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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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"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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