Unlike the last time he met them face to face, Frenzy and Rumble don't look murderous.

That doesn't mean Spike is calm and relaxed.

"The disk. Now." The red and black Cassette orders, extending a servo, and the teenager exchanges a look with Chip.

The sound of explosions, blaster fire and engine roars is muted inside the thick laboratory walls and its twisting corridors, but it's still audible.

This Decepticon raid isn't about energy, but weapons. And the schematics of such a new tool, or part of it, are only in Chip Chase's hands in the shape of an inconspicuous blue disk, because they've deleted them from the main computer.

The lab, with the exception of the two teenagers and the Cassettes, is deserted.

And structurally sound, fortunately, since no other Cybertronian has decided to come inside.

With a barely noticeable nod, the humans make their decision, with Chip tossing the disk down with enough strength to dent, and Spike stomping on it until just slivers of plastic and ruined microchips remain.

Two pale pink visors observe them before the Decepticons lunge, pushing the boys away, but judging by Frenzy's angered beeping—cursing, most likely—they've done their job well.

"You'll pay for that." Rumble hisses, arms turning into pile-drivers—

Spike yelps as the small earthquake throws him back to the ground, and as parts of the ceiling start to fall, the Cassettes run out.

The teenager rushes to Chip's side, helping him get back on his chair and pushing them away through the miraculously intact corridor, back to the entrance of the isolated laboratory and the grass-covered field the battle is taking place in.

Without Rumble smashing the ground, though, the building stays standing, even if there are cracks and small chunks falling from the walls and ceiling.

Why wouldn't they finish the job?

Knowing better than to rush out, Spike stops just at the entrance, both him and Chip covering their eyes from the cloud of dust seeping inside.

When it clears, the battlefield comes into view.

Not unlike any other he's previously seen, and with no mech collapsing without apparent reason.

And then, something gray fills their view.

"Spike! Chip! You're alright! Wait, you are, aren't you? Because you're covered by dirt but there doesn't seem to be any leaking or dents but humans are weird so I don't really know and did you manage to find the information the Decepticons were looking for? What did you do with it? Do you have it with you? Did you delete it from—" And the relieved and slightly amused smiles the teenagers have on their faces vanish when the chatty Autobot's back explodes.

Bluestreak shrieks in agony, one doorwing pulling down while the other dangles by just a couple of thick wires, Energon falling down the plating in tiny but multiple rivulets.

Spike quickly turns back to the battlefield, just to see Mixmaster with a slightly smoking blaster pointed in their direction—

And a horrified expression on his faceplate, optics so pale that the boy can't distinguish their color.

With a murderous roar, something jumps on the Constructicon, who doesn't have time to even turn around, before lime green plating starts flying with metal shrieks and Energon sprays, the Decepticon's pained howls stopping after his arm is ripped off his frame, wires dangling in a macabre display.

Spike is more afraid of the pink-stained black and white frame and the flash of pure white where it should be blue, because it doesn't look like the mech is about to stop.

They don't say anything, and sometimes it's hard to believe when the battles on Earth are as they are, but Special Operations are supposed to be saboteurs, spies and, unlikely as such a thing seems, assassins.

He's seen some of the looks the Decepticons give Jazz, and the way one of the Reflector components ran away from the Autobot when he surprised him once is more than proof enough that, despite his easy-going behavior, the Head of Spec Ops is dangerous.

But even Jazz is looking horrified as Prowl sinks his servos into Mixmaster's shredded back to keep ripping him apart, doorwings held high and wide and a snarl so full of rage on his faceplate that would be better on the face of a demon.

With an incensed roar, Scrapper rushes forward to defend his Gestaltmate, the Autobot SIC whirling around with completely pink servos curled like claws—

And something falling from the sky slams the Constructicon to the ground with a loud clang, stopping the others at his back as if they'd slammed into one of Trailbreaker's force fields, and Prowl is left glaring into an equally snarling Starscream, wings spread as high and wide as his doorwings.

Time itself seems to stop.

The Datsun's engine is roaring menacingly, and the Seeker moves so that he's standing in front of a still prone but active Scrapper, if his pinkish visor is any indication, before his turbines come to life to answer the animalistic sound, dirt swirling around his pedes.

A hissing sound like that of a chainsaw escapes through Prowl's lips as his snarl deepens, mouth opening, and Starscream returns it with a higher pitched one.

Movement at the corner of his eye makes Spike whirl to see Ratchet slowly approaching the humans and Bluestreak, who is hunched down with a servo on the shoulder the most damaged doorwing is hanging off of.

