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A Study in Angelic Behaviour

Summary:

Sam signed up to be an intern in angelic conservation. Someone has to protect the endangered species. He's shipped out to the back of beyond, and sure, he expected the camping and the endless hours of fieldwork.
He didn't expect to to become part of changing the world's understanding of angelic intelligence. And he did NOT expect to be courted by the very persistent alpha. But Gabriel isn't going to let a little thing like species get between them.

Notes:

Hi everyone!
So. Um. This one's not exactly my usual! Technically, it's a kink prompt, but since I submitted it then adopted it (I know don't judge me) I figure I should take full responsibility.
PLEASE for the love of Chuck read the flippin' tags, but I hope you enjoy it! There's a whole lot of biology fieldwork descriptions to wade through before we get to the smut (lol sorry-not-sorry) but we will get there!

Dedicated to all the thirsty motherfuckers in the sabriel discord who have been slowly breaking down my internal shame by being absolutely shameless at every opportunity. Without you I would never have even started this, never mind publishing it. Yall're the best <3

Anyway! On with the show!

Chapter Text

 

 

“So. You want an internship with the Angelic Conservation Trust.” The lady on the front desk raised a tired eyebrow at him.

Sam shuffled from foot to foot on the worn linoleum, glancing around at the faded seventies decor of the reception area. “Yes please, ma’am.” He tried not to sound too nervous, even if he was twisting his fingers together out of her eye line. “Am I in the right place? I’m meant to be here for my interview.”

She laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “Interview? Oh honey,” she glanced down at his paperwork, “you graduated from Stanford, I’ll be surprised if they don’t walk you right through the door after shaking your hand. But yes, you’re in the right place. We need all the interns we can get. I’ll buzz you on through.” She pressed a button on her desk. “Ellen? I’ve got a Samuel Winchester here for his interview.”

“Great! Send him through please,” crackled the speaker.

The lady gestured to the door and Sam nodded gratefully as she buzzed him in. “Second floor, third door on your left, hon!” She called after him.

The rest of the Stanford headquarters of the Angelic Research and Conservation Trust were just as worn as the entrance- not dirty, but the linoleum floors were shiny from the passage of thousands of feet, and the walls which might once have been white had long since faded to a dull beige. Sam took the stairs, his footsteps echoing as he reached the second floor, and followed along the corridor until he reached the door with the plaque reading Dr. Ellen Harvelle . He raised his hand to knock.

“Come on in!” called a voice from inside before he could.

Sam paused, then pushed open the door.

Inside, the room was cramped, but tidy. Specimens and stacks of paper and field equipment filled every available space, leaving only a narrow passage to get from one end of the room to the other. A woman sat at a desk in the far corner, and he smiled and nodded at her as he closed the door behind himself. A large shelf covered one wall, filled with scientific journals and folders of paper. He let his eyes play across the covers as he sat down- A Preliminary Study of Angelic Flock Behaviours, Living With Harpies, Feather Variation in Angelids Across America -

“So you must be Sam. Sorry about the mess. Space is a little tight.”

Sam quickly turned back to face her. Ellen Harvelle was a stern looking woman, her voice rough, her face lined and her silver-streaked blonde hair pulled back, but her lips quirked with knowing amusement. “Go on; take a good look. It’s nice to see someone so interested, honestly. Usually the interns are more interested in gettin’ away from their nagging parents than in any actual angel conservation.”

Sam let himself smile through his nerves, folding his hands in his lap. “Doctor Harvelle, I can assure you I’m not here because my parents wanted me out of the house.”

“Please, call me Ellen. Only the undergrads call me ‘Doctor Harvelle’.” Ellen sat back, inspecting him critically as she pulled out his CV. “So. You want an internship with us. I’m not complaining, Lord knows we need the help, but why us? Why angelic conservation? You were going to be a lawyer. It’s a bit of a career change, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah, I know. But I was in my final year, and things…” things like Dad dying, and Dean having a mental breakdown, “things happened. It got a bit too intense, and, well.” He shrugged it off. “Here I am!”

“But why angels, specifically?” Ellen’s eyes were sharp.

