***** Just this first chapter took weeks for me to write out and edit myself... I think it turned out well. But I'm sure I missed a few things. Yes, I know, authors notes are always boring but i'm gonna have to ask you guys to stick this one out with me.

For a while my muse has come and gone in tiny blotches, and though I haven't been updating my stories nearly as much as I'd like, it's difficult for me to focus on. However, because of Roleplaying and the help from a few friends- I feel like ill be able to get pretty far with this story. I have also written some chapters In advance so that you, my readers, won't have to wait months at a time for another chapter.

**AS OF NOW, THIS STORY HAS NO PLOT.** sorry guys, another part on my muse. I will try my best to incoppurate SOMETHING special into this fanfiction. But bare with me until that happens.

This story is AU. It begins during the first few cycles before the war truly began, though, just a reminder that the events in G1 (and other universes) that start the war isn't entirely true for this. to make this story... easier, persay. ive sort of created my own beginning for this. However much I would hate to admit: I've never actually watched past the first episode of G1 (couldn't stand the graphics.) most of my information on Transformers is gained through other Fanfictions, and other universes.

Aside from the first chapter- this story gets VERY dark, VERY fast. If your squeamish then I recommend you back out now.

***Other Notes.***

Before anyone objects and decided to stomp on me for this- Prowl is slightly OOC in this chapter. I couldn't quite grasp just what he'd be like as a young child, or, in the situation he was put in.

Other then that. Enjoy the story, Feedback is greatly appreciated and MIGHT alter the story line depending on the circomestances.

All song lyrics (otherwise stated.) Are created by me personally for this fanfiction.

Enjoy the first chapter and tell me what ya think!

It's been way to long

I thought you were gone

My hope was always numb.

Now you come to me.

Struggling to breathe.

"Where were you?"

"And why weren't you beside me?"

'They found him.'

Three words, three completely, unexpected words Prowl never thought he would ever hear. Although the words had been vague, and not at all informative. Prowl new exactly what they meant, he knew exactly who this 'him.' Was. He just... He just couldn't believe it.

The tactical expert could not explain his feelings, or what they were just then. It could have been excitement, maybe anticipation, there was defiantly some worry.

Never had three words struck him so hard in the spark, Three words, alone, had never gave such an impact. Especially on him.

They found him.

They... Really had found him. After all this time...

He raced from the tactics room like like a bull out of hell (inside the aircraft base on earth, in which, the Autobots had taken refuge in soon after the human-bot alliance was formed.) Confused and clueless autobots stepped aside, their optics to attention, unknowing if Prowls full out sprint was for an alert. They remained there, stunned, until the doorwinger had disappeared around the corner.

He didn't need a map to see where he was going. He knew every step of the way.

Prowl threw open the doors to the small medical bay, his thoughts jumbled, his confused feelings bouncing around in his spark...

But feelings of joy and happiness left in a puff, in favor of the cold hard truth. He was confused, scared, and he was... angry.

The Bluestreak he had once taken care of, his little brother...

This was not him.

Animalistic screeches pierced the audios of the medics, and anyone within radius of the medbay doors. Nubbed fingers clawed at the lining of the berth, wrinkling and shredding the new sheets. Crystal blue energon was already soaking its soft fabric from the missing tips on the silver digits.

Not one spot on the bot was left unmarked. His headlights were shattered, half cut wires sending sparks into the air. Most of the glass on his form was missing, leaving flakes and single triangles left to hang on their own. Bluestreaks paint was charred, parts were melted off, others left grossly colored radiation -and infection- seething from the wounds the acid burn had created.

like the topping on a cake, gashes and ragged claw marks littered the entire mass of his frame. some had stopped oozing energon; others had reopened, and bled down to the nape of his back. Both his legs had been pulled from their original ballstruts, and broken at the hip. they had been repositioned, and healed at a very, unpleasing angle.

Spread, baring the left over tips of sharp metals that had once made up his interface panel. Someone had pried the hatch off, like they were desperate to get inside.

Prowls optics wondered despite his fight to stop them. A truly sick feeling rose up from the bowels of his tanks.

There... Was nothing there.

A stub- a angry looking tangle of tiny wires, all burned and splintered at the end. His mech hood, the very thing that made him a mech.

His spike.

It was... gone.

This could NOT be Bluestreak.

An otherworldly scream jolted Prowl right out of his panic, the sturdy mech had actually stumbled back, struck numb by the breaks in his little brothers cries. There was so much pain in its sound. So much trauma.

