Title: Just This Side of Okay
Author: ColorMeContented
Disclaimer: Supernatural and pretty much everything here belong to their respective owners. All I have is the plot.
Rating: M because of stressful situations? Is that a thing? I just don't want kids reading this kind of angsty shit.
Warnings: AU, Fluff, booze, swearing, blasphemy and the like, violence and emotional distress
AN: I got super bored in history class and wrote this but I'm no historian so I'll come right out and say that I may or may not have twisted some of the facts of life in the camps for the sake of the story. Sorry if you're sensitive about historical accuracy, please try to enjoy and review anyway!
Chapter One: Welcome to Hell
Dark gray nimbostrati rolled lazily, low over the caravan of mud slathered busses of which the lorry occupied by one Castiel Novak was a part. Every few minutes or so the lighting would flash, illuminating his face. The shine glinted evilly off the glasses sitting low on his nose as he stared out the window and wondered how anyone could have decided that Oregon was a good place to set up home.
He winced at the sharp low growl of thunder and shut the neglected copy of The Collected Short Stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald that rested in his lap; he'd read the same paragraph fourteen times but kept getting distracted.
It was night out, which perhaps may have not been so ominous had it not been raining and thundering and had the bus not gotten stuck in the mud a few miles back and the boys had to dig it out. Castiel had thought his shoes would never dry but as he wiggled his toes in his socks he smiled slightly to himself, glad that he'd managed to snag the only seat next to the small heater.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the boy next to him. The guy looked like he was twelve and was covered head to toe in slowly drying mud, curled on his side and with his thin jacket draped over his shoulders. Castiel glanced at his own rich coat strewn haphazardly on the floor and sighed. He plucked it up and tossed it on the other boy who simply grunted a thanks in his fatigue induced slumber. Castiel's coat would get muddy but his seatmate was wet and cold and had no means by which to warm himself.
Castiel leaned his elbows on the windowsill and his head on his hand, 'better to set up a good reputation right off the bat', he thought.
The boys on these busses had nothing, except maybe a family of too many people and not enough money to support it. Not all of them were runaways like he was but the Civilian Conservation Corps hadn't cared, where he was going no one cared about your past so long as you got along with your co-workers and did what you were told.
President Roosevelt had instituted the CCC as a part of his "New Deal for the People" in order to end the Depression and pump money back into the economy and Castiel had to agree that it was a damn good idea. Hundreds of thousands of boys (and some girls) across the country flocked to CCC camps to work with the promise of thirty dollars a month and three square meals a day hanging over their heads. The boys built bridges and trails, planted trees and fought fires, Castiel had laughed when he first heard the CCC boys referred to as Roosevelt's tree army.
Castiel jumped slightly as lighting struck the earth not a mile away immediately chased by another bout of thunder. The boy next to him shot up in his seat, throwing both jackets off his body. He was skinny as a rail, pale as shit, and tall with a long nose and nerdy features, he definitely didn't belong in a work camp.
The boy glanced around a moment before he noticed Castiel watching him. He grinned though the mud slathered on his face and held up the other boy's coat. Cas took the coat and the guy extended to him his hand.
"Hey thanks for the cover man, I can't tell ya how many times I damn near froze to death on one-o-these busses. I swear they think we're made'a steel or somethin' I bet if 'ol Roosevelt heard 'bout all these bad conditions he'd be right hoppin' mad. I'm Garth by the way, how'dya do?"
Castiel put on an amiable grin and took the boy's hand, "Castiel Novak, how old are you Garth?" the boy's grin faltered a moment and he glanced over his shoulder. He removed his hand from Castiel's grip and covered his mouth a bit and leaned in so he could whisper.
"Don't go 'round tellin' on me ta ev'ryone okay? I'm only fifteen but ma folks got too many kids ta feed 'n I'm the only boy. Ran away ta help ma sisters 'n my ma 'n pa, gotta keep the farm. We been share croppin' in Oklahoma since my grandpa was my age…" he trailed off with a sad look in his eye before his eyes met Castiel's and he pepped right back up. "What's yer story then?"
Castiel smiled in earnest at his new friend, not bothered all that much that he couldn't get a word in edgewise. He didn't much enjoy talking anyway. He was glad to have met this guy who was a year younger than the enrolment age and would obviously do anything for his sisters and parents. He only wished that his family were the same way.
"I'm eighteen and don't worry, as far as I'm concerned you're old enough to be here. My parents were big time bankers on Wall Street when the market crashed and we lost everything. I'm just here to put food on the table for my little sister Anna." He smiled through the half-truth as the bus jerkily slowed to a stop. Castiel squeaked as Garth practically crawled over him to see out the window, Castiel looked past his new friend to see just what all the commotion was about.
