Day Is Gonna Come

48. Last Holiday

"Well, that's very progressive," Dean commented. "Uh, okay, well, we don't want any trouble, so you can just leave."

Mrs. Butters' face fell. "Leave? But... this is -- this is my home. Well, I have worked for the Men of Letters since before the war."

"The war?" Seylah repeated, stepping out from behind Dean. "What year do you think it is?"

"1958."

"Oh."

"Oh," Dean repeated. "Well, afraid to tell you, but it's, uh -- it's 2020."

"It..." Mrs. Butters began. "Well... then..." She glanced at a picture. "Well -- Where is Mr. Markham? Mr. Ackers? Where -- where are the rest of the Men of Letters?"

"You're looking at 'em." He pointed to Seylah. "She's a Woman of Letters. The rest of them are, um -- they're dead."

"How?"

"A demon named Abaddon killed them, all of them."

"Oh," Mrs. Butters whimpered, bringing her hand to her mouth and looked at the photo again. "That's why they didn't come back."

Mrs. Butters dusted the bunker library.

She voiced, "When the lads left for the ceremony, I was told to stay behind, guard the bunker. But they never returned. So, to keep the bunker safe, I placed it and myself in standby mode."

Mrs. Butters gasped and dried her eye. "I never dreamed... it would take this long to be reactivated."

"Yeah, we don't totally know everything about this place yet," Sam told her.

"It's kinda been one apocalypse after the other," Dean added.

"Oh, no, it's fine," Mrs. Butters said. "I know how busy your work can be. If you're anything like the others, then it has been an age since you've had a home-cooked meal or celebrated the holidays or-" she stepped closer and waved a hand momentarily, "oh -- ahem -- washed your clothes." She wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, we're not really holiday people," Sam informed.

"It's worse than I thought."

Dean changed the subject. "You said, uh, that -- that we were on standby mode. So, this entire time, we've been operating on, uh, like, half power?"

"The Men of Letters used my magic to give the bunker an extra oomph." She snapped her fingers and a metallic thud sounded.

"Whoa," Dean commented as things began turning on.

"What's that?" Sam asked, hearing a pinging sound.

"Oh. The radar, of course," Mrs. Butters informed.

"We have a... monster radar?" Dean questioned.

Mrs. Butters exhaled sharply. "The chime indicates something relatively nearby. And by the color... it looks to be a nest of vampires." She pressed the glowing red dot and a beep sounded. "50 miles away. 725 Black Drive."

"We have a monster radar."

"Yeah. Well, if you boys hurry, I imagine you can clean out that nest and make it back here in time for supper."

"Oh, hell yeah!"

Mrs. Butters frowned. "Ohh -- Ooh."

"Heck -- Heck yeah."

"All right." She pulled out her feather duster and smiled tightly before walking away.

Dean chuckled, walking to the opposite side of the map table.