Bluestreak leered foreword, hands outstreched, he tried to grab at both Ratchet, and First aid. Energon foamed from his mouth, dripping down his chin like some kind of rabid predator after a fresh kill.

His blue optics were crazed with hunger, the young mech spoke, mumbled, and wailed words, but the sentences were gibberish, they were toned with hatred and tinted with famine.

Prowl stood there. His optics uncharacteristically wide. his doorwings were lifted up high on alert, and at the same time they were slightly tilted with worry, he was unsure what to do. He wanted to run up to his brother, he wanted to show that soft side of him, the side one no one had seen. He wanted to show it to his little brother as he laid on that table.

But he was also afraid to... This was an animal, the torture had completely ruined him. DEGRADED him. Whoever had done this... turned Bluestreak into... This.

Anger gripped the SIC, his hands clenched into fists, his teeth gridded together. The thought broke into a million pieces, in result of this: His door wings trembled. Ratchet had sensed the dramatic change of atmosphere, and looked up just in time to see the rabid snarl set on Prowls lips.

"Whoever did this..." Growled Prowl, Ratchet actually stood up, he put one hand up in surrender. Sibling protocalls. It comes with family protection. If a spark-sibling felt the need to protect the other...

Well. Try taking Sideswipe from Sunstreaker.

Blue optics alight, he pointed strait down, and in a deadly smooth voice, he snarled. "Consider them erased from the system."

-Six vorns earlier, Cybertron. Iacon city. 12:30 AM.-

Sturdy hands diligently wrapped the blue and gold wrapping paper around a small box. It was set on a small table, with supply's laid out around it. Prowl was seen much younger in this. His door wings moved with emotion, his optics shined lively, with joy and anticipation for the next coming hours.

Today was his little brothers spark day.

Usually, around this time of morning Prowl would be working impeccably, as Optimus Primes right hand man, he'd trained for years in the accadamy as a tactical expert. And after those years of hard work, the Prime had seen him fit to help.

War was over the horizon. The streets were tight, citizens were afraid. Prowl had been lucky when he decided to move him, and his little brother from Paraxis to Iacon city. Not only was his home now closer to his workplace, the hall of primes... but they had also narrowly missed a devistating attack against his home city, that left little to no survivors.

They had been lucky. Very lucky.

But life as they knew it was due to move on, press foreword in an endless ring of fury. The golden age was drawing towards its end, and the era of war was soon to begin. It was now, when Prowl realized just how much his little brother meant to him. Just how desperately he wanted to keep the door winger close. If the war was to start, Bluestreak would be right beside him when it did. He would protect him, he would with every fiber of his being.

Finished, the small spark day package was finally wrapped up and decorated. Prowl had never been a very artistic 'bot. But Bluestreak was worth the glitter and glue that fell from his frame when he moved, he was worth the patches of tape that stuck to his digits.

For about ten vorns now Prowl and Bluestreak had lived on their own after the brutal murder of their caretakers. It hadn't been easy at first. Poverty, starvation. They'd lived on the streets for nearly a vorn until his caretakers will was finally varified.

They went from poor to riches in less then a month. A babysitter was highered to watch Bluestreak when Prowl was off on his long overnight stays at his academy. The mech threw himself head long into his work, determined to gain a job that could support both him and his brother once the money from their caretakers ran out.

They were doing pretty well now. It was a drastic change, but it was for the better.

Black and white stood up, Prowl stretched his struts out for a moment- sitting so long had crammed him up, but, with his taticts work now with Optimus Prime, and cybertrons law emforcment district, He sat a lot more then he would like.

He took a long look around the nicely fit, three bedroom home. The walls were white, and the kitchen was left wide open to view from the door. Furniture scattered across the living room making it look homely and clean, the bright lights lit up the room almost as if the building itself had a sun to support it.

With a content sigh, Prowl went about turning off these soothing lights, package tucked beneath the crook of his arm strut. And once the lights had all been shut off, Prowl left and locked the door.

Usually, Prowl would refrain from visiting Centuries Elementary, one of the highest income schools in Iacon's district. Simply because children made him... Uneasy. He could stand Bluestreak, without a doubt, he was his little brother. However, other sparklings made his wings rise stiffly above his helm. They way they stared at him- stared up at his optics as if they were staring into his very soul... Those large, glistening optics. optics that watched his every move, calculating every valuable part in his body, targeting ways to gain his attention...

Maybe...He was over thinking it.

Yes. He was over thinking it.