A new engine roar forces him to turn to the standoff, only to see the Tactician glaring at the Medic with even more heat than he was the Seeker.

Ratchet's only answer is to lift his servos in an 'I'm unarmed' gesture—

Tiny wisps of lightning streak over the ambulance's palms and dactyls, and Prowl turns to Starscream again.

Without waiting a second more, the Autobot CMO runs to the injured Doorwinger's side, what sounds like a Cybertronian curse escaping through his lips as he takes a cable from his forearm plating and jacks it into Bluestreak's systems before starting with repairs.

The gray mech relaxes minutely, and Spike deduces he's been 'injected' a painkiller, or something of the like.

There's a soft clicking sound from where the SICs are glaring at each other, and the boy looks at them just in time to see Prowl growl again and lift an Energon-covered servo—

With a sound like a shot, Starscream barrels into the Doorwinger, turbines spewing licks of bluish flame, both of them rolling a couple of times before breaking apart, once more standing in crouches with wings spread wide and dactyls curled claw-like.

Prowl is standing almost at the end of the lab, and the Seeker is just in front of a damaged Bluestreak, a horrified Ratchet and two terrified humans.

The Praxian's optics flash with a hiccup of his engine as he realizes their position, doorwings jerking in surprise—

The wall by his side collapses, Frenzy and Rumble rushing out with proud smiles—

"Boss, we have the sche—"

—and stop so suddenly that they fall to the ground in a pile of tangled limbs when they are met with white optics and Energon-stained plating.

There's a high-pitched bleep from somewhere in the battlefield that Spike knows it's Soundwave's, but Prowl is growling and snarling again—

Starscream warbles something just before he falls to his knees, wings low but still spread wide.

The Tactician is completely silent, faceplate emotionless and white optics turning slightly blue.

For an eternity, there's no sound, no movement, nothing.

And then, Prowl's engine rumbles in a warning as he takes a step forward.

Slowly, as the Autobot approaches, the Seeker gets back to his feet and starts to move away from the Medic and his patient in a wide semicircle, never turning away from the Praxian, as neither does the Energon-stained mech.

When he finally gets to the Cassettes' side, they both scramble to their pedes and barrel into the Flier with enough strength to make him stumble, chirping fearfully as they bury their faceplates into white and red plating.

Not looking away from Prowl, the Decepticon SIC pulls them closer to his chest with one arm—

And, wings still low, he engages his turbines to fly over the still frozen mechs, landing next to where the Constructicons are loading their damaged Gestaltmate inside Astrotrain's shuttle mode, the two Cassettes transforming to get inside Soundwave's chest compartment as soon as he's close enough.

Slowly, all Decepticons pull away to get inside the Triple Changer, Megatron, anger boiling hot enough that the very air shimmers around him, also stepping away from Optimus to join his troops.

"This isn't over, Prime." He hisses before the shuttle's bay doors close, only the Seekers and Coneheads staying outside as Astrotrain takes flight, following him as some kind of guard.

Starscream is the last one to get to the air, having to lock his wings before doing so, and using the extra second to give a now calm-looking Prowl an indecipherable look.

"Ratchet." The humans let out startled yelps at the Tactician's calm and emotionless voice, but the Medic keeps working like nothing, Bluestreak leaning against him limply and with his optics black.

"I've put him into stasis. The damage is severe, but I'll be able to repair him once we're back at the Ark, and he'll pull a full recovery in a couple orns." The SIC nods minutely, optics still trained on the no longer visible Decepticons, as Optimus and Jazz approach, the rest of Autobots transforming and driving away.

When the unconscious Bluestreak is carefully pulled into Prime's trailer with Ratchet, the Tactician transforms, pink staining the police car as if it was dried mud, while the Porsche takes Chip up, chair and all, and follows their example, his own changes different than usual to adapt to the human in his grip.

When the driver's door opens, Spike climbs inside without a second thought, but doesn't even fake driving by putting his hands on the steering wheel, instead crossing his arms against his chest once the seat-belt is in place.

The passenger's seat is nowhere to be seen, with some kind of stoppers keeping Chip's chair in place while an extra long belt wraps around him.

And then, with Prowl by Prime's side and Jazz on the rear, they move.

"What happened?" The glasses-wearing boy manages to ask softly after a couple of minutes of silent driving.

"Mixmaster made the mistake to shoot Bluestreak." The saboteur answers calmly, though with unusual seriousness in his voice.

"But the 'Cons have shot at him before."

"Not the doorwings."

