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The breath that passed from you to me

Summary:

When Dean Winchester had to stop hunting with his brother for a while to be treated in Waverly Hills tuberculosis sanatorium, he wasn't expecting to meet someone who fought the same creatures as him. It turned out his doctor, Castiel Novak, was also a Man of Letters. And he was also going to become so much more for Dean...

Notes:

I have been interested in the history of tuberculosis in like forever. I always wondered how such a deadly disease, which killed billions of people and deeply influenced our societies, art, and litterature, seems to be almost entirely forgotten.
I had to do a lot of research for this fic, because even if I already knew quite a lot of stuff about TB in my own country (France), I didn't know nearly as much about TB in the US.
I especially read the book "With their dying breath: a history of Waverly Hills tuberculosis sanatorium", by C.C. Thomas, which provided tons of great info.
However, I had to take several liberties with the historical facts to be able to tell my story as I wanted to. I will put notes at the end of the chapters to point them out. Apart from these choices, I tried to be as historically accurate as possible.

I'd like to send a whole bunch of thank yous to my beta @LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch (@procasdeanating on tumblr); as this is a WIP, her work is not done, and I hope she'll stick with me because she has already been of great help.
My sister (@dodo5ever on tumblr) also proof-read and encouraged me, and Chuck knows that I need encouragements!

The title is part of the song "Between two lungs" by Florence and the machine.

Find me on tumblr @dixseptdixhuit ;)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

To Mr Larry Ganem

Men of Letters headquarters

Lebanon, Kansas

Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Louisville, Kentucky

The 20 th of August 1951

 

Dear Larry,

 

As we had agreed upon, I am writing to report my observations after almost three months here at Waverly Hills. The sanatorium is a five-story building, very functional, and it is equipped with all the latest innovations a phthisiologist could hope to find in an establishment that treats about a thousand patients a year. The new antibiotics used for the last few years have brought about a true hope of curing patients who, only a decade ago, would have been doomed in the short term. However, the drugs are not a complete panacea, and sadly we still lose almost a dozen patients each month from this terrible disease.

Consequently, our death rate remains significant enough for paranormal activity to be, as you had suggested, higher than in a standard hospital.
I already observed several phenomenons that indicate a ghost activity. Cold spots are frequent in the patients’ ward, in spite of the high temperatures throughout the summer. I suppose it will be harder to rely on that in the coming months. Unexpected smells are hardly something I can take into account in a medical facility, where they tend to occur for various natural reasons, but the electrical devices are behaving in a way that cannot be explained by deficient installations. Almost all of them – the x-ray machine, laboratory appliances, even the refrigerators – have malfunctioned since my arrival.
The lights flicker on and off almost every other evening in the dining-room, and the janitor has no idea what is causing it. The poor man keeps climbing on ladders to test the light bulbs, without any success so far.

I have specifically asked to be accommodated in the main building, on the floor right under the open-air treatment balcony and the patients' rooms, unlike most of the staff members who have their personal quarters in smaller (but older) buildings in the park, at a short walking distance. This way, I am able to routinely check the corridors at night, and I have caught sight of air disturbances several times.
The most significant event happened last week. I was patrolling the fourth floor and I was turning left to enter the women's ward when I saw, a few feet ahead of me, a white female silhouette entering the nurses’ office. When I reached the room, it was empty and seemed undisturbed, but it was freezing, in a very sharp contrast to the hallway I had just left.

Since this sighting, nothing of importance occurred. I do not think this ghost is posing an immediate threat, but I remain alert about any new development of the situation.

I enclose to this letter a list of the men, women and children who died here in the last year, with the burial location. In case something unfortunate happened, you would still have a basis on which to start your research; but please know that I am not worried and feel in complete control of the situation for now.

Apart from my work as a member of our esteemed society, my life here is quite pleasant, and as a doctor I couldn't ask for a more stimulating employment. Each of the multiple cases is a challenge to fight and vanquish the terrible scourge that is tuberculosis, and the latest discoveries, of which I try to remain informed, are promising. I can only hope that my work will contribute to both my fields of research.

I do hope this letter finds you and all our members in good health. I will write again in a few weeks, or sooner in case of any new developments.

 

Yours sincerely,

Castiel Novak M.D.