Inspired by "The Poor Kid" on South Park. KarenXKenny, but only when talking about sibling love. They're such cute kids… He's so protective of her. I'm jealous… It was nice to hear Kenny talk again, even if it had to be with his deep Batman voice. So that's what inspired this… and I'm waiting for reviews from Rule 61 so I can update… unless it lost it's fans, but it was 'just get getting good'. I had a huge killer scene coming up.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Graysons, but…

"He was here again, momma!" Dick grinned ear to ear.

His short brown hair was nearly identical to his father's: short. The only difference though was that Dick liked to spike his hair while his father would comb it back so it'd seem to curl. His dark blue eyes sparkled happily as he swung his tiny bare feet back and forth in the air above the ground. He sat in one of the three chestnut chairs at the kitchen table, his feet a good foot or so from the cold ground in their trailer.

Mary Grayson briskly went to her son's side, setting a small glass of orange juice and a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon in front of him. Her brown hair was messily tied up in a bun, a few loose strands hanging down in her eyes. She wore a big white shirt that touched down to the middle of her thighs, her short black shorts barely visible beneath the shirt. She was barely 24, her son just having turned 4. She was a beautiful mother and her husband knew he was lucky to have her.

She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Dick's exposed forehead before dashing back to the stove to tend to her eggs. She gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears, sighing in impatience at it. She didn't want to have to mess with it. She wished she had the power to imagine her hair a way and have it appear like that without her actually having to mess with it. A make-up artist would've been nice too.

"Who was here honey?" she kept her tone calm even though she felt ready to bite someone's head off.

She was exhausted, her arms hurt and she was very hungry. Life in the circus wasn't as easy as one might think it to be. Keeping a trailer clean was actually pretty easy, but her little son could mess it up again even easier. John had better get himself back pretty soon if he wanted to live to the next act.

"My guardian angel," Dick said it like it was obvious, picking up a piece of bacon with his hand and shoving it in his mouth.

Mary hummed in confusion, peeking over her shoulder at her boy.

"Guardian angel?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She couldn't help but smile at how adorable her little boy was, swinging his feet and stuffing his feet. He seemed so oblivious to the world around him and how hard it actually was. All he noticed were the good things, like how pretty it was outside and how happy Jumby, Erica's best elephant, was today. He was such a peaceful child. Just the thought of him going through his teen years, facing all of the depressing dramas that awaited him made her stomach hurt. Dick started to excited ramble, but his mouth was stuffed so bacon bits flew across the room. Mary clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"Swallow first," she swept over, scooping the scraps off the table top before lovingly hitting his pale nose right on the tip.

Dick scrunched up his nose in discomfort, but he laughed it off, swallowing hard.

"The man with the funny outfit! The one with the fancy!" he tried to explain, watching his mom over the top of his orange juice glass.

Mary kept her eyebrow raised, "Excuse me?"

Dick had to wait his turn though as John Grayson entered the room, taking in the sight of his wife with a big grin and sparkling eyes. He held open his arms hopefully.

John was a big man with broad shoulders. He had a square face, but he was rather handsome. He stood at roughly 6'4", his hair dark enough to almost be considered black. His eyes were a light green that almost seemed yellow as they gleamed in the lights. He had huge muscles, often accused of being a steroid abuser, but he was one of the most gentle muscle heads that anyone knew. He was a true lover, but he was chocked full of fight at 30.

Mary practically waltzed across the room, jumping into his arms. She was so small and dainty compared to him, but she seemed to fit perfectly into his frame as he held her tight to his chest. He smiled warmly, breathing in the faded smell of rose petals and French vanilla. It was simply intoxicating to him.

"Daddy!" Dick cried, turning on his stomach so he could carefully climb down before dashing across the kitchen floor.

He slipped on the start of the carpet, but John ducked down and scooped him up with one arm, bringing him up to his chest to join the big hug. He lazily pressed his large lips to his son's temple, causing the boy to shriek with laughter before little arms wrapped around his neck. Mary slipped away to tend to the eggs again so John set his little boy down on the ground.

"How's your day, Dicky?" John asked curiously, getting down on one knee so he could better see his son.

The little brunette twirled around on his bare feet before he started to tug on the edge of his red shirt. A cartoon Tonka Trunk was printed on the front, 'VROOM' written above it in a speech bubble in yellow. He wore little tan cargo pants that had a hole in the pocket on his left thigh.

"My guardian angel came to visit me," Dick told his daddy, smiling sheepishly down at his toes, "he always comes to watch me. He doesn't want me to get hurt. I just know it!"

