A / N - Destiel AU in which Castiel only exists in Dean's dreams... or so Dean thought. What will happen when the young mechanic begins to see this supposed figment of his subconscious mind when he's awake? Is he hallucinating? Has he finally lost his mind? Or, maybe... good things DO happen.

Dark. Bloody. Horrific. A few weeks ago, these are the words Dean Winchester would have used to describe his dreams.

Dean was a man with a dark past. When he was only four years of age, he watched as a psychotic murderer burned his mother alive. John, his father, had found him in his infant brother's nursery as Mary burned, pinned to the ceiling, her killer already long gone. They rushed out of the house and watched as the fire consumed it. Dean became somewhat of a parent to his brother, Sammy, from that point on. It was them and their dad, a cop whose job always seemed to come before his boys, until a few weeks ago, and Dean couldn't wrap his head around the amount of shit that he had already been forced to endure in his 26 years of life.

It was September 18th, 2008, and John Winchester had been foolishly investigating a development in his wife's murder case alone when he was shot by the same man that claimed Mary's life. Azazel, as the killer had called himself, carved the words "Sammy's next" into John's chest before Jody, John's partner, arrived with backup and arrested the monster.

Dean had been on his way to the hospital to be there for his dad in his last moments when he was hit by a drunk driver. John died while Dean was in the ER.

The doctors had said it was a miracle he survived the crash, which he should have been thankful for. He needed to be there for his brother, who'd flown in from Stanford a day after their father's death and Dean's accident. Sam was his responsibility, even if little Sammy had grown up and gone to college. Still, in the days after the event, Dean had wished the wreck had ended him.

Dark. Bloody. Horrific. This had been Dean Winchester's life thus far, why should his dreams be any different? Every night, since he was four years old, he'd relived his mother's death in gory flashes and chilling screams. After that September day, his subconscious mind decided to throw in images of John's bloodied and torn body. Sam even made his way into a few of the dreams, giving a surreal life to Azazel's promise to take the life of the youngest Winchester. It got to the point where Dean was wary of sleeping at all.

One night, a few weeks after the accident, everything changed.

At 11:52 p.m., when he'd finally drifted out of consciousness, Dean's usual nightmare was replaced with something so foreign, yet so familiar, he was unsure whether to feel terrified or content.

It was beautiful at first. An overwhelming light that Dean could swear he heard. And it kept getting brighter, brighter, brighter until Dean began to see other colors in the white light. It didn't last long before it started to die out with a shrill sound. Dean woke up drenched in sweat, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. After calming himself, reminding himself that it was just a dream, and, for once, not a nightmare, he drifted back to into sleep.

The second dream was different. It was... softer. Pastel lights of every color surrounded him, warming him with their glow. He saw something that his subconscious registered as a human figure in the distance, approaching him slowly. With each step the figure took, Dean failed to notice any distinguishing features. It was like a cloud moving toward him, and, though it seemed abnormal at first, something deep down told him he knew this, this... light. That's right, Dean thought. This is a dream. I've seen that light before. He realized that the light was much softer than before, and as it came closer, he felt himself take a few steps towards it. Before he'd felt threatened by it, now he was drawn to it. Him, something told him. He's real. He has a name. Dean frowned. What's his name?

"Castiel," he heard someone say. Was it the light? Why hadn't it- he, reached him by now? It felt like it had been hours since he'd started dreaming, but like he'd just fallen asleep at the same time. "Castiel," the voice repeated. It was deep, and it sounded as though its owner hadn't spoken for ages, if ever at all.

Castiel... was that its name? Dean wanted to reach out and touch Castiel. He was so close and kept moving closer but never near enough to touch.

Dean woke before the figure reached him. "Castiel," he mumbled mindlessly. "Pretty little glowy thing; Castiel. Huh." He sat up and rubbed at his eyes while he yawned. He blinked a few times and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 7:55 a.m. Shit. Dean had to he at work in 5 minutes. He all but leaped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans as he grabbed his cell and hit the second number on speed dial. "C'mon, Bobby, pick up." He put on a black T-shirt and hopped into his small apartment's kitchen as he struggled to put his socks on.

Charlie, his roommate, was already gone and at work. She'd left a note on the counter that read:

"Out of milk. Left you some pancakes in the microwave."

Sure enough, a stack of homemade pancakes were waiting on a plate in the microwave for him. God, he really loved Charlie.

"Bobby Singer."

Dean jumped, nearly forgetting he had his cell pressed to his ear. "Hey, uh, Bobby... I woke up late."

"That's alright, Dean. Get here when you can." Click.

Dean smiled as he set his phone down. Besides holding the true place of "father figure" in Dean's heart, Bobby was an old friend of John's, and he ran the best auto shop in Lawrence, Kansas. It consisted of a garage and a lot full of old cars on the man's property. When Dean turned 16, Bobby had surprised him with the choice of any car in the lot and invited him to come work as a mechanic. He'd been working there ever since, driving his 1967 Chevy Impala down to Bobby's place five days a week. Well, until it was wrecked. Bobby was letting Dean use the garage to fix up what he endearingly referred to as his "Baby" in his spare time. He was stuck driving a '65 Mustang until the Impala was ready to get back on the road. Which, sure, the 'Stang was nice. But it wasn't Baby.

