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Barbara's been tired lately, behaving oddly. She hasn't been any less kind to Aggie, but she can still perceive it, the way exhaustion's been clinging to her. It's what has her sitting in Barbara's apartment now, her hands folded around a mug of hot chocolate as she waits. Barbara went out tonight and Aggie had known, instinctively, that this was different from the other times that Barbara went out. She'd had a look on her face like something was haunting her and Aggie would've had to have been covering her ears and eyes not to hear the news about the serial killer going around.

So she waits. Barbara never promises she'll come home safe. She always promises she'll try because it's more honest. And tonight, Aggie waits. There's a mug of hot water in the microwave and tea bags on the table when Barbara comes.

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I don't know who I am anymore. I almost beat a man to death tonight and I can't even say why, except that I am SO TIRED. So angry. So... frustrated at my entire life. How could I let myself go like that, how could I fail?

I've been less that circumspect with Aggie when it comes to being Batgirl, she knows what I do although we never talk about it and tonight I'm just too worn out to change before I creep through my bedroom window. I probably should have, because as soon as I'm in the light of my apartment, I can see the blood on my hands, feel the bruises I know I'll have under my gloves.

Too late now, she's probably heard me. "Aggie, I'm home." I don't even have to guess that she's here. I know she is. Bless her, she cares about me. Hell if I know why.

When she hears Barbara coming through, Aggie presses the start button on the microwave to reheat the water before hurrying over to greet her. "Are you hurt?" she asks, because 'are you okay' seems naively optimistic.

She lingers in the doorway, arms braced for a hug, but uncertain if Barbara wants one right now.

"I put the first aid kit on the table."

What am I doing to this kid? It's not the first time I've asked myself that question, but knowing that a) she's stayed up until I came home and b) is more concerned about me and my safety than any kid her age should, is sending my mind in places I'd rather it not go. Christ, she already had the first aid kit out? Kids her age shouldn't need to do that kind of thing, I'm supposed to be taking care of her, right?

I shudder, thinking of the number of times Jason or Dick must have done the same for Bruce. Or Alfred, needing to patch all of them up. That's not what I want for Aggie, she's already suffered enough.

What am I doing with my life? What am I doing with hers?

Peeling off my body armor, I examine the bruises. There's layers of them after the last couple of weeks, my knuckles have split again, I'm probably lucky I didn't break my hand the way I was... never mind.

"You should go to bed, Aggie, you didn't need to wait up. You have school, remember?"

"You're more important," Aggie says softly. She pulls out the mug of hot water and puts a tea bag in it. "I just wanted to make sure you got back safely."

She knows there's no real "making sure" but it's still important to her to try. All the stress has been written across Barbara's face as surely as Aggie's had been in Blithe Hollow.

"I will in a minute." She tilts her head at Barbara and pushes the tea towards her. "You're my family. That's why I want to." She's uncertain if now is the time to hug Barbara or if her guardian is in pain or would simply rather not be touched.

Pausing, she sits back at the table, turning her nearly empty cup. "I've seen people do bad things. I've done bad things. You don't have to hide what you do."

"No, I'm not. Aggie..." I pull on my robe, knowing that if I actually put something comfy on I'm probably going to pass out I'm so exhausted and frustrated and ashamed right now. "I'm screwing a lot of things up right now, but I refuse to let you be a part of any of it. Your only responsibility is... is... to be a kid. Have friends, have a slumber party, go to school, play with your cat. And the fact that what I do is keeping you up, that it's making you think that it's okay to see bad things... well, maybe it's time that I stopped."

It's the first time I've said that out loud, but it's been simmering underneath everything I've felt for the last few weeks of nightmares and dead bodies. I can't do this if I can't trust my own self-control and I sure as hell can't do this if it's affecting Aggie. I won't risk her getting hurt because she thinks she needs to look out for me.

I won't let her become another Damien.

"I don't think you are," Aggie says resolutely. "You do scary things and I worry about you, but I know that you do good." Her expression grows melancholy and she wishes Barbara would see it, how safe Aggie feels here. Safe and loved in ways she had almost forgotten.

"I am a kid. But that doesn't mean I can't care about you."

I stop rummaging through the first aid kit for a minute and open my arms. "Come here." She's a little big, but I can still probably pull her into my lap if she wants to be there. "It isn't that I don't want you to care. Or that I don't think you understand. I love that you manage both at such a young age. But normal kids don't have par- guardians that go out at night and beat up bad guys. They don't have parents they have to bandage up after those fights. That's not how kids are supposed to grow up." Even if they have a butler to do the bandaging.

Seriously, I don't think I've ever really sat down and thought about how... damaging and traumatic it had to be as a Robin. To be that young and out fighting. "I don't want you growing up thinking this is normal, or even something I want you to do someday. I want you to be safe."

Aggie pulls over her chair so that she balances partially on Barbara's lap and on the chair. Her guardian is strong, she knows that, but Aggie can tell she's tired. It makes her hug sincere and fierce, but also careful.

"Barbara," she reminds her softly. "I'm three hundred years old. And a witch. I don't think I'm going to grow up normally at all. And that's okay. I like how this is."

And, in a painfully circumspect way, even with her abilities Aggie doesn't think she'll ever be the kind of hero that her guardian is. After all, her story began when she was the villain.

I hold onto her tightly, probably stronger than I should considering my bruises and I try to think through what I want to say. "I know you like it, but I want you to have better than what you have now." A better life and a safer one.

"And my first decision is that you need to go to bed. It's late." Pressing a kiss to her temple, I look down. "Even three-hundred year olds have a bedtime, okay, and it's way past yours. I can take care of all of this."

"This is better, for me anyway. It's good." She feels safe with Barbara, happy and cared for in a way she hasn't experienced in a long, long time. Aggie hugs back carefully, turning her head to kiss Barbara's cheek.

"Okay, I'm going." She offers Barbara a tiny smile and puts her own mug in the sink to wash. "Good night."

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