John glanced over at his wife, hoping that she could piece together the parts of the puzzle he was missing. She didn't look over though. She was fussing with their late breakfast.

"Ace… [1]" John tested Dick's nickname carefully, "Who is this… angel?"

Dick stared at his dad in confusion for a moment.

"Don't you know? He's at the circus a lot… the man… with the…" Dick fumbled around his neck, as if referring to a bow tie or a normal tie.

"Tuxedo?" his dad offered.

Dick thought hard on it for a moment, shrugging after a while.

"I 'unno," he frowned. "Matt sees him too... Where is bubby? 'S'ee [2] invisible?"

That caused Mary to glance over her shoulder, sadness written over her features. She had to look back to her food, frowning roughly, tears in her eyes. John swallowed hard, running a hand over his hair.

"Uh… Bubby's going to be gone… for a while," John coughed to hide the slight crack in his voice, weakly getting to his feet and patting Dick on the back, "Why don't you go finish your breakfast and tell us more about your angel?"

Dick frowned. Even for a four year old, he wasn't stupid. He knew that he wasn't going to get anything more on the subject though so he scurried back to his seat, scrambling up into his seat.

For the next five years, Dick continued to try to tell his parents about his guardian angel. When he turned eight, they told him to stop messing around and that this 'guardian angel' was all in his head. They even threatened to take him to counseling when they got the money. Whenever they'd question his angel though, he'd question their missing son and the subject would quickly be dropped. One night though, not too long after he turned eight, he stood backstage with his parents when he spotted his guardian angel.

It was an average man who looked about his dad's age. The man had broad shoulders too, but his chin was more chiseled. His eyes were as dark as the shadows in Dick's small make-shift closet. He had dark black hair that was combed in a matter that was so neat it could be considered a mess. He was actually rather pale, but he wasn't as near pale as the angels in the picture books were depicted to be. Dick grabbed his parents by their wrists, squirming uncomfortably in his leotard. He liked the old one way better, but he didn't have the heart to tell his mom. She had worked hard to make it.

"There! Third row, in-between the fat blonde and the ginger!" he pointed at the crowd before he rudely got head-slapped for such descriptions.

"Be nice!" his mom scolded, but she followed his finger, "Who are we supposed to see?"

She looked at the man and couldn't hide a smile. He wasn't that bad looking actually. He looked really familiar though. It was the kind of familiar that made you want to beat your head against a wall until it came to you because that's how close the name was.

"My guardian angel! That man's always been here; every circus performance! Sometimes, we even talk after the show!"

John and Mary's eyes widened.

"What did we tell you about talking to strangers?" John began to scold.

Dick spun around, shaking his head at his dad before he waved to his angel. Somehow, the older ebony seemed to feel the wave and he turned, returning it with a smile.

"He's not a stranger momma. His name is Bruce. He says he knew daddy when they were younger; you guys were college roomies or something? He's also the owner of Wayne Tech. He's just a huge circus fan," Dick accidentally introduced his angel to his parents.

It took Mary a moment to put the pieces together.

"Wait… your angel is… Bruce Wayne?" she asked in disbelief.

That night, Dick had to be pulled off from the trapeze tower. Deafening sobs and shrieks of enormous proportions escaped his small form, surprising everyone and anyone who could hear. Like always, his angel rushed forward onto the scene, whisking the boy he fought to protect away from the nasty Hell that life threatened to drown him in. He took him away from the worst of the fire, taking him back to his home.

It wasn't Heaven though. There were no clouds, no sunshine, no saviors. It was just a house with a normal man and his 'grandfather'. His angel had been a fake. If the only thing he had ever truly believed in over the years was fake, was anything real anymore? Why should he believe in fake floating glow sticks and stupid soft feathers glued to someone's back? He didn't need an angel. He didn't need Heaven. He wanted to go back to Hell, because at least there, he could be somewhat with what was left of his family.

[1] My dad has always called my brother Ace. I have no idea why. I just thought it'd be cute.

[2] 'S'ee is supposed to be an abbreviation and contraction of 'is he'. I pronounce it like that a lot.

Dedicated to Dustin Hinrichs. When I say "I Miss You", I mean I miss my brother, not you. You aren't my brother. You're just her slave now. I want my big brother back. I want the boy who'd hold me in his lap when I was three as he played the goriest video game he had in front of me. I want the boy who'd hold me close as I sobbed because the mean girls at school pushed me into the snow and I scraped my knee up. I want the boy who'd kneel down at my side and set a hand to my shoulder, promising he'd always protect me from the bad guys. You lied Dustin. I'm dying here… Come back…

-F.J.