Well, all of you are welcome to laugh at me this month. Every year, during the month of November, I participate in NaNoWriMo. This year I was particularly busy, so I took the time to remind my self periodically to begin my writing regimen on November 1st. On the 21st I reminded myself of that once more, only to look down and finally come out of the brain-death that was keeping me from connecting the dots that it was already November. So, having done such a silly thing, obviously I did not get any NaNoWriMo writing done. Thus I bring you a November Chapter Update.

Enjoy!

Chapter 16:

"…and now I have brothers just like you! And even before they knew I was their brother they loved me, but now they'll love me more! And we can do brother stuff together and be a proper family, but you'll have to show me how to do that because I never got to be a brother before, or maybe I just don't remember it, 'cause I had a family, but they were just pretending to be my family and I don't remember if they had other sparklings."

Sunstreaker cuddled the babbling grey youngling and paced with an amused look. ::Show him how to be a brother, huh.::

The golden twin had been transmitting the entire one-sided conversation to his brother over their bond and the trepidation flowed freely between them. ::We've never been normal, how are we supposed to teach him what we don't know?!::

::We teach him all the things we always wanted to do and be, then we teach him what we do know. How to protect his family from those who would destroy it.::

Their resolved firmed between them. This bright little spark depended upon them and they would let their halved spark extinguish before they failed him.

"Well bright spark," Sunstreaker said, going back to the physical conversation. "If you wanna be a proper brother there's a couple of things you absolutely have to do. The first of which has to do with Prowl's 'friend' Jazz…"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Prowl flew furiously through the work on his desk. Supply requisitions, brig occupancy stats, training schedules, and the like flew into and then out of the Praxian's servos. While datawork such as this was always done with efficiency, this new level of speed was pure distraction. For stopping, meant thinking. Thinking, meant questions. Like, why did they not investigate further when they discovered the doctor had committed malpractice? Why didn't they keep tabs on him after? They were both enforcers, for Primus sake! It was no excuse that it was during the final, most violent orns of his tenure with Sentinel. It was certainly no excuse that he had been avoiding any mention of family to protect them.

Prowl clenched his fists against the desk top, denying fervently the tears streaming down his faceplates. He tried so hard to protect his loved ones. Why, why did he always end up failing them?! Why could none of his plans be successful where his family was concerned?!

As the self-recriminations began to consume him, Prowl felt strong servos cover his own and a warm chassis come to rest between his doorwings.

"Shu, mah Prowler, shu. You jus' tell meh who Ah gotta eviscerate fo' makin' ya cry, hmmm?" Jazz crooned in the distraught Praxian's audial.

Prowl melted into the comforting embrace, but Jazz's statement made him laugh mirthlessly. "Unless you are willing to kill me, Jazz, that's an empty promise."

Jazz released him swiftly and Prowl felt a pang of cold at the abandonment, despite expecting it. He did not expect Jazz to seize his chair, pull it out from the desk, and spin it around. Prowl clutched at the arms to brace himself against the movement and looked down at the now crouching saboteur. Jazz lifted Prowl's servos into his own and began massaging them gently.

"Now Prowler, why don' ya jus' explain whacha mean by tha' statement ta meh." Jazz demanded softly.

"I… I failed my brother." Prowl sobbed. "Because of my incompetence he has been gravely hurt."

Jazz was confused. He could see that Prowl was hoping for absolution, but the saboteur did not know what he was referring to. "Um, Prowl, Smokescreen is fine, Ah jus' saw him out by tha holotables."

Prowl shook his helm. "Smokescreen and I have another brother. We thought him deactivated, but he has been found to be very much alive. This oversight is purely due to my negligence."

Jazz gave him a cock-opticked look, despite the visor. "Now how is any o' tha' ya fault?!"