"Took you long enough."

Dean rolled his eyes, dropping his keys on the desk in the garage. "Shut up, Jo." He took a seat in his chair and spun around to face her. "Aren't you supposed to be at the Roadhouse?"

Jo shrugged. "I took the day off."

With a low whistle, Dean shook his head. "Third in a week, Jo. Ellen's gonna be pissed."

"I think I can handle her," the blonde said, rolling her eyes. "I've been handling her for the past 24 years, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Soon to be 25, am I right?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "Any birthday plans?"

"Mom won't let me hold a party at the Roadhouse." Jo pouted, taking a seat on the desk.

"Pity."

"Yeah, it would've been a hell of a party."

"With who, again?" Dean teased. Ellen and Jo had always been like a mother and sister to him, and he'd be damned if he didn't pick on his little sister at each and every opportunity.

Jo reached over and punched Dean in the arm. "Shut up," she said, "I have friends."

"Uh huh," Dean chuckled. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at Jo. "Dude, I had the weirdest dream."

"Weird?"

"Yeah, as in... not fucking terrifying for once."

Raising a brow, Jo smirked. "That's good, right?"

"Yeah, I'm not complainin' or anything, it was just... weird."

Jo hopped to her feet and pulled up a chair, putting her elbows on the desk and propping her chin up on her hands. "Spill."

With a smirk, Dean sat up. "Okay, so, first it was just a really bright light. Like, I thought I was gonna go blind-"

"Yeah, pretty sure you can't be blinded in a d-"

"And then it got loud," Dean continued, ignoring the comment, "like... there was this noise."

"What kinda noise?"

"I dunno, it was like a piercing sorta... uh... like when you leave the TV on but nothing's playing, y'know that little hum it makes?"

"Um, I guess..."

"It was like that, but, like, really loud. I woke up and I was freaking out."

Jo frowned. "That's it?"

"No, I went back to bed and the light came back."

"Ooh, a sequel. Cool."

"Shut up, I'm talking. You're worse than Sam." Dean put his feet up on the desk, grinning when Jo tried and failed to bat them away. "Anyway, it's not loud this time, and it's not as bright. It was more... soft. Warm." Dean's vision went out of focus as he stared at the wall to his right, frowning. "And then it was like it was talking to me."

Jo raised her eyebrows. "The light?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't just light anymore, it... it was shaped like a person."

"Huh. What'd it say?"

"It, or, uh... he, I guess," Dean didn't fail to catch Jo's amused smirk, her being the only person on the planet who knew he was bi, "shut up. It wasn't like that."

"How do you know?"

"I just... know, c'mon I'm telling a story, here."

"Sorry," Jo chuckled. "Go on."

"I wondered to myself what his name was, but I didn't say anything out loud, and then I heard him say 'Castiel'."

Jo looked at Dean as if he had a third eye. "'Castiel'? Where the hell did your subconscious pull that one from?"

"No idea. I'm more weirded out by the idea that the dude could read my mind."

Batting away Dean's logic with an unamused eye roll, Jo said, "It was a dream, Dean." She scooted closer as she asked, "So, was he hot?"

"He was a light, Jo."

"Was his voice hot?"

"I dunno, damn it!" Dean bit his lip, staring at the laces on his shoes. "Okay, it was pretty hot. It was deep and kinda... wise? Like he knew a lot of shit, y'know?"

"Maybe he does. Maybe it's God," Jo deadpanned.

Dean snorted. "Right."

"I'm kidding. But, hey, that'd be crazy if it was."

"I don't believe in God, Jo, you know that."

Sighing, Jo stood up and adjusted her jacket. "Yeah, I know. I don't blame you."

Dean nodded solemnly. He sighed, then stood. "So, is there an actual reason you're here, other than to keep me from fixing up my Baby?"

"It's my day off," she said, smiling as she took Dean's arm. "And now it's yours, too. I got Bobby to let you come with me."

Dean shot her a skeptical look. "Where?"

"We're going to the mall."

Dean groaned, throwing his head back as the girl pulled him toward her car. "Jo, I'm bi, not gay."

"Wow," Jo frowned, "that wasn't terrible stereotyping at all. Quit jumping to conclusions, anyway. We aren't shopping." She grinned. "I want you to meet someone."

Dean came to a halt. "No, no. Hell no. Last time you dragged me to a blind date, I ended up c-"

"Shut up, Dean. It's for me. I met someone, and I want you to meet her."

Dean quirked a brow. "'Her'?"

Sighing, Jo unlocked her truck and got in, waiting for Dean to get his seatbelt on before saying, "Still processing?"

Dean's jaw dropped. "You... you're-"

"Bi, Dean. Same as you." Jo cocked her head as she buckled up. "Or into her, at least. I don't fucking know," she laughed.

Widening his eyes, Dean relaxed in his seat. "Huh. Nice. That's hot," he smirked.

Jo punched him in the arm as she started up the truck. "That's sexist." She pulled out of the driveway, waving to Bobby who nodded from the kitchen window.

"So," Dean said, "what's her name?"

Blushing as she smiled, Jo said, "Anna."