Scott frowned and pursed his lips in a childish pout, something even a werewolf nature couldn't take away from him. “It doesn't matter, man. I don't even know why you're burying them,” Scott mused, flipping through the pages of Lycanthropy and You before something caught his attention and he started grinning amusedly at one of the pages. Stiles stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead. once the hole seemed deep enough, he leaned on his elbow to lean on the wooden handle for a moment to admire his work. He smirked and tossed the shovel aside in an absent-minded motion, placing it next to the pile of dirt resulting from his efforts as he crouched down to pick up the various books of magic and myth until he unceremoniously tossed them one by one. in the hole. It was a hot summer night and it smelled of intoxicating humidity, enough to make beads of sweat come out with minimal effort. They were a few hundred yards behind the skeleton of the Hale house, in a grove of tall ash trees, fiddling with the light of a crescent moon above. Or at least Stiles was groping around, without the help of his wolf abilities and his x-ray vision, or whatever bizarre thing was going on in there. Stiles tore some rabbit-eared sheets from Wolfsbane and other handy herbs and crumpled them up before throwing them into the pit. , deciding immediately afterwards to leave the entire book on it. The number of books he had collected was enormous, and it took a few trips in the Jeep before he and Scott rounded them all up and took them down into the woods. Being the only human in a bunch of supernatural beings left you with little room to save the day or destroy the city, so he found his own way to be useful. Stiles had warped into a veritable well of knowledge... in the middle of paper... history as he lay in the dirt for a while next to his half-full hole and pathetic attempt to bury the memories. He felt the cool air of the plains coming up the hill towards him, sweeping the sweat away from his face and chest as he grew accustomed to the quiet rhythm of his breathing. He wasn't as upset as he should have been, abandoned. in the earth by his dearest friend who was slowly moving away from him. He thought Allison out of the picture meant more time for the brothers, but increasing pressure from Alpha-Scott and college applications drove them further apart. He was sad, but not destroyed. If anything, he felt slightly more at peace than he had in the months leading up to the whole Darach calamity. He inhales, exhales, pushing another breath into the ether as he slides his arms behind his head, cushioning him as he feels his eyes close. the quiet of the night.