So I thought I'd start posting what little I have of this AU—I will be updating very sporadically. Enjoy!

Sam adjusted the Aquarius star pin on his lapel.

This was going to be a voraciously fun day.

The Men of Letters had caught wind of a laboratory that used supernatural beings as test subjects. Under the statutes created by the Letters, monsters and mythical creatures were protected species. The lab was being shut down permanently.

Teams had been entering the lab for days already, rounding up staff and examining the wellness of test subjects—who had been previously confined to cages.

This was why Sam was here. His visit to the lab, his formal interviews of staff and subjects, would quantify the unethical practices of this test site, ensuring its owners wouldn't escape prosecution.

Sam entered the dingy building, taking in its unassuming facade. Whoever was behind this monstrosity must have gone to great lengths to keep it hidden. He shuddered at the thought of the creatures here—innocent or not—being subjected to all manner of cruel and inhumane tests.

At least they had someone on the other side of the law to fight for them. Something Sam had never had for himself.

One of Sam's associates met him in the entryway. Sam greeted him with a terse smile. "What have you got, Max?"

Max shook his head, uncharacteristically sober. "It's bad, Sam. Human rights violations oozing out of every orifice. I don't think we've seen anything like this since—" He cut himself off, biting his lip and eyeing the ground.

Sam ignored his obvious discomfort. "Go on."

"We held off on interviews until your team got here, but they've picked up bits and pieces. The general consensus is that the, uh…test subjects were taken from public spheres. They led civilized lives—most of them never hurt a human, so they had no reason to hide."

"Who took them?" Sam murmured, half to himself. Who would be so callous?

"Our tech guys are still working on it. All the files pertaining to ownership and funding are heavily encrypted." Max leaned in conspiratorially. "Between you and me, this op smells kind of...British."

"That wouldn't surprise me." Sam rolled his eyes at the thought of their "sister" organization across the ocean. "Have tech put Ms. Middleton on those encryptions; she's the best we've got. And I'd like to start with meeting some of the victims—test subjects."

"Sure. Just keep in mind, some of 'em are…kind of twitchy. You know, after being locked up."

"Oh, I understand that." More than anyone, Sam understood.

"They're sorted out roughly by species—just to prevent any infighting. But mostly they're just hungry.

"We've put them in waiting rooms, test rooms, anywhere that's not in a cage. Although I hear there's one who won't come out of his cage."

"Hang on." Sam slowed to halt, raising one hand. "There's somebody still in a cage?"

"Yeah, a little kid with wings. I don't know what they did to him, but he won't budge for us."

"With...wings," Sam repeated. "Visible wings?"

"Yep."

"What is he?"

Max shrugged. "Wings have everybody thinking celestial, but he's got no grace. My team checked. Either they took it all out of him, or he's something else entirely."

"You ever heard of anything with wings that wasn't celestial?"

"Never. But hey, I'm the magic guy, not the lore guy. They don't pay me to learn monster phylogeny."

"Okay. Put the interviews on hold until my team gets here. I'm gonna go check out this kid with wings."

…

The laboratory was a little shop of horrors—without any of the charm.

Sam passed room after room, catching glimpses of equipment and tools he couldn't linger on without feeling ill.

Groups of liberated test subjects were clustered in rooms, all wearing lab gowns and shock blankets. Letters teams from local offices handed out water—or blood, depending on the monster. Pairs of hollowed, hungry eyes followed Sam as he passed by their doorways. He could see the question in their eyes—always the same one when they saw him. Had the big, official man in the suit come to liberate them or send them back to their cages?

He pasted on what he hoped was a reassuring smile, although his head swam with troubled thoughts.

Max had said a kid. Meaning a child. How did these sick scientists get their hands on a child? A child with wings, at that. Surely they wouldn't stoop so low as to…

No, Sam thought. It's easy to find a supernatural kid, if you look in the right places. After all, they'd found him easily enough.

