Dreadwing ruminates on memories and finds himself transferring too much of his own bond, and loss, with Skyquake onto the vehicon's situation.

AN- Big thanks to those readers who dropped a review; each one brightened my day.

Also another obligatory Airachnid warning, she keeps stealing scenes and being creepy


Neither of them were apt to panic.

They were mostly calm and collected; if not, then they were likely angry and woe be to those who made them so.

But that did not make them immune. Dreadwing remembered how he had felt twisted inside when he heard that his twin would be departing.

It paled in comparison to feeling him die.

But during his death, Dreadwing had not had the time to share words with his brother. They had not spoken and so their only goodbye had come when Skyquake had received the orders to wait on Earth.

«I'm going into stasis» his brother's voice had come across their spark.

Stasis. He would not be able to feel his twin's active thoughts or words.

Dreadwing felt his side of the spark twist in brief anxiety over that thought.

«You are?» he asked.

The panic tampered out. Neither of them indulged in such emotional distress.

Part of that was pride.

Part of that was the ever calming pulse of their shared spark. So long as they had each other, they would also have comfort.

«Lord Megatron plans to send me to a small world holding energon caches and the dead remains of our old Predacon army. I will await him there in my stasis pod.»

«A great honor» Dreadwing said, «I am so proud of you, that you were chosen for such a task.»

Their sparks reached for each other- two halves of one whole. He could feel every emotion Skyquake felt, hear every thought.

Vorns later, he would feel the exact pain a spark felt in guttering out. He would hear the thoughts of panic as Skyquake fell downward, wires and veins ripped out, to what would certainly be death.

They were the sickest of thoughts, for Skyquake was not supposed to feel fear or panic. Neither of them were.

«It is an honor,» the absent twin agreed, «But I will miss you while I lay as though dead.»

They were supposed to have only experienced such silenced separation while one lay in stasis.

Neither were supposed to die in this foolish war.

«Our time disconnected will be anguish for us both. But know that I will carry on with our master's task until you awaken once more.»

For of course he would awaken; for of course, death would not arrive to ones so skilled as Skyquake nor himself.

How this moment hurt in hindsight.

How every moment hurt...

«I trust you will.»

The brothers went silent. In the absence of talk, all that hummed was their joint spark.

«It is my time» Skyquake spoke again, much later. «I must go into stasis or else I shall be forced to consume Lord Megatron's fuel sources on this world.»

One final moment, they allowed their spark to swell in unity.

«Do as you must,» Dreadwing told him. «I shall reunite with you when our master commands it.»

Affection was strong from his twin.

How he missed that affection.

«Farewell, my brother» the other thought and then his side of their spark faded into silence.

Vorns later and Dreadwing would relive this very scene in his moments of quiet. As a memory, he could change nothing of the events that passed. Skyquake would always travel to Earth and fall silent. His reawakening would end in his death. Dreadwing refused to allow himself to waste away imagining otherwise.

But he still relived their conversation.

And sometimes, if he was sufficiently weak, he pretended he could add words of true farewell. Those that only a mech knowing it was the last time he would speak to another would add.

Until all are one, Skyquake

Until they were one once more.

And until then? Dreadwing would live with a half spark fractured in loss.


The seeker had received the coordinates from Soundwave, along with an alert to see his master before departure.

Dreadwing had risen from the floor of his quarters, breaking free of his meditation and mourning. Time was of the essence. Grieving could wait.

He found Megatron near the groundbridge control room. Behind his master stood Soundwave, silent as ever.

"Ah," the warlord spoke, gesturing at him to approach. "Dreadwing. I hear you are going to deal with our human pests?"

Before he could do any more than nod, Megatron was continuing.

"I give you full clearance to do so. But I thought it wise for my high command to know a decision I have made."

Of course, Dreadwing waited to hear the decision with respectful quiet. It made the warlord's sharp smile grow.

"Soundwave and I will be heading out to retrieve Starscream."

Despite thinking he would expect any statement, Dreadwing reeled at the comment.

What?

"That traitor?" he asked.

Whatever smile had been there changed to a sneer and then a frown.

"Yes," Megatron hissed, "Him. But before you assume so, it is not to kill him."

What, what, what-

"My liege?" Dreadwing let his confusion slip through. "I am not following."

Making his height far more obvious, Megatron loomed over him.

"You do not have to," he growled.

