To my 2 reviewers and 4 persons who have this on story alert, ENJOY! Apologies for any OOC-ness.

Part II

Unfortunately, Dean had been entirely accurate in mentioning that his head often became cluttered. Usually with guilt or worry or anger, quite often all three. And over the years, the number Blair supplied him with gradually disappeared beneath the stresses of being a hunter and trying to save Sammy and going to hell and being involved in a tug of war with angels and demons and being responsible for the deaths of people close to him.

The stuff got to him and festered like a disease with no antibiotic.

When he finally did remember Blair's number, it was entirely unintentional.

He was alone in a motel room in Pennsylvania, pacing over the carpet in frustration. For a while, he'd been considering the idea of saying yes to Michael. There seemed to be no other option left and while it pained him to consider it, he couldn't deny how worn out he felt. Like a punching bag that's seen its fair share of beatings, being kept together only by a sheet of dust and worn stitches.

Dean may have been thirty, but he felt aged far beyond his years. On top of that - though he seldom acknowledged it - his energy was being depleted at an alarming rate. Some days, it felt like he was burning out from the inside, and not just because of the apocalypse. Though he'd die before letting Sammy catch him saying it, Dean wasn't convinced he had that much fight left inside him.

It was while reluctantly accepting this unpleasant thought that Blair's words slipped into his head, knocked loose by his own indecisiveness.

"This is the number you call when the world's gone to hell and you're out of options."

Initially, he brushed the thought away with annoyance. Even if Blair had meant well and been weirdly insistent on him memorizing her number, there was no way she could possibly do anything to get him out of his situation. She'd probably meant him to utilize it if he ever needed money or a place to stay. Not as a means of avoiding the apocalypse.

But, he was becoming desperate. Saying-yes-to-Michael desperate. And something about the way she'd phrased her offer made him reluctant to disregard the idea altogether.

He ended up calling the number without Castiel or Sam's knowledge. They really didn't need to know the desperation he was experiencing. Or that he was considering saying yes. Or that maybe he was crazy enough to put his faith in a woman who in her inebriation, danced in the middle of a country road at two in the morning.

It rang four times before going to voice mail and just like that, the faith in Dean's chest sank like an anchor into the abyss.

Well, that is until he heard the message recorded for the voice mail.

"If you have this number, against my better judgment, I've come to trust you. Don't make me regret it."

Freezing, Dean opened his mouth a few times after the first beep. For as much as he'd hoped she'd answer, he didn't exactly have an elegant speech rehearsed.

"Hey...Blair? I don't know if you remember me, but it's Dean. Dean Winchester. I uh...saved you...sorta about seven-ish years ago. And was kind of a dick about it."

Sighing wearily, Dean sank into the bed, bringing the cell closer to his mouth.

"I need your help. I don't know how serious you were about all that you'd said or if you'd even be willing to...listen. Or if the kind of help I need is something you could even-."

The second beep cut the rest of what he wanted to say, off.

Chucking the phone at his duffle bag, Dean fell backwards on the bed. He didn't feel any better about making the call. For all he knew, she had a new number and was half way across the world. He just wished he'd used it sooner when he'd been in tighter situations.

Though, could it really get any worse than this?

X_x_X_x_X

Not even a full day later, the number he was coming to re-familiarize himself with, unexpectedly called back.

He was sitting in a diner with Sam and Cas, passively listening to their hopeful plans of outwitting Lucifer and Zachariah. The former kept invading Sam's dreams and the latter hunted with his own garrison for them tirelessly. Dean didn't have the heart to suggest his idea. Sam was trying so hard to make up for his mistakes with Ruby, and Castiel...well, the dude was more dedicated to free will than he was at the moment. It was like kicking a puppy you'd intentionally given hope to.

Dean glanced down at the number when his cell buzzed in his hand, nearly choking on his burger when he realized who it was.

"I gotta take this."

