Chapter Text
Finding the Supernatural books wasn't hard, but getting all 104 books into his backpack wasn’t fun at all. Stiles was fifty books in when he had to take all his school stuff out. Why the hell did I think this would be ok?
After finally fitting all the books he realised he had to check all of them out; which required taking them out then putting the books back in. I want to bang my head against a wall so bad right now….Fuck it! Snatching up everything that was laid out on the floor Stiles booked it to the checkout counter and practically threw the backpack full of books at the worker sitting there.
“I would like to check out all these books.”
“Sir, do you have a library card?”
Stiles nodded and quickly felt around in his jeans for his wallet. Turning up empty he went for his backpack and found nothing. Shit! Shit! Shit! “If I give you my name could you look me up?”
“Yes. Please give me a moment.” Taking in a deep breath Stiles nodded while taking a second to look around. The other worker at the counter was looking at him in disbelief and when Stiles looked at him confusedly the guy looked away. “Ok sir what is your name?”
“Stiles Stilinski.”
“Psota Stilinski?” Oh God I need a reminder to get that changed.
“Yes,” Stiles said breathlessly, getting back the feeling of banging his head against the wall at hearing his birth name.
“Ok so what are the books you want to check out?”
“The whole series of Supernatural.”
The worker typed a few words into the computer then with a look of surprise and confusion looked back at Stiles. “All 104 books? Sir, that's over the limit of checked out books at once and they would have to be back in a month.”
“If you let me check these out I promise in a month they’ll be back in good condition.”
“You do have a good record of books. I’ll let it happen, but if anything and I mean anything happens then you’ll have to pay.”
Nodding quickly Stiles dumped the books on the counter so they could be checked out.
It wasn’t until Stiles got half way through the first book that the landline rang. Who the hell is calling at this time? Quickly Stiles marked the spot on the page he was on and put the pencil he was using for notes down. He ran down stairs just to realise it was only noon. Scott. Taking a deep breath in and out Stiles picked up the ringing phone. “Hey Scott.”
“Stiles, where the hell have you been?”
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Well you’re at home so I’m eating alone.”
“You can come over. You do have a bike.”
“Sure.” Really just like that? Not even a ‘I got a test’ or ‘What if my mom finds out’?
“The door’s unlocked.”
“See you!” was the last thing heard before the line went dead. Slowly making his way back up to his room Stiles felt tired, but he knew he had to do this. Sighing Stiles checked his phone to see seven missed calls from Scott.
Setting back down at the desk to pick up the book and pencil; he felt it. A sharp pain in his shoulder blades that felt knives digging in. How the hell is it getting worse when I’ve done nothing. Stiles pushed past the pain and went back to the reading and note taking.
Stiles heard Scott come in and run up the stairs. “There better be a good reason for you not to be at school.”
“Happy to see you too Scotty.”
It took a second for Scott to see all the books stacked up on the floor next to the desk. “Why..”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
Scott sat down on the bed and Stiles swivelled around to face him. “So I did more research last night and it led me to these books.”
“Ok so what does books have to do with you being home?”
“I’m getting there. So these books are based or more like retelling of reports? Like when you look up things that are said in the book it’s real, but I mean it has to be fiction right?”
Scott looked at him bewildered. “So these books that have real things in it caused you to skip school?”
“Yes and no. These books are mostly if not 100% true, it's just that it has to be impossible right?”
“What are these books about?” Scott was intrigued at what books would make Stiles forget about school.
“That’s the thing. There about the supernatural if the name gives it away.” Stiles handed him over the book after making sure his spot was remarked. “Read the summary.”
“‘Two siblings from a little town called Jericho, where unmarried men disappear without a trace, go in search of their lost father. The night before graduation, Sam is visited by his estranged brother.’ That doesn’t mean anything .”
“Ok what about this one?” Stiles quickly found the second book and shoved it into Scott’s hands.
“‘Sam and Dean Winchester pose as park rangers to help a brother and sister search for their lost sibling. The Winchester's believe he may have been taken by a Wendigo.’ I don’t get what you are trying to say.”
“I looked up the town reports and windigos. Everything matches up, even the report some guy gave about how two brothers saved him.”
“Ok so it's based on true stories.”
“But how does someone publish a book about that not even a day after it happens. It took two days for the report to reach the news.”
Stiles could tell Scott wanted to believe, but just couldn’t put it all together. “Why don’t you just hang out while I get this done. At the rate I’m going at, it's going to take me about two weeks to read and a long while to research.”
The rest of the day went smoothly besides Scott asking questions about the book every ten minutes. Stiles finished the first book and had half a page of notes down when he took a break to eat. At the end of the day Stiles was ¾ the way done with the second book and had a whole page of notes. “Stiles I’m home!” The clock read five and Stiles realised how much the time went.
“We’re up here dad!” Looking back over the notes Stiles heard his dad walk up the stairs.
“Is there something you-” Noah stopped taking in the sight of Scott passed out on the bed and the books next to the desk. When did Scott pass out? I didn’t even realise he stopped asking questions. “I don’t even want to know. What do you want for dinner?”
“Burgers, I guess.” Noah nodded and walked back down stairs to make dinner.
Stiles got the rest of the second book done by the time dinner was ready. As he was about to leave the room he remembered Scott. “Scott,” Stiles said, nudging him. No response. “Scotty!” With that Scott opened his eyes slowly.
“What time is it?”
“5:30. Now come on, let's go eat.” As Stiles relaxed he heard the noise again, wings ruffling, and for a quick second his shoulder blades rested with a comforting knowing weight.