head. "Excuse me," she said, seeming to crumble with every tear that fell from her face. She walked off, and Sam found Dean perusing a space of flooring under the stove in the kitchen area.

"Did you find anything?" Sam said from behind his brother. Dean stood up, looking at something in his hand.

"Yeah, I think I did."

Sam looked down at what appeared to be an ancient coin of sorts, nonagonal-shaped and rusted. Dean tucked it away into his pocket and the two left the scene of the death rather hurriedly.

Back in the car, Sam told Dean what knowledge he had gained from Mrs. Fields' daughter.

"So apparently, there was nothing special or strange about this woman."

"Meaning?"

"Whoever - or whatever - is doing this is doing it simply because these people are old."

"That's a little weird."

"Yeah, well. It's a lead. I'll hit the books for age predators when we get back. You look for old coins."

Several hours and a trip to the library later, Sam closed a heavy book with a loud thud and sighed. "Well, I made some progress. Turns out St. Augustine is recognized as the very first settlement in America by Europeans. It was the Spanish who -"

"No offense, man," Dean interjected, looking up from the laptop which was really beginning to hurt his eyes, "but that's progress?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well I thought about it, and don't you see? The oldest settlement in America, where the oldest citizens are spontaneously getting dementia; falling comatose, then being slashed to death? I thought it all might mean something, so I looked up creatures that prey on years."

"And?"

"And, it turns out we aren't up against a creature at all. The perp's a goddess. Or should I say, fallen goddess. Her name's Enapay. That coin you found, it was -"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. At that very moment, he found a picture of the exact coin on a PDF of archaic currency. "Native American."

"Right. Enapay was supposedly the Native American goddess of age, or rather, the lack of it. When it came time for the elderly to die, she would feed on their memories - thus, dementia comes about - and puts them into a deep sleep - comas - then she'd let them die."

That doesn't explain the slashing or the blood loss of our vics," Dean said, looking skeptically at his brother.

"Remember how I said she was a fallen goddess?"

Dean nodded.

"Don't you think that, if you were kicked from grace, you'd want some revenge? And maybe you'd be a little power-hungry? She does feed on years, after all. Maybe she's trying to regain her strength. I don't know, just theorizing here."

"And the coin. Why would she leave it there?"

"Well, supposedly, all souls are protected from fallen gods and goddesses by default. It's kind of like angel markings. A fallen god or goddess can't come into close proximity of a human unless she drops a coin in their dwelling. Like a hex bag, but slyer."

"Okay, that all makes sense, I guess, but why now? Why all of a sudden? And how do we kill her?

"No idea. That's what I was hoping to figure out. I was thinking about visiting the local college campus tomorrow and talking to a professor there who specializes in Native American culture and history."

Dean nodded. He took Sam's mention of "tomorrow" as a cue to finally retire to bed; and though it was only ten o'clock, he gratefully took the opportunity to rest.

The next morning Sam awoke to find Dean already up, sitting at the table on their laptop, curled over a marker and a large diagram of some sort.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean teased. He threw Sam the bag of fast-food breakfast he had gotten and resumed doing whatever he was doing while Sam showered and dressed. Sam came out of the bathroom fully dressed as Dean finally closed his marker's cap, sitting back to study what he had just drawn.

"You sure are up early," he said, pulling on his shoes and eyeing Dean with suspicion. "Can I ask what you're so piously working on?"

Dean held up the large map he had scribbled on in red marker. "I made a map of everywhere this Enapay-bitch went to, and it turns out she didn't go in age-order."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"What I mean is, she didn't start with the oldest. Maybe she isn't as professional as we think. In fact, Lisa Crow, the second victim, was only seventy-nine. Her husband, though, was ninety-eight, but he's still alive. The police never got the chance to interrogate him though, 'cause he died right when his wife fell into a coma. Heart attack."

"Okay. What else?"

"They lived together in a condo in the area. Look." Dean handed his brother the map. The scrawlings showed a plot in the shape of a nonagon, just like the shape of the coin, except only eight out of nine sides had been filled in.

"Maybe Mrs. Crow got in Enapay's way?"

"That's what I'm thinking. Look, I see the pattern. As soon as we figure out how to kill this bitch, I'm gonna head over to the next area that fills in the nonagon. See if that professor knows anything about destroying a fallen goddess, okay?"

Sam agreed, grabbed the car keys, and headed off. Dean sat back down in front of their laptop to do something a little more... recreational for a few hours while he waited for his brother.

Just barely dozing off half an hour later, he was startled by the flapping of wings and someone saying his name from behind him. Dean barely had time to process the sounds before turning around and seeing Castiel.

"Cass, what - what are you doing here?"

"I know how to destroy Enapay." He stepped closer. "I want to help."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You knew all along what we were up against, and you chose now to step in? I mean, it may not have been Sam and I that were in danger, but eight people have died, Cass."

"I'm here now, and that's all that matters." He watched Dean's eyes for a few moments before continuing. "I'm obviously the oldest person out of the three of us," - meaning Sam, Dean, and himself - "so I'm willing to go with you to stop Enapay."

"Wait, you mean you're offering yourself as bait?"

Cass nodded slowly, eyes fixated on the ground now. "You can put it that way."

"How do you know you can kill her?"

"My brothers... they killed Enapay's sister."

And how do you know this bitch won't just kill you first? If she feeds on years, she'll obviously stop at nothing to drain you of all of yours."

"Don't worry about me, Dean. Just tell me where she's going to be next."

"No way in hell, man! You aren't going without me."

Dean was standing up at this point, standing somewhat close to the angel. The motel door opened all of a sudden and Sam walked through, looking happy to see his friend.

"Cass?" he said. "What are you doing he-"

"He wants to help destroy Enapay," Dean replied to his brother, his eyes still on Cass. Sam chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Cass snapped.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, still smirking a bit. "I just find it a little ironic that an angel of the Lord is going nose-to-nose with a deity from a complete other theology -"

"Yeah, no one cares, Sam; Cass is about to give himself up as bait -"

"Cass? Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam said, setting down the papers he had walked in with. When he didn't get a reply, he simply shrugged. "Well, I guess I visited that professor for nothing, if you really do know how to kill a fallen goddess."

Cass looked over at Sam, somewhat apologetically. "Dean and I will be going now," he said, grabbing Dean by one elbow and placing two cold fingers to his forehead.