Silence falls as both humans exchange somber looks.

"Why did Prowl…"

"Bluestreak was a survivor Prowl dug from the debris, and they're both quite close. What you saw back there was a Doorwinger defending their newspark."

"Are you kidding?" Spike whispers, while Chip frowns in confusion.

"Afraid not, my mech. Someone hurt Blue, and Prowler got rid of the danger. He would've offlined all of the Constructicons if Screamer hadn't decided to drop in."

"Why did Starscream do that? And what was all that growling and snarling? And the wings! I thought fliers couldn't move their wings?" Chip asks, gesturing wildly.

"They can. They just don't usually move them because they're really sensitive, and keeping them immobile dampens their sensors." Spike answers instead, receiving a surprised look. "Here." He adds, taking out his notebook and handing it to the other boy.

And then, he turns to stare at Jazz's dashboard once more.

"Why did he do that?" He repeats while the other human is busy reading his notes.

"'Cause no other mech could've reasoned with Prowler back then. He was down to spark-code level."

"That was the Seeker secret language, wasn't it?"

"Yup."

"But Ratchet—"

"Ratch didn't 'speak', Spike. The only thing all Medics have in common is lots of sensors in their servos, so, to prove he was a Medic, he increased the energy flow to them 'till Prowler could sense just how many of them were there, and thus allowed him to get to Blue."

"He let Starscream get to the Cassettes too."

"Yeah, 'cause he surrendered. He proved he wasn't a threat to Blue and Ratch, so they exchanged hostages, in a sense."

"Prowl had claws." Chip speaks seemingly out of nowhere, gaze lost with the notebook open in his lap. "I didn't imagine that, did I?"

"No, you didn't. Both Fliers and Doorwingers have retractable claws."

"How come we didn't know about that?"

"'Cause they're used in hygiene and battle. Skyfire's big enough not to need them, and avoids fighting as much as possible, Bluestreak refuses to use them and Smokescreen doesn't know how to activate them."

"And Prowl?"

"Prowl has good control and aim."

"He's a Balance Finder, isn't he." Spike not-asks, startled at his own words but… Thundercracker's words and all he knows about the three Doorwingers suggest the Tactician is not like the other two.

"That's confidential information." Jazz answers without skipping a beat, and the teenager just turns to stare out the window.

Perhaps it's time he cleared his mind of unanswered questions by trying to ask the mech himself.

It isn't until the evening that Spike has a chance to talk to his target alone, mostly because Chip told them about the data the Decepticons apparently managed to get thanks to a secondary computer in one of the basement laboratories that the Autobots didn't know about, so there was a meeting, and then there were the obligatory visits to both the wash-racks and the Repair Bay, where there had to be some waiting to be done until Ratchet came out of the operation room, or the Cybertronian equivalent, to shoo the mech away after reassuring him of Bluestreak's health and the fact he would make a full recovery.

When the Repair Bay doors close at his back is when the teenager steps away from the wall, easily noticed by the Autobot.

"Can I help you?"

"I wanted to ask you a couple of questions that you really don't have to answer, but that would be better asked in private." He explains calmly, having had enough time to think his words.

Prowl simply nods before he guides the human to his office, locking the door once they're both inside.

When he's comfortably sitting on the table with the Tactician observing him from his chair, Spike balks.

Is he really ready to ask what he is?

"You should always ask, even if your questions may not be answered, but at least this way the other party knows you aren't knowledgeable about the subject, which helps identify possible misunderstandings."

Ironic, that it would be Starscream's words that would help him talk to Prowl.

With a deep breath to calm himself, Spike looks up into cool blue optics.

"Are you a Balance Finder?" He asks, deciding to go with the easiest question first.

"That is confidential information." The Tactician answers emotionlessly, and the boy just nods, having expected the answer, and steels himself for the next question.

"Bluestreak was a survivor Prowl dug from the debris, and they're both quite close. What you saw back there was a Doorwinger defending their newspark."

"It is worse than that. It came to the point Newspark Protoforms weren't available to all castes, so when a viable newspark was created, the carrier had to give it up. The creators never knew what happened to them. Most thought they were transferred to a frame and put to work as soon as they were extracted, treated as if they'd been created through Vector Sigma. But others… others suspected that only those the Senate deemed useful were released to work."

"What did the Senate take from you?" Blue optics flash white for a second, too quick for Spike to do more than tense, and then silence.

Utter and complete silence.

"Everything." Prowl finally answers, voice the softest of whispers and so pain-filled that the human feels as if he's been stabbed through the heart as the Second in Command turns away, doorwings lowering.