Prowl transformed down into his black and white enforcers alt mode. Prowl was, after all, a rookie in the enforcers as well as Optimus's personal strategist. The law was one of those things that Prowl had always been submitted to. His sire had been an enforcer. Prowl had grown up obeying- and respecting- all the laws written out to him.

Prowl also was an expert at proving these laws as well, he proved his skills each day that he worked.

Prowl drove down the busy highway, other bots coming to his sides as the lanes multiplied, signs flew by past his helm pointing in different counties inside the main city. It was pretty nice, Iacon was a large city. A busy city, yes. But it had its spaces. It was also home to many of Cybertrons important members. The Prime, Magnus, and Alpha Trion lived In this city. Not only making it privileged, but well known and adored by Cybertrons inhabitants.

It was like an instinct, Prowl imedetly knew something was wrong the second his speed dropped past fifty to accommodate the ahead vheicals pace. It took no more then a few clicks for his tires to meet a complete stop. Confused, the rookie enforcer hadn't been the only one to transform up to get a view of just what had caused the road block.

It seamed to strech on for miles. There was a giant sea of mechs and femmes mostly in their bipedals. The doorwinger tipped up on his pedes to attempt to look past the crowed. And then, someone screamed.

Everyone's helms swiveled to pinpoint the source of the bloodcurling noise. at first, Prowl did not know what the problem was. that was, until he saw the tiny, hardly noticable dot in the sky a few miles away.

Prowl knew, as well as the other cybertronians around him- that a flying dot in the sky only meant ine thing.

Seekers.

Realization struck the massive crowed of colors. Questionable mumbles rose from the endless stream, which turned into a tremendous yelling fit. the first panicked scream drew another, and another, and another, until all he could hear were the sounds of panick and terror around him. then Prowl could hear the hiss of a seekers engine. A distant rumble tickled the bottom of Prowls pedes, then another, but this time, the quake had a sound.

Everyone was screaming now, they pushed and shoved others out of the way, all scrambling to get away from the highway-bridge, and onto sturdy ground.

Though, none of them stood a chance. They made it mere steps before the assending Seeker streaked overhead, releasing two oval casings from its bottom, the two objects dropped, whistling while they decended.

Prowls breath caught, everything seamed to slow down, for nearly everyone, he hardly had enough time to take a step before the bombs impacted fourty feet in front of him, into the bulk of the innocent crowed.

However far away he might have been, the blast wave was strong, he felt someone or, rather someTHING, slam into him.

He didnt know what happened. One moment he was standing, the next, he laid on his back atop the unfortunate soul who'd been behind him.

His audios rang, the panicked screams swam in and out of his range. The floor beneath him rippled with the thunder of yet another explosion.

"SEEKERS!"

Automatically the shocked daze left Prowl in a click, he snapped into a sitting postion, door wings alert, he was already pushing himself to his feet. Bots ran past him, trying to flea from the direction Prowl had been heading for originally.

He looked up: his feet already moving foreword. Soon he was sprinting down the road, panicked civilians pushing past him to get to safety. The bomber had turned around, and circled for another round.

Prowls ion blaster transformed forth, hands shaking, the shocked bot threw up his hands and aimed.

The shot was loud, one, followed by three others. The last of the three shots made impact, clipping the silver jet's extended wing. In a desprate attempt to continue the attack, the jet dropped his cargo, before he swerved mid air and crashed into the distance.

Ground contact. Prowl could see it: even if it only lasted for a second. Fire engulfed his vision. For a moment he felt a small sting, during that tiny moment he could smell burning paint, he could taste the sultry ash on his glossia...

CRACK!

All noise stopped, in the snap of a digit his vision was black. For a brief nanoclick prowl had been swallowed by comeplete and utter silence. No more screams, no clatter of armor or clanking of rushing pedes. There was no jet engine. He couldn't even hear his own gears turning. He was fully self-aware of this, and for a moment Prowl debated on wether or not he was in fact, Deactivated.

The warbled wail of a siren swam through his audios. The sound set forth a new wave though his systems. Ever so slowly his processor rebooted. Smoke. All he could see was smoke. They were either lumps, or bodies that laid in a blurr on the highways front. A blink, a grey sky replaced his vision. Prowl struggled to sit up, as more and more smoke clouded him, choking him, wafting into his intakes. He coughed, and coughed, and coughed. Unable to syphon the fumes. He felt the ground beneath his knees with half-num fingers. With willpower and determination alone he used his slightly damaged, scraped servos to push himself to his feet, a flicker of orange nicked his pherperial sight. Prowl darted foreword wether or not his body was ready for it.

