I sucked in a deep breath, my eyes widening as I processed what he just said.

"Excuse me? A what?!" I whispered, shocked.

An amused expression crossed his face before being replaced with an exasperated one.

"A witch. As in Sabrina, Charmed, whatever that movie was with the girl with red shoes and the dog-" he counted off nonchalantly.

"-The Wizard of Oz?" I asked in confusion.

He waved a hand in dismissal.

"Yeah, that one. Personally, I wasn't a fan of it when it came out," he rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink, " Too many flying mammals,"

I cracked a smile, "They're called monkeys,"

Philippe just made a face in response, shrugging.

"So back to the Familiar thing..." I started and he continued.

"The Master and the Familiar have an unbreakable bond,"

"That's what you meant by loving my mother? You loved her-" I began but he cut me off.

"-like family. She was my only family." he finished somberly.

He was silent then as he glanced down into the bottom of his now-empty cup.

"Your mother was a very gifted witch, you know. One of the most powerful of her generation. To be truthful, I believe even the Council slightly feared her for it," he told me, biting his lip.

"The Council?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He shot me a friendly smile and waved it off as he got up from the couch, leaving his empty glass on the table, "I'll explain on the way,"

Quickly, I got up from the couch and followed after him.

"Where are we going?" I asked, slightly suspicious.

I didn't even know this guy and he wanted me to follow him? He was out of his mind! He whipped around then, an exasperated expression on his face.

"Look, I won't harm you, okay? But this..." he said, glancing around at the crowd before lowering his voice, "This isn't the best place to discuss your mother's...talents."

I nodded, understanding him completely as he grabbed my hand, pulling me through the throng of people. When we got out of there, he helped me into his car and we took off down the road. A few minutes later, we arrived at a small apartment. It was run-down and in a very poor part of town. Not that I minded. I'd grown up in a poor neighborhood myself.

It was nothing to be ashamed of in the least. I got out of the car, slamming the door behind me as I followed him into his house. Philippe led me to the living room and I sat down on a small sofa across a worn armchair which he sat down in himself. He spread his hands out then.

"What do you want to know first, Parker?" he asked me, curiosity in his blue eyes.

I sighed, fidgeting at the hem of my t-shirt. Where to begin?

"Did my mother plan on telling me?" I arched an eyebrow up at him.

He narrowed his eyes but not in an unkind way.

"Of course. She planned on raising you to learn the arts of witchcraft but she passed before she got a chance," he nodded in answer.

I bit the inside of my cheek in thought, listening to him.

"Did she have...magic books?" I ventured and he arched an eyebrow before snickering.

"Now we're getting somewhere. Yes, she did. She had many. I was able to save most of them before your aunt threw them out when she threw me out," he said, walking over to the bookshelf on the back wall, "I had plans of taking you with me as well. It was my job to watch over you,"

I arched an eyebrow, smirking, "Believe me. I can take care of myself,"

He turned slightly, smiling as he brought a book over to me.

"I'm very aware of that, thank you. I just meant as your mother's familiar, she would have wanted me to look out for you,"

"I know what you meant." I nodded and he handed me the book.

It was a leather-bound book, brown and large. The heavy thing stank of dust and I frowned, glancing up at him.

"A cookbook?"

He rolled his eyes.

"A grimoire. She had many but this-" he said, tapping it for emphasis, "-was her favorite."

I ran a hand across it, my fingers grazing over every bump, every tear. It was beautiful. And something within it seemed to hum beneath my fingertips, calling me to it. Philippe cleared his throat from above me and I glanced up in embarrassment.

"You feel it, don't you?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in question, "The magic?"

Slowly, I nodded, "I feel something. It's like...it's like an energy or something,"

He nodded too, "It is. In a way. But you can learn more tomorrow. It's getting late,"

"Oh, yeah," I agreed, just now realizing that darkness had fallen outside, "I better go,"

Philippe shook his head in indifference.

"No, don't. Why don't you stay here? I have a guest bedroom upstairs," he offered.

"But-" I started to protest.

"No, I insist! Please. It's the least I can do," he cut me off, eyes begging me to say yes.

Finally, I relented and sighed, "Okay."

The room was small but served its purpose. A small twin bed sat by the window, thin, white curtains blowing in the breeze created by the gap left open at the bottom. I could hear the faint sound of a Harry Styles song drifting into the room from there. Walking over to the bed, I sat down and sighed as I kicked off my shoes before crawling underneath the blankets. The coolness calmed me down.

"Woke up alone in this hotel room, played with myself, where were you?"

A sigh escaped my lips as my thoughts went careening around in my mind. I wonder what the boys are doing now, I thought to myself.

"Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon, I've never felt less cool,"

I put a hand to my head. I'd had way too much drink tonight and I knew it. My head was throbbing but I ignored it, my thoughts going to Dean now.

"We haven't spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated,"

I missed him so much - his voice, his laugh, those green eyes. Everything. And Sam, too - the way he cared for me, joked around with me, laughed about the silliest things. Now all I had left was this silence, filling up the void and making me feel like I was going insane without them here.

"Why won't you ever be the first one to break? Even the phone misses your call, by the way,"

Biting my lip, I glanced around the place briefly before fishing my phone out of my pocket. The blue light of it lit up the tiny room and I scrolled through my missed calls.

Sam - 54

Bobby - 22

Aunt Grace - 8

I sighed. Still no Dean. He hadn't called me once since I left. I wouldn't admit to anyone how much it hurt that he hadn't. We'd kissed but I guess it had meant nothing to him. Sleep overtook me then as I placed my phone onto the nightstand, my eyes fluttering closed. Off to a dream about Dean again.