"Why didn't you join the Decepticons then?" He asks without thought, for Ratchet said they had risen against the corrupt government of Cybertron.

"Because they took what I had left."

"Prowl I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked, I—"

"No. You can't have information without questions. Besides, you are not at fault for what happened at the beginnings of the war, so apologizing for those events is illogical." The mech answers, voice calm and faceplate emotionless, but his doorwings aren't as high as before.

"But I can apologize for bringing the memories back."

"Regardless, my possessing them is no fault of yours. What is done is done, an apology won't make me forget." Cruel as he sounds, Spike takes no offense, for he knows that's just Prowl's way of telling him that he really doesn't have to apologize.

It doesn't mean he feels less guilty for bringing that up, but at least he knows better than to try to ask forgiveness again.

"Is there something else?"

"No, I… kinda blurted out the last question I wanted to ask, so that's all. Are you alright?"

"A bit low on fuel." He answers, and recognizing the change of topic for what it is, Spike can only smile.

"I know the cure for that!" He exclaims happily, standing up, and while he doesn't smile, Prowl's doorwings rising to their usual position is almost as good. "Can I come with you?"

"Of course. Perhaps you could help me with something. Jazz mentioned a certain rock concert…"

And as they walk to the Rec Room together, with the human explaining the intricacies of certain acts during a concert, Spike knows the Autobot SIC is just humoring him with his questions, but, taking into account Prowl's seemingly calmer mood, he decides not to call him on it.

Maybe he didn't really get any answers, but at least he's managed to get the workaholic Tactician out of his office, and how many, humans and Cybertronian alike, can claim that?

So, Spike finds himself the center of attention once they get to the Rec Room by simply sitting on a table and continuing the conversation, politeness dictating Prowl sit down too instead of retiring to his workplace or room, meaning that every single mech can see him talk about naked humans covered in mud coming together to listen to music while he calmly sips his Energon cube with the same seriousness as always.

The teenager has to force himself not to look too closely at some of the faces to avoid breaking down laughing.

Until, of course, someone decides they've had enough and all Hell breaks loose.

Or, in this case, there's some chirping and 'relaxed' Prowl turns into 'Autobot Second in Command' Prowl in less than it takes Spike to blink.

Feeling uncomfortable as the Doorwinger calmly puts his cube down and clicks something, the human carefully looks around.

Gears and Huffer's scowling faces, and the way every other mech is staring at them is more than enough to know who spoke, but not what.

"I said you have a lot of nerve showing your faceplate in here after the thing at the battlefield." The Minibot Hybrid scoffs, and the use of English makes Spike tense in surprise.

"Then allow me to rephrase my question. Why would you say that?" The Datsun answers calmly, cool blue optics turning to the smaller mechs.

"Isn't it clear enough, Decepticon sympathizer?"

The human's jaw drops, head whipping around to stare at Prowl's unimpressed face.

"Huffer." Someone hisses in a warning, but the Minibot just scoffs.

"Oh, right. My bad, I didn't mean to say that. I meant Seeker sympathizer."

The Autobot Second's optics flare paler, doorwings hitching higher and opening a bit, but there's no sound from him.

Spike slowly gets up and moves to the edge of the table, the hair at the back of his neck standing on edge.

"I suggest you drop the topic or ask Ratchet about a scan if you do not realize the reason why you should not pursue that line of code." The Tactician answers, colder than usual, and the teenager feels warm servos carefully pick him up to get him off the table, though he doesn't try to look away to identify his handler.

"Yeah, you're a Doorwinger, that's pretty obvious." Gears hisses, standing up and shrugging off Windcharger's servos when the other tries to stop him, Huffer mimicking him. "You should be the one going to see Ratchet, because you've obviously forgotten it was Seekers who leveled Praxus."

Doorwings snap all the way up and open with a whipping sound, so fast have they moved, and Spike flinches, curling into the servos holding him as he feels himself being held closer to the mech's chest plates.

Praxus. He doesn't know what the word means, but taking into account Doorwingers are often called Praxian, and Gears has said 'leveled'…

Could it be a city? The home of all Doorwingers?

"Decepticons destroyed Praxus. As they did Vos." Prowl answers even more icily than before, though not moving as the Minibots take a step closer, Windcharger moving away from them as the rest of mechs just observe, as frozen in place as Spike seemingly is.

"And that is the proof you're a Decepticon sympathizer. Vos." Huffer spits, engine snarling. "The City of Fliers, of Seekers, and you mourn for them, even after all they did?"