Ever so slight, Soundwave shifted his weight. The tiny action made the warlord look behind himself at his 3IC.

When he looked back, the brief hostility was contained.

"We decepticons find ourselves facing our darkest hour. We have enemies converging and building on all sides. It has become evident that we require reinforcements. Starscream is a capable tactical officer and has vorns of knowledge of our plans. If he is to live, it is better that he be at our sides rather than against us."

Surely it was not his place to question his lord, but...

"Won't the traitor try to kill us all?" he asked. The question made Megatron chuckle.

"I believe that Starscream is loyal to the decepticon cause. His goal has always been to lead it, rather than tear it down, after all." Stepping back to stand by Soundwave, he continued to glare at his second. "I intend to put my prodigal lieutenant through the cortical psychic patch in order to confirm this theory. If it turns out I am wrong?" The warlord flashed fangs again. "I will remove the threat he poses us for good."

How very pragmatic of him.

But Dreadwing had always struggled to be a pragmatic mech. His master seemed to notice that confliction.

"You will, of course, remain my second for the time being," Megatron waved nonchalantly.

He assumed that was his worry. He assumed incorrectly.

"My concern is not regarding my position," Dreadwing shook his head. "I will go wherever you direct me to without complaint. I only worry about your own safety. It does not seem wise to welcome a traitor back into our ranks."

"That is not your concern," the warlord replied, "But my concern is that you will not accept this change."

Immediately, the seeker shook his head.

"It is not my place to question your decision," he reassured, "I will not fight you on this and I will not fight him; not unless he threatens you."

Once again, Megatron sneered. "Do not. Infighting has almost destroyed us before. Now, as we face this darkest hour, we cannot afford to be divided nor distracted by personal, trivial missions of unimportance. Understood?"

There could only be one response to that.

Dreadwing nodded.

"Good," his master grinned, "Your loyalty is always so inspiring for the troops. We shall leave you to your mission, then."

His steps were heavy as he walked past his superiors into the control room. Despite himself, he felt strained, frustrated.

There was no time to indulge such petty irritation.

The groundbridge transported him to a quiet compound on Earth's surface. Above, the sky was dark in one of the planet's night cycles.

As tall as he was, able to look out over building tops, Dreadwing believed he could see that this facility was larger than the last one he had attacked. More enemies with their modified weapons to face. More distractions from whatever vehicons remained alive here in M.E.C.H.'s labs.

No. There was no time at all.


Airachnid had almost given up on the autobots. If not for the vorns of hunts, she'd have impatiently believed they would not comply with her.

Thankfully, those vorns of hunts had made her a very patient femme.

So she hadn't neglected her little pet just yet. It was easy to find out the staples of a native species. For humans, it was water and their 'food'. Water was the most important bit. The human could live without food for a while.

The hostage situation reminded her of a few other planets she'd visited. On Tauii, she'd created little outposts that she'd kept a few natives hidden at. Always just a single one; they'd hear that they were special, alone in capturing her attention. They'd all be promised something; their broodmates, their throne. It didn't matter what. It wasn't like she was telling them the truth when she swore the gifts were coming.

At the end, she'd let them free. Let them see that there were other Tauiian's she'd told the same lie to.

And then told them to run.

It was so much fun to watch them run.

Her favorite had survived the longest. She'd taken his head for it and hung it in her hall of fame. Really, he should've felt honored to make it there.

Then that cursed Jack and Arcee had destroyed her ship and her hall of fame in one go.

She had no plans to let them get away with it.

At the same time, Airachnid was getting older. Not even cybertronians were immortal. Eventually rust set in in some way or other.

If she had to die, she wanted it to be on her terms. She wanted it to be prolonged so that the rush could last for a lifetime more. Perhaps that was why she found herself taking more risks as of late.

The more risks she took, the better the payoff. Either exquisite suffering from those who'd ruined her trophy case or a painful end far preferable to the helplessness of age-related burnout. And if they almost managed to kill her but she still came out on top? Delightful all the same. Airachnid liked pain, so long as she was in control.

The more enemies she made, truly made with a vicious vendetta, the better those two odds.

A win-win in either circumstance, although killing them was far preferable to being killed.

Well, all things being considered, she had many options here. Perhaps she'd let June run. She still planned on hunting Jack that way. Arcee, on the other hand, hated being helpless. She hated having to watch as those she cared about were hunted or hurt. So that's exactly what Airachnid planned on making her do.

