Chapter 111: Chapter 111 : Sleeping Angel
In a private mansion overlooking the hills of Los Angeles, a middle-aged man stood before an unusually large coffin crafted from pitch-black wood.
Symbols covered its surface while silver inlays ran along the edges like veins. Even beneath the mansion’s lights, the wood seemed to absorb illumination rather than reflect it.
Marcus Baker studied it carefully.
Unlike most wealthy collectors, he had never cared much for paintings or sculptures. His interest had always been strange relics, rare artifacts, and objects tied to legends.
Over the years, that obsession had filled his collection with everything from alleged vampire remains to cursed medieval weapons.
Even among those, this stood out.
"Hmm."
Marcus circled the coffin slowly.
"Are you really telling me there’s an angel inside?"
The broker smiled.
"Of course."
He rested a hand against the dark wood.
"Do you know why this coffin was made from this material?"
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"Because ordinary materials couldn’t contain the light."
"Ten days ago, something fell from the sky near the Los Angeles coastline. Officially it was called a meteor before the whole incident was buried."
His voice lowered slightly.
"But eyewitnesses told a different story."
Marcus listened.
"They claimed a man descended from the heavens surrounded by blue light."
The broker spread his arms.
"And considering this happened in the City of Angels, people naturally reached the obvious conclusion."
Marcus let out a faint laugh.
"That an angel fell from Heaven."
"Exactly."
The broker nodded.
"He was unconscious when he landed. Before authorities arrived, several groups recovered him from the impact site. After changing hands a few times, he eventually found his way to me."
Marcus looked back at the coffin.
The story sounded ridiculous.
The faint blue glow leaking through the gaps made it harder to dismiss.
"Open it."
The broker stepped forward and released the heavy locks. One by one, they clicked open.
The room immediately grew brighter.
Blue light spilled through the widening gap as the lid slowly slid aside.
When the coffin fully opened, blue radiance flooded the room, and Marcus froze. Inside lay a young man with no wings, no halo, nothing that matched the images found in churches, yet the sight of him felt wrong.
Blue energy flowed beneath his skin like liquid light. Tiny motes drifted around his body before fading into the air.
The pressure filling the room wasn’t threatening, but it carried the unmistakable feeling of something that didn’t belong in the ordinary world.
Without realizing it, he took a step closer.
Blue light reflected across his face as he stared into the coffin.
After several seconds, he finally spoke.
"He’s alive."
"Of course he is," the broker replied.
Marcus continued watching the sleeping figure.
The longer he looked, the stranger it felt. Not because of his appearance, but because of the presence surrounding him.
It felt like something far larger than the human shape lying inside the coffin.
"Interesting," Marcus murmured.
The broker smiled, convinced the sale had been worth every dollar.
***
Dean and Sam sat inside their motel room in Los Angeles, surrounded by newspapers, printed reports, and eyewitness accounts. The more they dug into the incident, the less sense it made. Every source seemed to tell a different story.
Some claimed a meteor had fallen into the ocean. Others insisted it had been a military experiment, while a few jumped straight to aliens.
Dean tossed one newspaper aside and grabbed another.
"What the hell? Angels?" he muttered, staring at the headline.
Across from him, Sam scrolled through an eyewitness interview on his laptop. Unlike most of the articles, this one supposedly came from someone who had actually been near the beach when everything happened.
He read part of it aloud.
"’Trust me, folks, angels are real. I saw it with my own eyes. A blue ball of light fell from the sky and crashed near the shore. When we got there, there was a man lying inside the crater surrounded by a glow. It wasn’t normal. It felt completely otherworldly.’"
Dean rolled his eyes but let him continue.
"’When I looked at him, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had brown hair and looked nothing like the angels in paintings, but something about him felt unreal. Then a group of armed men showed up and took him away before the authorities arrived.’"
Sam paused briefly before reading the last line.
"’The government should rescue the poor sleeping angel.’"
Dean lowered the newspaper and stared at the laptop.
"What kind of nonsense is this?"
Most of it sounded ridiculous, but Sam wasn’t paying attention to the angel part.
"Dean, did you catch something?"
"The brown hair?"
Sam nodded.
For a moment Dean was silent.
"Yeah. That’s Henry."
The conclusion wasn’t difficult to reach.
Henry’s blade had already been recovered near the impact site, and now there were witness reports describing a brown-haired man surrounded by blue light. The odds of that being somebody else were practically zero.
For the first time since Christmas, some of the tension eased from Dean’s shoulders.
Henry had survived.
At least that much seemed increasingly likely.
A few seconds later, his expression tightened again.
"But something doesn’t add up," he said. "If he’s alive, why hasn’t he contacted us?"
That was the part that bothered him.
Sam glanced back at the report.
"The article keeps calling him a sleeping angel."
Dean frowned.
"So?"
"So maybe he was actually unconscious."
He turned the laptop toward Dean.
"Think about it. Henry fought Lilith, got caught in whatever happened at that mansion, then somehow crashed into Los Angeles hard enough for people to mistake it for a meteor. He could’ve ended up in some kind of coma."
Dean considered it.
As explanations went, it was surprisingly reasonable.
"You think he’s still asleep?"
"That’s my best guess."
*****
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