"They staid neutral while Cybertron got divided, true to themselves and unwilling to endanger their citizens by claiming a side in the upcoming confrontation."

"They supported the 'Cons!"

"They agreed with the ideology. As did Praxus. The Decepticons wished for change, equality, that frame types became secondary to the mechs. Freedom. If wanting that makes me a Decepticon sympathizer, so be it. I am a Decepticon sympathizer. As are all Autobots."

"How dare you!" Gears roars, slamming a fist on the table as he looms over the still sitting mech, Huffer by his side. "The Senate provided for all of Cybertron and saw to our needs. The Decepticons were nothing more than terrorists, power hungry slag-heaps with delusions of grandeur. The Senate gave us everything and they still—"

Prowl stands.

Both Minibots step away, as does Spike's handler and almost the whole of the Rec Room's occupants.

Doorwings are spread high and wide, tilted towards the snarling mechs and vibrating so little that the human can't see the movement, but can hear the soft buzzing and feel some kind of invisible charge make all the hair in his body stand on edge, and cold blue optics are almost white as they look down at the smaller Autobots.

"The protoform was purchased eleven orn before the approval of the Newspark Law, legally despite the high prices. The newspark was successfully transferred ten orn later. 1.64 joor after the Newspark Law was approved, a couple of the Enforcers' Special Operations agents took the newspark away to illegal facilities to be tested and assigned to a proper useful position. The Carrier met with the Prime and the Senate 0.95 joor after that, just to be dismissed for irrational behavior and told to calm down and let things run their course. 6.32 joor later, the carrier-creation bond broke. Look me in the optics and tell me again how the Senate gave us everything."

Silence.

Not even the most minute of twitches, the quietest whirr of gears or the click of metal against metal.

Even his heart seems to have stopped beating.

If he wasn't so shell-shocked, Spike's sure he would be crying.

He knows 'orn' are the Cybertronian equivalent of days, and, even though he has no idea what 'joor' are, he has the feeling they're less than orn when it comes to time.

The Newspark Law forced parents to give their children up to the government, never to know what happened to them.

And judging by Prowl's reaction when the human was told of that, he knows the story he's just explained isn't just a story.

The question is, whose side of it did he live through?

No longer snarling, both Minibot straighten, still staring defiantly into almost white optics.

"The Senate gave us everything and you're glitched if you don't see that."

Spike doesn't see what happens next, because one of the servos holding him forces him down behind the other, pressing him against warm chest plates as the mech quickly moves away, but he can hear the shrieking and crashing, so as soon as he feels his handler stop moving he pushes a dactyl away to poke his head through and know.

Prowl is on the ground, clawed pink-stained servos digging gouges into the ground as he strains to move, but Jazz standing on his back, black servos digging into the sensitive doorwings like the twins do the Seekers' wings when they use their Jet Judo, keep him still, for every time he tries to do more than twitch he can see black dactyls press harder or tug the metal plates in painful jerks.

Mirage and Hoist are by Gears and Huffer's side, the Medic patching whatever it is that is leaking so badly in the red mech's gouged out chest to coat his whole torso, frame immobile, while the noble is holding the Hybrid down to avoid him jostling his almost ripped out arm.

With a head-splitting shriek from the saboteur, the berserk Tactician finally stops his enraged engine roars and the litany of clicking and whistling, servos stilling, but frame shaking.

And then, visor white, Jazz looks up to glare at the only online Minibot, not moving an inch in case the Autobot Second decides to try to move again.

His low whirring clicks are obviously threatening, and Huffer trembles with fear warring with pain and anger in his faceplate.

The door opens and, with a whistled curse, Ratchet rushes to Hoist's side.

"What the Pit happened here?!" He roars, not sparing any other mech a look as he takes tools out of seemingly nowhere—subspace, the human realizes detachedly—and gets to work.

"This couple of glitchs decided they wanted a painful deactivation." Jazz snarls, the way he spits the insult making it obvious he can't think of an equivalent bad enough to use.