The rest of those victims on her vendata list?

Well, Knock Out and Breakdown would be tied together. Uprooting a partnership was always delightful. Airachnid hadn't chosen which to kill first or how, but those details were unimportant.

Starscream was pathetic, but he'd landed a place on the list as well; a low ranking place. She hadn't even considered what to do with him yet.

And Soundwave?

Well. He may be a problem. But even the most stoic of mechs could scream. And they were often more rewarding.

The autobot response rang through her makeshift throne room. It made the human jerk awake on the ledge. The cut on her arm had been covered with her jacket and nothing else. So long as it didn't kill her, why bother getting more first aid supplies for someone bound to die anyways?

"Look at that, honey..." Airachnid pursed her lips and read the message sent by the autobots.

Directions to neutral coordinates somewhere in the U.S. state of Arizona. Instructions to come alone with the human. Promise that they had her Tox-En and red energon supplies as well as the relics. The polarity gauntlet had been fun and the immobilizer was very good at making her enemies truly helpless.

All this for one human?

It was a stupidly unbalanced trade-off.

Although, their continued wording of 'the human' made her smirk. So they were attempting to depersonalize?

It seemed they expected June to die just as much as Airachnid herself did.

"Lovely. Looks like it's time for us to go," she said and slid from her throne. A quick order was sent through her insecticon hive. Come alone? She didn't think so.

"W-wh-" June shook off all vestiges of stasis, well, sleep, and moved away from Airachnid's reach.

Aw, cute. She was still terrified. And here the femme had thought they'd gotten so close lately.

"Don't be scared," she patronized. "There's nothing to be scared off.

The femme laughed lightly; her voice carried the mirth as it responded brightly. It did not seem to reassure the human at all.

"If I was going to kill you, I'd-" Airachnid broke her laugh to lean her face over June and lower her voice, "-do it in front of your friends."

With an admirable amount of gall, the tiny woman managed to twist away from the femme's reach again.

"The-ey're not going to let y-you," June said with exhausted bravado. "They'll s-send you to t-the hell you belong in."

All these different aliens, all their different molecular basis's, all their different cultures-

When it came down to it, they all said the same things.

Airachnid had yet to feel their truth.


Not many assumed Dreadwing could act with stealth. They were often those who mistook him for Skyquake. His brother had never had a taste for secrecy. But Dreadwing had no qualms with setting traps and catching opponents off guard. The bombs in his subspace were proof of that.

At this moment, his stealth was not intended to set traps. Rather, he planned to find and rescue any surviving vehicons before confronting the humans of this operation. Beginning combat too quickly would only cause undo danger to the hidden captives.

Priority set, Dreadwing crept forward in the quiet compound. According to the information packet Soundwave had scraped together, the vehicons were being held in the second-to-largest building here. It lay nearby, long and flat. Dim yellow light shone from a bulb outside its main door. Human cameras were attached nearby.

But the decepticon spymaster had disabled them. They would catch no sight of him as he crept forward.

Careful not to create too much noise and attract the humans in that way, Dreadwing moved for the building.

The sight inside took him off guard.

Low yellow lights illuminated rows of still vehicons. They lay flat, other than a few crunched into fatal shapes on the side on the building. Cables, wires, and tubes attached to machinery and tanks impaled them in different spots while other more planative devices were attached over vital organs.

There were no bonds.

Somehow the lack of restraints chilled Dreadwing even more than the alien cables did.

Taking a moment to still himself for what he needed to do, the seeker moved for the line. He crouched by the nearest vehicon. There was no external way to distinguish him from any of the others except for the injuries given by the humans.

The red visor flared up at him.

"W-wh-o ar-e y-yo`u?" he stammered, static interrupting his enunciation. Messy glyphs slid into the attempt at speech; a sign of injury, perhaps even to the vocalizer, and of stressors.

The question itself was far more important than any vocal delivery. Who are you? So then...Had he been a prisoner of M.E.C.H. since before Dreadwing had arrived? The chances seemed higher that this vehicon had merely been on Earth guarding a mine and oblivious to the political turmoil on the Nemesis.

These humans took those who merely waited to protect the miner class at non-vital mines. Dreadwing wanted to think that was a line the autobots wouldn't even cross; but the files Soundwave kept on XL-2M99's injury seemed to prove that assumption wrong.

