A/N: Requested by Silver.

Loved (By).

It was getting too much. It was overwhelming him; it was too strong – this battle. Brawn fell, Ironhide fell… the Decepticons were fighting Prime within physical distance. Thundercracker went down by his gun, Skywarp teleported out of danger. Starscream flew off to deal with his own agenda. He was losing count of who was where, who was still in the fight and who was out. Where was Megatron? The Decepticon leader and his second-in-command were out of his field of view, and yet the rest of the forces had not retreated. It did not bode well.

"Yearrgh!" Blitzwing stuttered from the rock defending Bluestreak's back and shot his weapon hand.

"No – wait!" Digits lurched out and lifted Bluestreak from the ground, crushing his neck inch by inch. His free hand pounded into Bluestreak's chassis again and again, dents becoming wider, deeper. "Help…me…" he called weakly to his comrades still standing. Blitzwing's face grew hungrier and hungrier, coming closer to slaking his sadistic desires. Bluestreak's chest buckled. It would give way – all it would take is two more hits. "Someone…please…" Blitzwing's hand plunged through and into Bluestreak's chest, clutching tightly and wrenching out his wires. The Decepticon grinned and shivered with pleasure when his captive shrieked as loudly as any sound in the battle. He paused to take in the moment.

"Night-night, Autobot b-" Blitzwing's chest exploded, sending sparking fragments into Bluestreak himself. The terrible hands wavered until Bluestreak was free to fall away. His body shut down from the pain.

There was this distant voice, calling him. Ah, yes – it was Prowl. And… he was being moved.

Prowl dodged across the Oregon plains, his young companion slung tightly over his shoulder, his grip as secure as if it was holding was holding on to Bluestreak's very spark. Rumble and Frenzy saw his approach. They took out their pile-drivers and began to shake the ground. Prowl pushed forward, balance unstable and nearly dropping his companion. He could see the trench in front of him – he could see where Ratchet had set up his field base. The ground turned and Prowl's feet failed. He shot his rifle at the Decepticon brothers but he missed them entirely. He could not do this on his own.

The Lamborghini twins had noticed the tapes and Prowl's efforts. Their optics narrowed, trying to discern what Prowl was carrying towards them, and then it all became clear. With one mighty roar, the gold and garnet twins chased toward the cassettes, knocking both of them to the soil. Prowl steadied himself and continued onward, the trench only metres away. As he passed the scrapping brothers, his allies turned to look at him. The faces said simply: save him.

"Ratchet!" Prowl called just as he jumped into the trench. His knees gave way and Bluestreak was jolted slightly, yet he made no noise. Ratchet turned from his administrations on Ironhide who was sprawled out against a wall. When he laid optics upon his next patient, a curse slipped through his teeth. The semi-conscious Ironhide gaped in shock. "Ratchet! Help him!"

"Let me close up Ironhide and I'll be with him as soon as I can!" Prowl laid Bluestreak out on the alcove's floor, shielding him from debris with his own body. Bluestreak was barely aware of anything going on around him. Those white figures… who were they?

"Prowl…" Bluestreak called out in desperation, not expecting an answer. A hand gripped his own.

"I'm here for you, Bluestreak."

"Prowl… don't leave me!" He knew despite his words that Prowl would have to go. He had other things to do – more important things to do to secure their victory.

Prowl surprised him.

"I have no intention to, Bluestreak," Prowl leaned in and kissed the younger Autobot on the helm. "You rest now. Ratchet will take good care of you." Bluestreak's eyes dimmed. "And I'll be here when you wake up."

End.