Those were the largest flames Prowl had ever seen. They rose above the sky and weaved in and out through the clouds. From what he could see, the entire street block before him was over growing with these milticolored flames.

Right in front of him.

Oh primus... Bluestreak.

Prowl ran, unable to transform down do to how many obsitcals were in his way. His intakes squealed in a desprate plea for mercy, strained from the smoke that lingered inside. His engine sputtered, he wasn't sure which way was up or down but for some reason his pedes led the way.

He was aware of those around him calling him away. Struggling to survive through the rabid attack they'd been subjected too. Some of the Fire Force pushed inside, spraying watered down coolant into the flames, doing there best in trying to get as many to safety as they could. Prowl thought he saw Inferno throwing himself into a blazing building, but the home itself rushed by in a blurr with his speeds.

And then he saw it, the one thing he had never wanted to see.

Centuries elementary was smoldering, red hot and melting. Beneath a thick, dense blanket of raging blue flames. It was so sickeningly clear that the school had been a key target in the Decepticons carpet bomb attack. Whatever rubble was hanging onto the building flourished, and dropped to the charred ground. The vibrations and cracking, thundering noise only added to the splitting chaos.

Limpid fear wracked through Prowls very system. It traveled to his very core as if the fear itself were the spreading blue flames before him. However acidic this fear may have been, the feeling did not burn his wires; instead, it froze them. Encased his fragile lifeblood inside icy, freezing pillars of liquid nitrogen. Prowls frame trembled, the freezing sensation took its coarse and managed to alight his entire body in icy tendrils in less then a second.

He found he could not move. He could not think. His processor wanted to rush into that building: that burning school. He wanted to play hero and search throughout the fire and the flames for the only family he had left~

But he couldn't.

The metophorical Ice had frozen his pedes to the ground. Shock kept him rooted in place. His spark pumped, quaked, and quivered warnoutly. The once pristine white and black paint that had adorned his frame was now bleeding, and bubbling freely down his shaking body. The two bland colors merged together, black overpowering the white, turning the blistering chemicals into a soggy, depressing grey.

Cybertrons low gravitational field proved that it was working addiquatley, by pulling Prowls tired, and physically shocked body down onto the sut covered road top. On instinct the strategists servos sprang out to catch his fall. Avoiding facial impact. Weak Fuzzy and patchy optic relays met the roads top. During his desprate plight to fully understand the situation, his spark had already fallen into a simple, but drastic conclusion.

He was too late.

By the looks of it, Bluestreak was dead. Along with whomever had been inside that school. Poor, defenseless, innocent sparklings.

Dead.

...All of them.

Six peices of glass were scattered below him, a thick splotch of unprocessed energon oozed atop one of these pieces. Prowl had No clue if the energon was that of a child, or his own precious lifeblood.

He couldn't bare to think of it.

His systems gave a faint wail at the very thought of just who's energon it could have been. For some strange, unknown reason it was all his processor could dwell upon, in those moments of shock and desperation, he was in such a unwilling haze that his mind had tried to destract him from the flames that nicked at his armor and burned his mech flesh.

Red flashed somewhere in his vision but Prowl, for the life of him, could not tell if the sudden color was that of the fire, or his systems alerting him. However, he did realize, shortly, that he was taking heavy damage that he simply could not feel. His cooling fans could not atone for the rapid overheating of his core systems.

His optics were now failing him. He felt faint, dizzy, and the clouds of smoke that wagged into his intakes did not help the tingles and the lightheaded feeling he felt. The smoke reeked of death, it even tasted as so. And Prowl realized just then, that no matter how hard he scrubbed an washed his mouth, the taste would never leave him.

As the flames rose higher above the black clouds a single doorwinged frame collapsed from stress and strain. His body positioned helplessly before the school in which the lone autobots last family member was sought to be deactivated. The flames continued to spread until they had completley obstructed the figure from view.

Not the view of everyone, it seamed. For a splash of red armour was seen, sprinting into the flames whilst battering at the force with feeble, but strong arms. That large frame had surcombed to the same bitter energon fire that had taken Prowl.

'If I burn, will you burn with me?

If I fall, will you catch me?

My spark can't fight, and in my plight,

I find no one here to help me.

If I die, will you come with me?

If I leave, will you leave with me?

For at this time, I cannot lie,

No one else can help me.