So Prowl told him the whole sordid story. By the end Jazz had released his servos and was now cradling the Praxian's face in his servos. "Oh Prowler, this's why Ah love ya so. Ya take on such big responsibilities; hold tha weight o' tha world on ya shouldas, bu' not everythin' tha' happens in this world is ya fault."

Prowl tried to move his helm away, to protest, but Jazz was adamant. "Bad thin's happen ta good mecha Prowl. It don' matta' how much ya plan, or how many precautions ya put in place, slag's still gonna happen. This thin' tha' happened ta lil' Blue was out o' ya control n' ya gotta stop beatin' yaself up about."

Prowl looked at Jazz with distraught optics. "How can he stand to be around me knowing I did not save him?"

Jazz stood and kissed the Praxian's olfactory sensor. "Ah'm tellin' ya right now tha' lil' Blue don' care. Ya tol' meh yaself how excited he was to have a real family. Even if tha' thought has crossed his meta, he's fo'given ya. He would much ratha' have brothas ta snuggle wit' than brothas ta avoid while he holds a pointless grudge."

Jazz could see the hope start to fill Prowl's optics. "You truly believe so?"

"Yup, n' if ya don' believe meh ya should ask him yaself!" was the chipper reply. "Now ya jus' make yaself comf'table while Ah go get us some energon."

Jazz flitted out with a jaunty salute and wide grin. Prowl's wings fluttered at the solicitousness of his courtmate. He knew that if Praxus still stood there would be mecha questioning his decision to pursue a mech with so many prathama tendencies, but that was merely public-Jazz. Private-Jazz was very much a bija, albeit a strong-willed one and Prowl liked that challenge just fine. Thoughts of his courtmate prompted a review of their conversation. Prowl froze.

Jazz had said he loved him!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It took Jazz slightly longer than intended to return to Prowl's office as he had decided that the Praxian's emotional upset needed some soothing warmed energon with just a hint of spices. He stopped to listen at the door just in case some mech had stepped in for a private meeting but he heard only the faint sliding noise of a stylus in use. He entered with his usual pizzazz and slid one steaming cube in front of Prowl, then sprawled in the guest chair with the other.

Jazz could not help but notice that Prowl was regarding him with what appeared to be… awe?

"Prowler, everythin' alright?"

For a time Jazz did not think that Prowl would answer, then he did, sort of. "I hold you in very high regard and you are very special to me. I do not wish to alienate or reject your feelings, however, I am not yet ready to return the sentiment you expressed in our earlier conversation."

Jazz cast his meta back to referenced exchange trying to remember what Prowl was so obliquely talking about. Then, he remembered.

"Oh Prowler." He said empathetically. "Ah didn' mean ta spring tha' on ya. 'S alright if ya don' feel tha same yet."

Prowl shook his helm vehemently. "It is not that I do not feel… To return your feelings… Such a thing would make me… vulnerable."

The confession was hesitant and Prowl was looking off to the side by the end. It made Jazz's spark ache. "Who hurt you Prowl?"

Prowl would not meet his optics. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

The Polyhexian laid his servo on the desk between them. Prowl hesitated, but gingerly placed his servo in the saboteur's. Jazz curled their digits together and stroked his thumb over the Praxian's digits. "Then ya wait Prowler, n' Ah'll keep lovin' ya in tha meantime. 'N when ya are readeh ta tell meh, Ah promise ta lis'sen all tha way through. When it's all over Ah might be sad n' vengeful on ya behalf, but Ah'm'a still love ya to tha moon n' back."

It was moments like this that made Prowl feel like the bija in the relationship, but he would trade away proper roles for this all-pervading warmth every time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They had almost finished their meal when the door burst open and a hyper, excited Bluestreak hopped in. He bounced around the room, then headed straight for his brother to give him a huge hug. "Prowl! Sunny and Sides have been telling me about how to be a good brother! And then they took me to the practice rooms so I could ref… ref'ree their match. They also promised to teach me to fight so I can protect my family when I get big! Then they took me to the eyrie so I could meet Cosmos and Sunstorm. They're gonna be my friends in school, but not my best friends, 'cause that's Sunny and Sides. But Sunstorm wasn't there 'cause Bee took him to get his colors repainted. 'Parently some meanie put a 'Ceptcon thingie on him, and…"

Prowl halted the stream of words with an interjection. "Bluestreak, I know the twins are your first friends here, but your best friends should be mechlings your age, not adult soldiers."

