“Yeah, you're okay though?” Dean asked, staring out at the distant flashes of laser blasts.

  “I'm fucking pissed, Dean.” He held back a sigh and rested his forehead against the glass of the window. “I should be out there helping fight off whatever monstrosity is wrecking the city. But I'm stuck at home like a fucking cripple because of her, waiting for a medevac call that isn't coming.”

  “You've got an appointment with Scapegoat in a few hours,” he replied as calmly as he could, gaze rising to the red horizon. “Then you'll be okay, you'll be able to fight again, and I'll be right behind you.”

  “It'll be over by then,” Vicky retorted, the speaker adding a buzz to her harsh tone. “She's still fucking with me even now, it's not fair!”

  “I'm sorry Vicky,” Dean said. He didn't have anything else left. “I'm gonna go, see if I can get some sleep before heading in. You know they'll put me straight back on duty.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. There was a beat of silence, then she came back, quieter. “Sorry. Thanks for listening Dean I...you're the only one I can talk to about this.”

  “You could talk to Dr. Yamada or--”

  “We've been over this,” she cut him off. “I'm not telling her about...that.”

  “Okay.” He knew better than to fight this. “I'm happy to listen any time Vicky, I love you.”

  “I love you too Dean.” She sighed. “See you soon.”

  The line clicked and he stuffed the phone into his pocket as a mushroom cloud bloomed over several highrises. The window rattled against his forehead and he pushed himself off it. He meant it, being happy to listen to the woman he loved. It was why he'd taken a call this early, when he couldn't sleep from stress and she couldn't being on standby. He was just...so fucking tired.

  These days everyone seemed to be taking their pound of flesh, all at once. His Wards were demoralized and exhausted, but there was no end in sight to the chaos of the city. His girlfriend had been mentally raped by her sister, and said sister was still around and still at work, making things that much harder. And then there was his newest Ward.

  Lia was a fucking conundrum. Her behaviour made no sense to Dean, and he had the power to see why she felt like doing things. Well, it started to add up when she'd told him about the apparent source of her precognition. Even that didn't make her frankly insane decisions make sense. Going from not wanting to join, to joining and wanting to make a difference, to fucking leaving in the middle of a disaster, to coming back and just...falling back in line.

  And why? Dean couldn't fault her motivation, really. According to Victoria, she'd been there when she woke up mostly healed, her head fixed. Lia had explained what needed to be done, but hadn't helped any more. Vicky hadn't said anything about it, but Dean had his doubts Amy would have been able to do as much as she did alone.

  A blue column of light, wider than and laser blast he'd seen, speared down from the sky. A red glow lit the room behind him, but he took a deep breath and closed his fist, snuffing it out. That had been an outlet he really didn't want to get into. Dean had been neglecting his therapy, cutting visits short or finding excuses to be busy. It wasn't healthy, wasn't sustainable but...he just needed space.

  And of course he couldn't even find it at home. Turning away from the window didn't help, Dean just watched the flickering lights on the wall. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, walking over and laying down on his couch. He grunted and sat up, adjusting a pillow so he could prop up his cast, then laid back down and shut his eyes.

  He really ought to see a doctor. He'd been getting nasty headaches lately, and awful night terrors that had him up early almost every morning. He hated waking Vicky up too, part of why he hadn't wanted her over when he was trying to rest. The one time she'd been over, she'd spent the whole next day fussing over him. It had been...nice, sure, but Vicky had too much to deal with herself. Dean couldn't let her burn herself out on him.

  A sharp pounding came from the door and his eyes snapped open. The fuck? No one had buzzed up, was it one of his neighbours looking for help? He sighed and rose, hoping Irene's cat wasn't dangling from the balcony again. He grabbed his hoodie from the back of the couch and threw it on, then a pair of shorts over his boxers before heading to the door. Dean twisted the handle and pulled--

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  The door flew back and he was thrown into the wall, then lifted off his feet by a pair of invisible hands. A lanky, hunched person walked through, an oversized bathrobe wrapped around them, a broad-brimmed hat hiding their face. They turned their head slightly, raising it just enough that he could see a predatory grin grow.

  “Hello Dean.” They sounded like Lia but...their voice was deeper, with a heavy rasp. “Thanks for telling me where you lived earlier.”

  “Who are y--”

  “Three guesses,” they snapped, tearing off their hat. “The first two don't count, loverboy.”