That was not for here and now.

"I am commander Dreadwing," the seeker answered evenly. "I am here to bring you home."

The drone struggled to reach for him, but the machinery kept his arms down. Dreadwing tore away the cables inserted by the humans so that the vehicon could reach him.

The action loosened energon; the fluids spilt over both mechs and rolled away on the concrete ground.

"Who are you?" he asked in return.

A part of him expected to hear the designation of XL-2M99's friend.

"X-XL-1S-S~`N...1-" the vehicon managed.

"XL-1SN1, you are leaking energon," Dreadwing said, "You must hold still. I will-"

The seeker jerked backwards when the vehicon gripped his faceplate with wet servos. Mangled servos; wires hanging out and ripped metal jagged against his chin.

"No tim`e," the drone hissed, "N`o ti.~me. G-get them o~`ut. B-ef`or.e cha'`nged."

Although the sudden surprise had made his spark spike up, Dreadwing forced calm over himself.

"I will get all of you out," he reassured, moving to stand and lift the vehicon with him. XL-1SN1 did not allow him to. The grip on his face tightened.

"Don`-t y-ou und`.e-erstan`d? We` will tur,.n on y`-you. Chan~.ged. Turne'd o-on y`ou."

The drone raised itself until its rusted face was just touching Dreadwing's frozen one.

"Tu'rne_d o'n u-us. Stop u-us be` we c-can tu`~rn. D-do yo-o.`u und`.erst-tand?" XL-1SN1 repeated frantically.

To be forced by an alien, whether just your corpse or your still living spark, to fall upon your brothers? It would be far worse than death.

And even so, he had promised to do his best to return the vehicons to the Nemesis alive.

"I do." Dreadwing nodded.

It was the only relief XL-1SN1 needed before falling back to the cluttered ground once more.

A quick scan revealed the worst: dead.

Dreadwing folded the vehicon's arms over his chest and stepped away. The fluids from the cables he'd torn lose continued to stream out, pooling under the deceased drone.

There were others still. He approached the next and found him dead. The spark seemed to glow still but there was no processor activity. The helm was opened and emptied. Even a polished warrior like himself had to shudder at such a sight.

Rows of vehicons seemed to be in the same state. It was enough to make his plating crawl with discomfort and rage.

But such anger had to remain tampered. He must remain calm and find those vehicons that still lived.

There was another; near the end of the row. His servo twitched periodically. Dreadwing moved over to this still living vehicon's side and watched his head shift to stare up at him.

Alive, alive- he would save this one. If none of the others...

"What is your name?" Dreadwing asked. The vehicon's vocalizer garbled worse than the first but managed to say it out.

"X...L-8`~.K-9..C`.'"

XL-8K9C. It was the one that the medic had asked him to find.

"Listen to me." The seeker's bombastic voice remained steady. "Focus on your sparkbeat." It has grown erratic in shock at seeing another cybertronian, at hearing another's voice. An erratic spark was often a precursor for shock related death. "Your friend XL-2M99 is looking for you. I am going to bring you back to him."

The vehicon reacted sharply. He tried to lift up, tried to take Dreadwing's offered servos, tried so hard to listen to the command to stay online.

But it didn't matter how hard he tried. A spark could not be told to wait when its time had come.

Dreadwing stayed by the corpse some time. His fists were clenched and shaking.

This had been XL-2M99's brother, or someone who mattered similarly. This was someone who'd had a loved one waiting for them to return.

A wait that would never have a happy ending.

Another brother lost.
Another brother Dreadwing had sworn to protect and failed to keep alive.

The seeker roared to the sky beyond the roof as he felt his split spark fracture further in grief.


AN- Side note about the title: transference is a hypothetical psychological term wherein someone 'transfers' their own thoughts or something they've learned to expect from someone else (typically a relative) onto their therapist (countertransference is when the therapist is the one transferring their thoughts or memories or a reaction onto the patient, and it is typically trained out of most licensed counselors as best as the school can). The title is named after this hypothetical phenomenon because Dreadwing has, for the last good section of chapters, been 'transferring', so to speak, his relationship with his brother and the grief of his death over to the vehicons, most specifically being XL-2M99 and XL-8K9C.

No, it's not accurate to what the term transference is intended to mean (that's limited to the therapist/patient situation), but it is in some ways similar.