"But they ARE my age!"

Prowl sighed and smiled. "Little one, while I will agree with you that they both act on the same maturity level as you the majority of the time, they are in fact both second frame adults."

Bluestreak shook his helm again. "Nuh uh, Sunny told me, lower level Kay-nites don't get third or fourth youngling frames or first adult frames."

Prowl and Jazz both straightened noticeably and looked suspiciously at the door. The twins were standing in it, frozen, having caught up to the energetic mechling just in time to hear his last statement. They grinned weakly at the sternly frowning SIC, but to no avail.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Medical Wing, now!" Prowl ordered.

"But Prowl!" Sideswipe whined. "We're fine, it's been vorns since then and nothing has ever gone wrong with our systems."

Prowl's optics narrowed. "And since I note that you have said vorns and not centuries, the order stands."

The twins began to look mulish, so Prowl stood, dropped Bluestreak off in Jazz's lap as he came around the desk, and snagged the frontliners by their sensor horn or helm fin respectively. And all before either could even begin their turn to run away.

"Keep an optic on my brother Jazz, while I escort these miscreants to the medbay for a proper scan."

Jazz snickered at the woebegone looks on the twins faceplates and threw a salute in the SICs direction. "You got it. Lil' Blue n' Ah'll make friends while ya gone."

Prowl nodded and swept out with the twins in tow.

The door closed.

Jazz turned to ask the mechling what other adventures he had gotten up to, but Bluestreak was squirming to get down. The Polyhexian released the little Praxian, curious as to what he intended to do. Bluestreak climbed into the desk chair and used it to boost himself onto the surface of the desk. Once there, the grey mechling stalked to the end and frowned sternly at Jazz.

Oh, now that's adorable, Jazz thought, He looks like a mini-Prowl!

Bluestreak was standing with arms crossed, shoulders back, and tiny wings flared up and out. His little chassis was leaned slightly forward and his chin was tucked so the light would flash off the sharp edges of his little chevron. Jazz had to fight the urge to coo.

The adorably fearsome mechling raised an arched optic ridge and spoke. "Sunny told me sumpthin' important. He said brothers look out for brothers. He also said you're a liar."

Jazz had begun to nod his helm in agreement, but stopped when the last sentence registered.

"Hey, Ah'm no liar n'Sunstreaker ought ta know better than ta fill ya helm wit' falsehoods like that!"

Bluestreak shook his helm vehemently. "Nuh uh, you said you were makin' dinner tah be nice, but you just wanted him to like you and in-er-face with you!"

Now Jazz frowned. "Did Sunstreaker tell ya tha'?"

"Sunny said you like Prowl more than friends and that you wanna in-er-face, which makes you a liar, 'cause you said you were just my brother's friend."

Jazz leaned forward in his chair and smoothed his facial expressions so the mechling would have no doubts as to his sincerity. "Bluestreak, Ah need ya ta let meh explain n' Ah need ya ta lis'sen instead of jumpin' ta conclusions."

Bluestreak huffed, but plopped down into a cross-legged sit. Jazz interpreted that as permission.

"In Polyhex, where Ah come from, younglin's 're not told 'bout interfacin' until they're in their fourth frame n' their facin' equipment is installed. Ah didn' know if Praxus did things diff'rently, so when ya caught meh in ya kitchen Ah treated ya like Ah would any Poly sparklin'. If'n Ah'd known ya'd alreadeh been educated on tha' subject, Ah'd'a tol' ya what Ah was doin'."

