Word: Wanderlust
...
"The spell that was put on Stiles can only be removed by the witch that cast the spell! It's unlikely that he will undo the curse now that he's dead," Deaton said, looking as angry as anyone had ever seen the usually-calm Druid.
"I thought that killing the caster would undo whatever spell he'd done," Peter said, sounding as meek as he possibly could while covered in blood.
" This isn't Harry Potter, and in the real world, magic doesn't stop because the caster is dead. This could be for life," Deaton said, taking hold of Stiles as he tried to leave again, sitting him on the chair in front of him. "I know it must be difficult, Stiles, but just sit still a little longer."
Stiles made a noise of protest, his eyes glazed over as he fidgeted under Deaton's hold.
"I thought it was just wanderlust? That doesn't sound so bad," Scott said, looking uncertain nonetheless.
"Normally it's fine, but a spell for wanderlust is a lot more than a simple desire to travel: it becomes a compulsion. Stiles may be able to fight the spell for short periods of time - perhaps even a few months if he's able to develop his own powers as a spark - but he will constantly feel the need to travel in order to ease the spell's pull on him."
"So, we set him loose in the preserve every few days to walk around?" Isaac asked, confused.
"No, the preserve won't be enough. The strength of this spell requires much longer distances," Deaton said, holding Stiles down again.
"You're not just talking interstate, are you?" Stiles asked weakly, looking up at Deaton.
Reluctantly, he shook his head and confirmed the worst.
"Now, wait just a minute. How do you know it's not going to just fade with time? Give him a couple of months to travel around the country and then we'll see what he's like," John said, hoping that Stiles' stubbornness would work in their favour for once.
"It won't be, Dad. I already feel like I need to get out of California, and it's only been three days since I was hit with the spell. It's driving me insane," Stiles added, scratching his arm.
"What about other witches? Surely someone out there knows how to break this?" John asked, turning to Deaton.
"Perhaps, but it's not just knowing. It takes a great deal of magical strength to break another's spell. New Orleans would be a good place to start, and it should help ease Stiles' need to travel," Deaton suggested.
"He shouldn't go alone," Peter said suddenly, looking to his Alpha.
Scott nodded determinedly and stepped forward.
"You can't go, Scott. You need to protect Beacon Hills," Stiles said. "And don't you even think about it, Dad. You just want to go on a road trip so you can eat as much junk food as you want. I'm on to you, old man. Besides, you need to make sure the witch's coven doesn't come looking for revenge," he said, looking over to Deaton's examination table.
"I'll go," Derek offered. "If we take the Camaro, we'll get there faster than in your old Jeep," he added with a slight grin.
"You leave Roscoe alone; she would've got me to the next town."
Deaton was quiet as the others helped Stiles and Derek plan their trip. Peter didn't look pleased, and Deaton had his suspicions about the wolf, about how he'd found the witch so fast when not even Scott had been able to follow his scent, and about his sudden suggestion to have Scott leave with Stiles.
When the plans were finalised and contact details for several witches in New Orleans provided, Deaton kept Stiles and Derek behind as the others left. When they were alone, he suggested they go the opposite way than what they had planned. Neither was happy about deceiving the others, but both eventually agreed.
Instead of leaving next week like they had planned, Stiles convinced his father that he needed to leave the very next day. Derek picked him up from the Stilinski residence less than an hour later, and after hugging his father so tightly they couldn't breathe for a few seconds, Stiles got in the car with his bag and they were gone.
New Orleans provided several leads and they travelled to various witches across the US for five months. Stiles started to get antsy as the urge to go anywhere felt like it was literally burning in his veins. Derek worried and hardly slept, constantly watching Stiles to make sure he wouldn't take the keys and leave whatever shitty motel they were in just to keep moving (he'd caught him trying to do that the week before). Stiles started taking sleeping pills, discovering that the urge wasn't so bad if he was medically unconscious at night, though he still managed to toss and turn in his sleep unless Derek held him down.
When news came that someone in France could help, Stiles almost collapsed in relief. Derek put the Camaro in storage and booked them a flight to France via Iceland. Stiles told his Dad what was happening, and while John sounded pleased that they were getting somewhere, the fact that Stiles was succumbing to the spell worried him as well. Derek promised to look after Stiles, which probably shouldn't have reassured John as much as it did.
On the plane that afternoon, Derek looked at the man he'd come to care for more than any other in the world. Stiles drooled on Derek's shoulder in his pill-induced sleep, and Derek smiled at him fondly, ignoring the wet patch easily enough. He knew that he would do everything in his power to ensure that Stiles survived, and as long as he was wanted, Derek would never leave Stiles' side again. If that meant they had to travel around the world for the rest of their lives, so be it.
...
End of word challenge.
Thanks for reading!