  It was...well, it looked like Lia. Her face was longer though, drawn to a sharp point at her nose. Her lips were puckered, her smile was too small for her face, and her teeth too large for her mouth. She stood at least a foot taller too, despite being hunched and clearly bow-legged judging by her gait. In the flickering light of distant battle, he saw a slight shimmer in front of him, roughly outlining a shape like the twisted girl in front of him.

  “You're not Amaranth,” Dean choked out.

  “You're right, after a fashion,” she chuckled dryly and started walking. Dean was dragged along the wall with her. “Let's get you comfortable before we have a nice little talk. That's what you always fucking wanted, right? The whole story, no punches pulled.”

  He felt a chill up his back, then stifled a yell as he was flung onto the couch. Dean only just managed to sit up before the force, the not-Lia's projection he assumed, pressed him hard against the cushions. She paced anxiously in front of the couch, face twisted with a mix of anger and fear. Her aura was awash in it, undercut by the ugly shade of absolute hatred.

  “Who are you?” Dean asked, taking a deep breath to try and settle himself, at least get in the zone.

  “Amelia,” she spat. “Call me Amy or it'll get fucking confusing.”

  “What?”

  “Enough questions.” He felt fingers he couldn't see tighten around his throat. “At least, about boring shit like that. You know Lia was right to not tell you. If you knew what I knew...” Her voice shook, then she turned and grinned. “Well, you will soon enough. Where do you think we should start, Dean?”

  “At...the start?” He choked out.

  “Good answer.” The thing calling herself Amy chuckled. “Well, I guess I started like every fucking one of us, getting screwed by life until I snapped. Well, not all of us, right Dean?” He flinched. “Oh I know, the heroes will too since Lia's a little fuckup, can't fix anything that actually matters. Vicky's gonna know. But that won't matter for long. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked.”

  “So since you don't know what it feels like, imagine having your soul scraped out and replaced with an alien parasite that wants nothing more than for you to fight, and fight, and fight. And then because God decided that wasn't enough, he added a fucking bonus on top.”

  “Lia comes back when she dies,” Dean managed to gasp.

  “Oh you think that's everything, right.” She cackled. “Yeah she's got a little retard helmet that means she keeps coming back. Not that she can use it right. You know how fucking close she was to killing Leviathan, then gave up because Amy, Vicky, and you made doe-eyes at her? Stupid, selfish little dumbass. Anyway, sidetracked.”

  “You know the PRT calls me a precog, because I haven't told them what I am because it's insane. But hey, the fucking world's going insane, going to end soon anyway. You heard about that right? World ends in two years, they call it 'Gold Morning', but I'm getting way fucking ahead of myself. Spoilers and all that.”

  “Spoilers?”

  “Spoilers,” she repeated, grinning. “So, what do I get besides shitty superpowers? Memories. Not mine, or...mine, or not or fuck this stupid fucking dipshit.” The clone shouted and kicked the coffee table, toppling it. “Mine or fucking not, I remember shit now. All this? What we're going through Dean? It's all a lie, a fiction, made up by some Canadian prick.”

  “Pardon if I don't believe tha--” The projection cut off Dean's retort.

  “How do you think I fucking knew everything?” she asked, whirling on him. “I knew from day fucking one after triggering that Amy would rape her sister. Wasn't even able to stop it, just pick up the fucking pieces like always. But who fucking cares because it isn't real. Just a little pit of hell some asshole made up because he was bored. And Lia's gone and fucked it all up.”

  “You should have died, back at Leviathan.” She leaned down, grey eyes too large for her face glaring hatefully. “That was how it happened when I read it. Died at Leviathan and left poor Victoria heartbroken and alone, with her sister breaking down. And you never even told her did you? Probably what led to this whole shitshow to begin with, so I guess you'll have that to sit with you. At least til I'm done.”

  “Done?” Dean hated how his voice shook.

  “Technically til you're done.” The grip around his neck tightened. “All this fucking bullshit I've suffered because of her? I'm going to make it all worthless. Undo every fucking change she made, put this fiction back on track. You know I, she, we remember being a writer, writing about this world. Always making changes, but I'm a fan of the original. After I'm done here, I'll grab Vicky and Amy, and show her what breaking her rules really fucking looks like. Can't kill Lia since it won't stick, so I'll remind her what makes this world a fucking nightmare. Wish I could make you watch, but I'll just--”

  “SHUT UP!”