Everything was soaking wet and a mix of forest green and muddy reddish brown. The other busses had already began to drop off the boys who marched in orderly single file lines beneath the large sign announcing that they had arrived at "Camp Z-zag," one of the CCC's many work camps. There were hundreds of old and new log cabins across the campus and Castiel could still see where others were soon to be erected. One large building in front and center bore the title "Mess Hall" and Castiel vaguely wondered how such a mediocre building could accommodate all the workers.
"It's beautiful!" Garth exclaimed as he leapt from his seat, dragging Castiel with him. Cas felt a pang of guilt in his gut at hearing that this mud hole was a thing of beauty to his dustbowl dwelling workmate, he could only imagine what home looked like.
The bus doors opened and the other boys began filing out only the mud slicked road. Castiel glanced at the other boys, some of whom were missing articles of clothing, and realized that he was the only one there who actually had luggage. Lightning flashed again as Cas settled in a like with an excited Garth bouncing up and down behind him. The dim light allowed him the opportunity to see many of the officers patrolling the lines and a small ditch off to the right were six or seven boys worked feverishly to saw a log in half, two manned the saw, four moved the already severed stumps and one stood on a bit of a ledge, flailing his arms and shouting orders.
They looked so in control, such pride and purpose in their work, Cas thought, there wasn't a bit of uncertainty about them as they trudged through mud and muck like it was nothing, muscles straining against the resistance of the saw and weight of the fallen tree and the leader… Cas suddenly decided he was the best part of the scene, his men didn't question a word he said and with complete trust carried out their orders. It didn't hurt that he was damn easy on the eyes either.
"Oh, sorry." Cas mumbled, the line had moved forward a bit and he with it but hadn't noticed them stop, causing him to collide harshly with the back of the guy in front of him. The guy – lithe and wiry though he was – whirled angrily around and stooped down to Castiel's height with a sneer.
"Watch where the hell you're going next time, eh fucker?" Castiel raised an eyebrow at this, not used to being addressed with such profane language. Unfortunately that's not how the guy took it. His hand launched out to bunch in the collar of Castiel's faded blue polo, jerking him forward so hard that Cas' glasses nearly flew from his face and he was sure he'd gotten whiplash.
"You think I'm trying to be funny kid?" the boy lisped slowly, perhaps Cas would have laughed had he not been about to get his ass handed to him.
"Oi, leave 'im alone dude, he said he was sorry." Garth stepped forward and placed a hand on the guy's arm, causing him to let go of Cas' shirt, "Just put 'im down man, we're only here to work." Castiel shot Garth a silent 'thank you' as the guy backed up. He nudged the guy in front of him in line and sneered again.
"Can you believe this Zach? These pipsqueaks think they can just get away with bumping into people around here whenever the fuck they want."
Cas' eyes widened behind his glasses as who he'd assumed to be Zach turned around. He towered over all three of them and was twice as large.
"Is that so?" Zach grinned and raised his bearlike fists, popping his knuckles in anticipation, "Waddaya say we teach 'em a lesson then?"
"My thoughts exactly."
The guy with the lisp raised his fist and brought it down hard. Cas didn't even have the chance to react before Garth was in front of him, taking the blow and stumbling back, clutching his bleeding nose.
Castiel thrust his arms out, catching his fumbling friend. He checked Garth's nose, finding it unbroken, before throwing his own fist. It collided with lisp's chest and left no impact whatsoever. Castiel recoiled in horror as the guy began to laugh hysterically, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back. Cas pushed up his glasses nervously and shoved Garth behind him, preparing to take his beating with dignity. Why the hell did he even try?
"Damn!" lisp chortled to Zach, "It's not gonna be any fun beating the shit out of this guy at all." He grabbed Cas' shirt again and cocked his arm back for another blow, "But that don't mean I won't try!"
"Hey you two, no fightin' in line!"
Castiel hadn't realized that his eyes were closed and opened them to see a gruff looking old man with a cap on his head jogging over to them. Lisp immediately released his collar, hissing vulgarities through his teeth, obviously pissed that he'd been caught.
The old man stopped in front of them, glaring angrily at both Castiel and lisp. Castiel had since forced Garth to tilt his head back and pressed his own jacket to the wound which was apparently the sign of a good kid because the old man turned to lisp with a slight growl.
"What's yer name boy?" he demanded.
"Alistair." Cas could have laughed at how small the bully sounded when confronted with authority.
The old man jabbed a pudgy finger in his face, "We don't tolerate shitheads like you here son. You'd best clean up yer act or you'll be on the first bus outta here."