He wasn't exactly discrete about his exit, tripping over Sam's confused form in his effort to leave the booth.

Fifteen seconds later and he was locked in the men's bathroom.

"Blair?" he whispered, trying to keep his heart from pumping too loud.

"Dean Winchester," the woman greeted. "What happened to your voice?"

God, she sounded as if they'd met yesterday. It made him want to laugh like the cocky guy he'd been at twenty-three.

"It got deeper?" he answered, unsure of what to say.

"I like it. So, you finally called me. From your message, I'm assuming you're in trouble."

As much as he wanted to, Dean couldn't get the words he wanted, out. He could still be completely misreading the situation.

So, he stayed quiet, staring at a faded green stain on the stall wall.

"You're close to saying yes to Michael?" came her soft inquiry.

"You knew."

He wanted to sound angry. She'd probably known about it the moment she met him. Most likely why she offered her help in the first place.

But to be honest, relief was the emotion that won out. She hadn't said no or turned him away yet. Maybe there was still another option.

"I don't know what else to do," he added, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

Sounding weak wasn't his thing. Though, he got the impression Blair wouldn't mind. She never expected him to call when he'd been living large. This had always been a call to make out of desperation.

"Dean, I need to tell you this before you get the wrong idea in your head," she began. "I never knew you would be put in this kind of situation. As Michael's vessel. Or that Sam would be Lucifer's. Those years ago when you shook my hand, I only knew you to be the righteous man the angels spoke of who would have to be making some difficult decisions. I've checked up on what you were up to every now and again, but it was never my place to intervene unless you asked. I have always kept my cell on, waiting for the day it would get to be too much. Going to hell...that's a fate I'd have done anything to spare you from."

Her voice was devoid of any sarcasm or playfulness. It was honest and serious, almost bordering on regretful. Dean tried ignoring the prickling he felt at the corner of his eyes.

"To this day, I am grateful to you for saving my life. And by giving you my number, I only ever meant to save you back."

Clearing his throat, Dean clarified, "You uh...didn't know about Michael and Lucifer's plan?"

"I've been away from heaven for a long time," she admitted. "Like many, I assumed the angels would try to help you, not hinder. And demons are about as pleasant to work with as shining a boot. I don't...have many close friends, and the ones I do aren't usually concerned with human affairs. The grand scheme of things...I was never interested in knowing them. I only cared about the sun rising each day."

"So, you're an angel?"

"Hardly," Blair denied. "They are blindly obedient to their Father. In a lot of cases, that blindness works against them."

"I don't get it then. What the hell are you?"

She didn't respond immediately.

"Honestly, Dean, it doesn't matter. What you need to know is that I was powerful enough to get you out of your contract with the crossroads demon that sent you to hell."

"Why didn't you?"

Now, his anger took center stage.

"I don't interfere, Dean," she reminded sternly. "Nor does my life center around yours. I had my bad days too that required my full attention. And I never wanted to take this decision out of your hands. You would always be the one to call me, not the other way around. Considering you haven't had the chance to be in control lately, I should hope you'll utilize this moment to the best of your ability."

He couldn't hate her for making sense. Though, it was a screwed up kind of irony that only near the end would he finally have a semblance of control over his destiny.

"Now, tell me what you need and I will do my best to help you."

"I need help preventing the apocalypse without sacrificing my brother."

"Done."

Dean blinked.

"What do you mean done?"

"I mean what I'm about to do will suddenly shift a whole bunch of unwanted attention onto me. And because you waited until the last minute, I can't guarantee my plan will be without its kinks. Actually, I'm sure there will be some sort of obstacle I'll overlook. But you and your brother will both live. I can guarantee that."

"What are you planning to do?"

The three second pause had his stomach twisting into knots.

"Save your life."

And with that, the line went dead.

He tried calling her back numerous times throughout the evening, heart filled with anxiety and hope at the same time. Was she bullshitting or telling the truth?

But, Blair never answered.