“I don’t know. I’ve never exactly been around them, we never had anywhere near enough money for that, but I remember a few years ago when they first became popular as pets… it always kind of creeped me out, you know? I always thought they were too intelligent. And then celebrities started getting them, and I started to hear about the breeding farms, and the poaching, and the illegal wildlife trade, and…” He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I thought maybe I could make a difference when I was in law, try and get better protection for them, but I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to that for a few years.”

Ellen seemed satisfied with that. “Well, lawyers are always useful, but if you want to start by making a difference on the ground then you’re in the right place. I don’t know about the centre, we’re pretty well-staffed here, but we always need people to help out with the fieldwork at our research stations.”

“Research stations?”

Ellen stood, pointing to a picture on the wall showing a wild-looking landscape of rolling forest with mountains towering in the background. “Yep. We’ve got the largest wild group of Celestials on the west coast. Can’t tell you the location yet, we’ve had to keep that a secret, but there’s some cutting edge world-class research going on out there. Would you be up for it?”

“Sure!”

Ellen laughed at his enthusiasm. “I’m gonna warn you now, fieldwork’s no picnic. You’ll be in tents, cooking over hobs, pissing in bushes and getting bitten by mosquitos for three months straight.”

Well, Sam had never had enough camping trips as a kid anyway. He smiled up at her. “When do I start?”

 

.o0o.

 

Deep in the forest, just as the sun was rising above the horizon and the birds were starting to sing, the alpha stirred. 

He yawned. With one wing he propping himself up on the broad branch of the oak where he’d spent the night, stretching his arms over his head, listening to the rest of his flock stirring in the trees nearby. With a full body shudder, he stretched his wings as far up as they would go, feeling the stretch of tendons and strong muscles before letting them fold against his back, his down fluffing up then settling where it had been disturbed in the night. The light sifting through the leaves was bright- it would be a good day.

There was a chirp from underneath him. The alpha peered over the branch, hooking his wing-claws into the bark so that he could lean out further and see Alfie’s big eyes looking up at him, framed by the juvenile fluff of his faun wings. “Are we going down to the meadow this morning?” the younger angel warbled up. “Please, alpha! Please, Gabriel, can we? I want to watch the wingless!”

Hmm. Good point. It was the third day of seven, and that meant that the wingless monkeys would be sitting in the meadow again. The alpha shrugged, humming deep in his chest with both sets of vocal chords. “If you want.”

The youngster let out an excited whistle and scurried off to tell his clutch-mate, his brown wings flashing as he glided between the branches.

The alpha grinned to himself at his youthful energy and sat up again. They would need to start gathering food this moon-cycle for the breeding season to come, but that wouldn’t be an issue- the wild apple trees had been productive this year, and the salmon weren’t in full spawning season yet. They could afford to take some time to relax in the meadow while the weather was still warm.

He looked out over the forest as he considered the wingless, his mood falling into something more sombre. The rest of the flock might have enjoyed their company, but the alpha was warier. He had seen the wingless ones in his last flock, back when he had only been a beta- he still remembered how they had come in the night and taken his brothers. How they had stank of blood and violence as they had shot his alphas and taken his siblings and his chicks while he hid in the bushes, terrified into stillness.

But that had been a long time ago. Winters and winters, now. He’d been younger, and not alpha yet. 

And anyway, these wingless that liked to come and watch them were smaller, and squashier, and didn’t smell like violence. They chittered at him in their own gabbled noises, but he’d worked out which ones corresponded to him- Gabriel, they called him, or Loki, if he was annoying them. And he annoyed them a lot- it was hilarious to watch their frustration as their foolish attempts to catch him failed. It was so funny to watch their faces scrunch up and listen to the dismay in their guttural honking whenever he slipped out of their latest trap. 

But they didn’t mean harm, so he tolerated them on his territory. For now. 

He leapt off the branch, and three beats of his powerful wings were enough to lift him out of the treetops and into the crisp morning air. Soon, he’d need to start building an actual nest where the flock could spend the nesting season and the winter to come- he could feel the urge slowly building under his skin, the prickle of his mating plumage just starting to emerge, but there was still a little time yet. This year felt different, for some reason.

He could feel it in the air. Something was about to change.