"Yes sir." Alistair mumbled, hanging his head and glaring out of the corner of his eye at Castiel.
The old man turned to Cas and Garth. "Names." He barked.
"Garth Fitzgerald the fourth."
"Castiel Novak."
The corners of the old man's eyes crinkled as he smiled, "Well Castiel and Garth I think it best we get you two to the nurse," he turned over his shoulder and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Dean!"
Immediately the leader of the group of lumberjacks Cas was watching earlier abandoned his work and scrambled up the hill. He grinned past the mud covering his entire body. Castiel suddenly noticed that, though it was below fifty degrees out, he wasn't wearing a shirt.
"What's up Bobby?" he asked as he trotted up rubbing water out of the greenest eyes Castiel had ever seen and flashing a smile that damn near knocked Castiel on his ass.
"I want ya to take these recruits over to first aid and patch up the funny lookin' one." He jacked his thumb over his shoulder at a small house with a sign on the door that read 'medic,' "'n give four eyes here a cookie for bein' fool enough to punch that other guy 'n not getting' himself killed."
Dean let out a snort laugh at this and placed a hand on Garth's shoulder, guiding both he and Castiel away from the line. When they were far enough away that Bobby could no longer hear them Castiel looked up at their guide, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
"Won't we get to check in?" he asked. Cas may have taken a bit longer than warranted in watching the small smile grow on Dean's lips.
"Don't worry about it man, Bobby'll take care of it. He's not one to let any of us fall behind ya know?"
Castiel nodded as though he did know as the trio arrived at the medical house. Dean wrenched the door open to let them in, the house had settled in such a way that the door dragged across the front step when it swung outwards.
Garth mumbled a quiet 'thanks man' as Cas helped him onto the raised bench meant for patients as Dean rummaged around in the drawers hunting for supplies.
Once again Cas wondered how a single first aid house could accommodate so many people.
"People don't get hurt much here, not seriously anyway." Dean said over his shoulder in answer to Castiel's unstated question. He emerged from the myriad drawers with a triumphant 'ah-ha' when he finally found the tape he was looking for. He took a seat on the stool in front of Garth, removing Castiel's coat from his face and beginning to patch up his nose.
"So who are you guys anyway?" Dean asked suddenly. Cas looked over at him with an eyebrow raised before he remembered that it was that particular expression that had gotten him in trouble in the first place. He settled on a frown.
Under any other circumstance and coming from anyone else he may have thought the question rude but Castiel simply shrugged.
"I'm Castiel and that," he said as he nodded towards his friend, "is Garth."
"You from the same town or something?" Dean probed as he slapped Garth's hand, discouraging the boy from rubbing at his injury.
Castiel shook his head, "No I'm from New York, we met on the bus and then I decided to pick a fight with some bruiser and this guy just stepped right up to get punched in the face. I guess that makes us friends now."
Dean laughed at that as he laid the last bandage on Garth's nose before standing and crossing the room to peer at a wall covered in lists and other various documents.
"NYC huh? Where you from?" he asked Garth.
"Oaklahoma." The boy choked through the tissues plugging his nose.
"Ah, dustbowl, that's harsh man. I'm from Kansas myself," he removed a few leaflets from the wall, obviously looking for something, Castiel could only guess what, "My brother and I came up here for the work you know, got a family to support back home."
Castiel's stomach dropped suddenly and he fought hard to keep the shock from his face. It was bad enough that he was a runaway and had already made an enemy at the camp; he didn't need to broadcast his homosexuality to the whole camp. They'd kill him.
Despite his supposed caution Castiel shrugged, "Too many kids huh?"
Dean's head snapped to the side to look at Castiel, first looking shocked but that expression melted quickly into a crinkle eyed grin that slightly reminded Castiel of Bobby.
"No way, I'm only twenty, dude. I got a mom a dad and a baby brother hurting for food, I figured what the hell, they give us thirty a month and we keep five right? That's fifty dollars a month for my folks plus work for me and Sam and as many night school courses as I can stomach." He shrugged, "it was the best deal we'd seen in our lives – ah, there it is!"
Dean snatched one paper from the wall and turned to face Garth and Castiel who was still recovering from the amount of personal information Dean had just slapped him with.
Dean's eyes scanned the paper as he excitedly read from it. "Castiel Novak and Garth Fitzgerald the fourth, cabin five thirty-one." He looked up at the other boys and grinned, "You two lucky bastards are roomin' with me!"
Castiel smiled politely despite the rational voice in the back of his head jumping up and down and telling him to high tail it the hell outta there before he did something stupid.
"That's great Dean." He said.
Well fuck.