The rooms weren't labeled, only numbered. Sam stopped a tech and asked her to show him to the cages. Judging by her expression, she knew exactly what—who—he was looking for.

A small group of handlers clustered around the door. Frustration was evident in their postures, from multiple attempts and failures. They stepped aside for Sam gladly.

The cage was the last in a long row, in the corner of the room. All the others had been emptied, giving the room a hollow, haunted feel.

As Sam approached, the cage rustled with movement. The boy inside huddled against the back wall, as far away from Sam as possible.

The cage, which only came up to Sam's torso, was marked with a simple label: Sub. N, b. 2012.

According to the birthdate, this kid was eight years old. He didn't look older than five.

He was clad only in a pair of shorts, so Sam could see every inch of his tiny, misused body. His protruding ribs, the scars on his skeletal arms and legs…

And the limp wings protruding from his back.

They were bare, hardly any feathers still attached. Smears of blood and puckers from old wounds covered the pale pink skin. Sam was reminded of a chicken, plucked and ready to roast.

His face was turned away from Sam, hidden beneath one trembling hand and his thick, overgrown hair.

Sam's heart began to race. What had they done to this…this child? He'd heard words thrown around as he'd passed Letters teams in the halls—stress tests, toxin experiment, starvation regimens. No wonder this little boy didn't want to emerge from his cage—his shelter of safety. There was no telling how long he'd been there, or what horrors he'd been subjected to.

Sam squatted on the floor, eye level with the kid. He forced a casual, conversational tone. "Hi there."

The kid flinched at the voice, but otherwise gave no reaction.

"You must have had a pretty rough time in here, huh?" This wasn't the first trauma victim Sam had dealt with. He kept his voice gentle, as nonthreatening as possible.

"My name's Sam. What's your name? What do they call you?"

He was trembling. Every inch of him, even his wings, shook with fear.

"You don't have to be scared anymore. Everything's going to be okay. You see all these people?" Sam gestured to the group of handlers, all gathered around the doorframe. Curious to see whether his efforts would work.

"They're here to help you. They're here to take you out of this place, where nobody can hurt you. Do you understand? No one's going to hurt you, ever again."

The trembling eased—just slightly. His head lifted a minute degree, his fingers parting just enough to peek at Sam.

Sam couldn't hide his smile of relief. At least the kid understood speech. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"I know you're scared. I get it. I know. But it's over. You're safe."

The boy blinked once behind his fingers.

Sam smiled encouragingly, becoming acutely aware of the discomfort in his knees. (He should have knelt on the floor—sat down. Anything but squatting.) "That's right. You're safe. Now all you have to do is come out and let these people look at you." One hand reached out, stretching toward the opening in the cage. Toward the kid.

Immediately the boy recoiled, doubling back into his tightly curled position of defense. His wings, which had been hanging limp behind him, shot up between his body and Sam. A protective shield, hiding him from the rest of the world.

This time, Sam was the one to flinch. "I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—I'm sorry. Sorry."

He could hear little gasps of air in and out, in and out, behind those wings. The little kid was panicking, and it was all thanks to Sam.

Hot shame flooded him as he realized he'd failed. He couldn't connect with this kid—not with such minimal effort.

"Listen," he panted in the direction of the kid, still hidden behind his pink, bloodied wings. "I'm sorry I scared you. I would never—I'm not trying to scare you."

Nothing. No response.

"I'm gonna leave now. I'll leave you alone, but I'll be back, okay? Just, uh…just sit tight." He cringed at his awkward words. They didn't sound professional or scholarly, two things Sam was supposed to be.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never be quite as smooth as his brother.

With, predictably, no answer from the kid, Sam got to his feet with a groan. If he wanted to help this kid, he needed more than a sympathetic demeanor. He needed to know more about him—what he was, where he came from.

Time to do some research.

Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts in a review. I'm on tumblr too, hop over and say hi!