In fights, some small part of him always watched his twin.

Even when the Speedster was doing his own thing, broken off from the team, making a smart-ass comment that no one but the bad guys heard, he was always sending darting glances to the Witch in the sky. It wasn't like anyone else would even see him watching -- he was too fast for that -- but he always knew what was going on in that part of the fight.

If there should come a time when the flash of red fell from the sky, a white blur would always be there before it hit the ground. Even if green got there first, in the form of the Witch's boyfriend, white quickly followed.

The Speedster would be there when magic failed to be enough to keep the Witch aloft, afloat, safe.

Because, for all that teammates, friends, surrounded them, the Witch was the only family he had. Parents -- real or adoptive -- were distant, terrible at it or useless to him now.

So he would guard his twin like a treasure. Wisecrack it off, make it a joke if people mentioned, but always worry that someday he wouldn't be fast enough. Fear a day when the red cape would be red with blood, and he would be alone.

But that day wouldn't come. Not if he watched.

Some small part of him always watched.