Title: Illusions.

Author: CaptainPixie!

Rating: hmm, I'd give it a PG.

Genre and/or Pairing: Dean & Castiel [Not slash, I know I know I'm as surprised as you! ]

Spoilers: 5.04 tag baby, you know it had to happen!

Warnings: well I wouldn't say it was all depressing, I think it's kinda hopeful at the end.

Summary: This isn't going to happen, everything he's suffered, everything he's been forced to live threw. It was all an illusion.

Note's: this didn't turn out how I wanted it to but I think it's not bad and yeah I know after all my bitching about angsty tag's and fic's about this episode I go ahead and write something similar, Meah! so sue me. I blame it on lack of sleep!

Also I ran it threw a spell checker but you know that usually ends in tears for me!

[The lovely moonshooter1 bataed this puppy for me, THANK YOU BABE!!!!!!]

The thing about a camp, the honest to god thing that never really stops, is the movement. It's always moving, always active, because it isn't real. A camp is an illusion of what you need, what you want and crave. It has all the elements of civilization, food, water, people, sometimes even buildings, but it's not real.

Cas sits on the broken down chair outside his cabin. He's lucky, he knows, to have his own place. But then again he's one of the inner circle, the few left who were there at the beginning, plus hello, former Angel. It has, or had, its perks.

It's raining now, a drizzle that's steadily turning into a downpour and even now people are moving from place to place, all in a hurry, all eager to be out of the wet because being wet isn't fun, not any more. It takes far too long to get dry again, and by the time you've dried off, it's usually raining again.

The plume of acid smoke rising from his hand reminds him that he was smoking. The weed is good, some of the best he's had in years, and he smiles lazily as he brings it up to his lips and inhales deeply, the smoke slowly burning its way down into his lungs. He closes his eyes again, waiting for the hit, that feeling of everything becoming heavy and light all at the same time, and then he exhales, the world tilting just a little to the right as he opens his eyes again and stares out at the wet haze.

It's early evening now and he knows there're things he has to do, but he just doesn't care. Not anymore. The world is done. It's rancid, like butter left out in the sun too long, curdling and running off the side.

And yet, it's still better than Hell.

Cas takes another slow, long drag, his head buzzing from the last hit still, and he smiles when he feels a familiar presence ascend the steps to stand beside him. He doesn't acknowledge him, not at first, so he sits and he waits, playing a game that he'd forgotten the rules to long ago.

"Got a lead on the Colt." His voice is lower than it used to be, harsher, and it's not surprising really. But Cas doesn't bother to comment on it as he takes one long final drag from the joint, savoring the way the smoke burns his lungs and makes him think for a few fleeting moments that he's hovering.

"I'm taking Sheldon and Mike. Gonna need you to stay put. A load of refugees came in about an hour back I want you to get 'em settled in." Cas looks up then, something off in his leader's tone. His eye's narrow and for a moment he thinks he catches the briefest glance of the old Dean, the one determined to get the job done, but not on Heaven or Hell's terms. But it's gone just as quick and he puts it down to the weed as he gets up swaying slightly, a goofy grin on his lips as he raps off a two fingered salute.

"Anything you say, oh fearless leader." Cas stares into Dean's green eyes, and there's something there, something different, and for a moment Cas is scared. So his hand reaches into his pocket to pull out the tube of pills he keeps there. He pops two pills, still starring at Dean as his jaw clenches just that little bit tighter.

"You know, if the croats don't get you, the drugs will, Castiel." Spinning on his heel, Dean leaves, running across the compound to his own cabin, and Cas watches him go, a strange white hot burning ache in his chest because in all the years he's known Dean, he has never, ever called him Castiel.

It's then that Cas realizes something.

The world really has gone to hell and there isn't any way to save it.

That's what he thinks as he stumbles into his room, searching for something, anything to drive this new knowledge as far away from him as he can, and when he finds it, he's almost grateful. Almost.

It's barely 12 hours later when the other Dean walks through his door and he feels it in his gut, something he hasn't felt in years. Hope. Then it's barely 24 hours after that when his Dean tells him they are going to kill the devil, and Cas knows he won't be coming back. Not this time.

And it's here, right at the end, with some croat breathing down his neck that he sees the truth of things.

This isn't going to happen, everything he's suffered, everything he's been forced to live through.

It was all an illusion

And he smiles as he does something he hasn't done in years.

Castiel prays.

As he feels the bite of teeth on his flesh and his life slowly ebbing away along with the blood that he's fought so hard for the last five years to keep inside of his body, Castiel prays to a Father he thought had long ago abandoned him

Please Father, let him make the right choice this time.