Bluestreak's faceplates softened, but he still looked unconvinced. Jazz slipped out of his chair and knelt before the little mech.

"Since ya're aware of proper courtin' stuff Ah need ta ask ya somethin' important. Ah love Prowl, wit' mah whole spark kinda love, n' Ah wanna bond wit' him someorn. Would ya give meh ya permission ta court ya brotha'?"

Bluestreak stood back up on the desk and refolded his little arms. He looked conflicted, but then he seemed to come to a point of resolve. "Yes, you, may. BUT! If you hurt him I'll do something awful to you!"

Jazz smiled and nodded. "So, didja arrange all'a this wit' Sunstreaker n' Siders ahead o' time?"

"Uh huh!" Bluestreak replied with a ginormous grin. "Sunny said it's tra-di-tion to threaten siblings' potential lovers. And I'm gonna be the best brother ever!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ratchet glared at the recalcitrant twins sitting on his medical berth. The youngling twins.

Their heavy-weight racer class frames were in pristine condition and their colors glowed with health. Their sparks even gave the surface illusion of adequate output. Ratchet, however, had just subjected them to the same battery of scans as Bluestreak, and he. Was. Not. Happy. With what he had found.

"So." He said with deceptive calm. "Would either of you like to save me the trouble and tell me your real spark age?"

The twins continued to sit in silent obstinacy.

Ratchet twitched sharply. "Well then, I'll tell you." He took a deep vent. "You LITTLE PITSCRAPS ARE FOURTH FRAME YOUNGLINGS! You should not even be eligible for first adult frames for several more vorns! And the GLITCHES that did this to you will beg for the Unmaker's mercy if I ever catch up to them! WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

"Because it was normal!" Sideswipe shouted back.

"What do you mean normal!" The medic exclaimed angrily.

Sideswipe huffed and pulled his arm out from where it had become pinned by Sunstreaker's weight and gestured widely. "Normal! As in, if you weren't a noble it was standard! There was no reason for us to protest it because everyone went through it! We didn't even know there were other stages to younglinghood until we met Bluestreak!"

Ratchet's ire faded until he merely looked world-weary. It was unnerving to the twins who had become accustomed to the medic's verve and larger-than-functioning personality.

Ratchet slumped onto a stool. "There were reports coming out of Kaon saying that the youngling deactivation rate was three in four. The Medical Board in Iacon discredited them as rumor and hearsay and sealed the reports before they could be widely read. I believed the reports were real, but I was unable to acquire even a bootleg copy, so I always assumed the reason for such high death rates were due to lack of good energon."

Sunstreaker snorted. "Well, you weren't entirely wrong."

"Besides Ratch, we were lucky." Sideswipe piped up.

"Lucky." The medic deadpanned.

"Yeah. In Kaon there aren't any orphanages, the few charities that tried were drained of funds and energon by the gangs. All orphans and abandoned sparklings were rounded up vornly and sold to the pit bosses, then evaluated and sent either to the pleasure houses or the arenas. We were second frames when we were captured, but we were sold to one of the few 'good' pit bosses. Scythe did not run any pleasure house, as he personally found them offensive and he believed in letting 'his' younglings a few extra vorns to get strong. Even so, those younglings were taught the beginnings of the craft of the arena. He also didn't ever sell his gladiators' time either, he found it a waste of a good fighter to deal with the increase of injuries and lackluster performance after a gladiator was violated. The other pit bosses called him foolish, but his deactivation rate during reframing was half that of the rest of the pits and he boasted some of the most skilled gladiators in the region."

"Uh huh." Replied a nonplussed Ratchet. "And what was the life expectancy of those who upgraded early?"

The twins shrugged uncomfortably. "Dunno," the red one said. "Gladiators don't really last very long, there's always somemech better out there. Saber was the oldest trainer and I think he was just coming up on his tenth millennia, so pretty old."