"I begged him…" All optics, visors and a pair of eyes go to the shivering black and white mech under the Head of Spec Ops' pedes, minus the Medics'. "I was Sentinel's Second, I begged him to give him back to me, I'd done nothing wrong, and the Law hadn't been approved when I transferred him… He was free of the Law, I had a date with the Iacon Repair Center for his examination, I had all the forms… And he just told me to forget about him… He was my newspark…" Slowly, Jazz lets go of the Tactician and steps off of him, and doorwings fall down to press against their owner, shaking even worse than before as he slowly gets to his knees, dark blue optics clearly unfocused. "I begged him to give me back my creation and he told me to forget about him… I could feel his pain—" The usually emotionless voice breaks with static, Energon stained servos clasping white arms as the Autobot SIC hugs himself. "He was afraid and alone and hurting and he kept calling for me, and I failed him…"

"Hush, Prowl, it wasn't your fault." Jazz whispers, getting to his knees to pull the distressed Doorwinger closer, visor still pale and focused on the still unconscious Gears, who is no longer bleeding, and the unrepentant Huffer glaring at them, even as he puts his chin on top of the Tactician's helm and starts to rock him softly. "You did all you could do, it's not your fault."

"He needed me and I wasn't there…" The Autobot SIC whimpers, pressing closer to the other black and white but not releasing his plate-denting hold on his arms. "He was mine and I failed him…"

"Prowl…"

The chirring that answers the saboteur's whisper is completely different than all the other clicking and whistling sounds the boy has heard before, and he knows the Doorwinger isn't speaking common Cybertronian anymore.

Spike blinks and the world blurs as warm liquid spills down his cheeks.

He hears his name being said as he starts to cry in earnest, silent sobs shaking his body, and feels the grip on himself loosening as his handler moves, walking out of the Rec Room and, when he feels the cold wind ruffling his hair, out of the Ark.

"Hey, it's alright kid. Do you want me to get Skyfire? He can get you home faster." When he looks up, he recognizes the blob of red, silver and blue by the voice instead of the image, but he knows there's worry on Cliffjumper's face by how softly he has spoken.

He can just shake his head in a negative instead of giving a verbal answer but, when the Minibot makes to put him down to transform, he grips the red chest plates as best as he's able, whimpering.

"Can you… s-stay like this a b-bit more?"

"Sure thing, kid." The Autobot whispers, moving so that the cold desert air doesn't get to the human anymore, one warm dactyl rubbing the teenager's back soothingly. "Take all the time you need."

And Spike does, crying himself to a dreamless sleep for a broken friend and the child he never had the chance to know.

AN: I'm sorry. I swear I'm sorry, I... I don't know what I was expecting this chapter to turn into, but I swear it wasn't this.

Well... at least you know Prowl's 'secret' now.

My apologies if he seems a bit out of character, but he had a bad day, what with dealing with the very real possibility of someone taking away his adopted creation, confronting a Seeker (a frame type brother) and having him understand what Blue means to him and thus not harming him further when he had the chance (making it be a Seeker dealing with a Doorwinger instead of a Decepticon dealing with an Autobot, and now add what Prowl said about blaming Decepticons for the destructicon of Praxus instead of Seekers. That should tell you more than enough about his opinion on Seekers), Spike's questions digging even more into painful memories than the previous events managed to push back to the forefront of his thought and then the thing with Gears and Huffer. I think he had more than enough reasons to be a bit twitchy and more into the past than he would usually allow himself, but that's just my impression...

Also, to Gears and Huffer's admirers, or those that just simply like them or don't agree with what happened in this chapter, I don't intend to bash them or make them 'the Bad Guys'. I just believe everyone has their opinions, and that working together doesn't mean sharing the same opinions, with some more deeply ingrained than others because of their experiences or what else, and they just turned out to be the ones in this situation that would happen to speak up. I believe Mirage thinks like them, he just wasn't there when things went South. And yes, Cliffjumper, King of Decepticon Haters, does not agree in this instance. He has his reasons (one is called Snarl).

Once more, I'm sorry. I can't say I'm not happy with this chapter because I would be lying, but I can honestly say I hadn't intended for it to turn this way, neither in the first nor the second parts.

Qwertzu: Great Spanish! Far better than my German, and it's only been two years since my last lessons, so congratulations. And yes, Skywarp wouldn't be himself if he didn't have some petty revenge under his plating, regardless of him knowing Spike didn't mean to mess with Starscream, if only to remind him that Screamer is his Trinemate and thus his to tease, not a puny human's.

And while it's true, in my headcanon at least, that you don't need to like your Trinemate to be Trine, or any other bondmate to be bonded, for that matter, since bonds are just energy exchanged by the sparks, not some kind of love-connection (yes, pretty cold and impersonal, I know), that doesn't mean you can't like your bondmates. And as you said, they've been together for millions of years, at the least. However, you have to take into account the who and where: a Decepticon in an Autobot cell. Would any self-respecting Decepticon admit to liking their peers in such circumstances?