Ratchet made a strange mournful sound in his vocalizer. "Sideswipe, I am barely considered to be in my prime and I am one hundred and forty-six millennia old. The average lifespan of our people is in the vicinity of one million millennia!"

"But Saber looked way older than you!" Sideswipe exclaimed in confusion.

"That, unfortunately, is a side effect of the premature upgrading." Ratchet said gently. "Little sparks can't power big frames for long and accelerated aging is almost always the result."

Now the twins looked frightened. "You mean that's gonna happen to us?!"

Finally, Ratchet could say something uplifting. "No, fortunately, for the both of you, your half sparks are stronger than most full sparks because they have been fighting and pulling to stay lit all their existence. Add in that the two of you must merge regularly to maintain your bond and you can both be assured that you will have a regular lifespan."

For the first time ever, Ratchet felt like he was seeing the real mechs behind the facades as the twins relaxed into their relief.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jazz examined his personal selection of virus chips and malware spikes. Once he was finished he intended to move on to his bomb kits and other incendiaries. By the time he finished he would be a walking purveyor of death and dismemberment. The first part of the plan to rescue the citizens of Cybertron required Prowl to visit the various Autobot bases under the pretense of routine inspection. There was no way that the Second in Command of the Entire Autobot Army was going to be permitted to go alone though. So, a security detail of Jazz, Cliffjumper, Steeljaw, and Digger would be going as escort. They represented the best Special Operations, The Armory's Special Forces, the Femmes' Espionage and Communications, and the Scout Corp had to offer. Technically, it should have been Hound going instead of Digger, but he was off on his bonding leave for the next decacycle.

Jazz finally completed his selection of digital nasties and was just moving on to the pyrotechnic widow-makers when he received a ping from Medical to get a temporary dock installed under his altmode roof for Steeljaw to sleep in. He returned the ping with a half-joor arrival time and received back a confirmation of his appointment followed quickly by a customary dire threat if he should not show up.

Jazz grinned and began boxing up explosives.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sunstorm was in love. It did not matter what the big mechs said, he was not too young to have found his destined mate. Uncle Thundercall had taken him to the seeker eyrie for a culture lesson while Kahti bumblebee worked his shift. When they arrived Uncle Spitfire was waiting to introduce his new cousin to him. The other mechling was the tiniest, most beautiful being Sunstorm had ever see, and he had seen the spark of Primus. Sunstorm had gotten so flustered that he momentarily lost control of his gift. As soon as he recognized the glow he had thrown himself backwards to save the beautiful mechling from being hurt. Uncle Thundercall checked the little mechling over, but he just exclaimed that it felt like warm tickles and could the new cousin do it again?

Sunstorm was smitten.

The tiny mechling introduced himself as Cosmos, a minibot orbital platform, and Uncle Spitfire explained that orbital platforms had super strong, radiation-proof armor and chassis, so Cosmos would never be harmed if Sunny lost control. After that the two younglings were set down in the atrium to learn about the history of Vos.

Sunstorm barely heard any of it; he was too busy concentrating on Cosmos shy grasp on his servo.

Starfire201: unfortunately, even Prowl is not perfect. We will be getting into the portion that parallels the cartoon soon, and I had to come up with a reason why none of the Autobots foresaw the Decepticons following them. And yes, poor Bluestreak, that event was actually the catalyst for writing this story.

CNightJoy: Thanks!

kkcliffy: glad to make your morning! Yes, it was a bit sappy, but with all the drama we needed a nice change. =)

Seademon: I have entertained the idea of a sidestory showing what happened to Sentinel after he died, but it got so gory and horrible after the second page that I discarded it, if that makes you feel any better.

RainbowGuardian13: thank you for the kind wishes even if I ended up not needing them, and good luck to your cousin! Cliffjumper will begin to have more of a showing in the story soon, gotta set up stuff for the next sequel.

child of Jon snow: thanks!