Title: Forsaken Prayer
Pairing/Characters: Implied onesidedJazz/Prowl, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Mirage, Beachcomber, Ratchet, Optimus Prime.
Verse: G1
Words: 3803
Warning: Vampirism.
Summary: Prowl gets a chilling surprise after a fierce battle with the Decepticons when he follows a trail of energon and finds out a horrifying secret about Jazz.
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers.
Notes: This started out as a dream which got a bit more elaborate after I woke up. XD

Enjoy!

Jazz spat out the plasma that had welled up from one of the burst tubes of his neck and clutched his badly scratched chassis tightly with a shaking claw. The deep gouges in his back were practically pouring out his plasma in thick violet flowing lines and every movement only made the pain rear it's head again -bleeding into the numbing ache of pleasure for those brief moments afterwards- as the natural motions pulled at damaged wires.

Ducking his head and leaning against the outcropping of rock, the pain of his injury driving his free hand into the solid cliff-side to clear out his irrational anger and trying in complete vain to rid himself of the hunger building as well.

Jazz couldn't show up at the ARK in this condition. The time and distance compared to the rate of his plasma flowing out of his injuries would have him mindless and crazed by the time he reached the crashed ship. Optimus Prime would never allow him close to the ARK once he sensed the state that he was in. Jazz knew why of course; he might attack a fellow Autobot, Blessed or Forsaken, and suck the plasma or life-energon from their systems until they were nothing but ash-gray metal and rust.

Which would only raise questions by the oblivious Blessed that resided among them. There were questions that the Forsaken Autobots would rather not answer -to ashamed to answer- and no one wanted to perform Processor Wipes on any of the Blessed either. It was the only alternative because once a Blessed knew of them, that Blessed was never the same. Coding so deep that only the virus of the Forsaken could touch and change it, drove a Blessed to flee that mech until their last sparkpulse.

It was something that the Forsaken aboard the ARK had learned to dread; the idea of performing a Processor Wipe and the idea of seeing nothing but fear in the optics of their Blessed comrades.

Unfortunately, if he was unable to approach the ARK that meant that Ratchet was going to have to come out here and supply him with a pack of plasma, or even life-energon so that the nanities within it could speed the healing progress, to guzzle.

At least after a plasma pack he could manage to walk down the halls without risking an accidental Hunger Rage; the inevitable course of action that would take place once a Forsaken was drained of plasma. That alone would earn him the eternal fury of his fellow Forsaken because it would be impossible to hide a Hunger Rage's results from the Blessed Autobots. Reaching up to his comm. link Jazz waited impatiently for the CMO to answer the call, gnashing his extending steel fangs in an attempt to calm himself down.

It wasn't working. At all. If anything the gnashing reminded his tainted programming of biting down on the soft pliable metal of a Blessed. Reminding him of the heady and arousing rush of life-energon slipping into his mouth and feeling the warm liquid sliding down his thro-

+Where the frag are you, you slagging saboteur!+

Jazz snapped from his wandering daydream with a lingering haze in his processor and answered with a voice laced with stress-induced static, "Happen ta be... on tha' outcropping few miles... from the battlefield... near the sea-side cliff." Jazz pulled the fist that he had punched through the solid rock out of the deep hole it had made and added as an absent afterthought, staring at his plasma covered claw, "Need some... immediate field repairs an' a drink."

+Jazz, what condition are you in exactly?+ Ratchet's annoyance had vanished from his voice. In it's place was nothing but grave seriousness. The tone set Jazz's already fraying nerves on edge and he furrowed his optic ridges as his optics began to glitch, shading the shadowed rock in hues of infrared.

He answered the medic through his now husky, hungry growling vocalizer, "Loosing plasma... fast Ratch'... Optics fadin' ta default settin'... need that field repair... quick Ratch'… I..."

Jazz cut off his own sentence as he breathed in slowly, exhaling equally as slow with a noticeable rasp. There was a steady pounding building in his processor from the massive errors he was getting from the rest of his systems. Each flashing red to alert him to how much each individual system was starving. He was loosing far too much plasma much too fast. His aroused fangs were starting to lengthen to their full size and he could feel the dark cold beginning to burn within him, starting at the back of his throat and threading upwards to his processor and slowly trickling down to the rest of his frame.

+Slag!+ Ratchet swore and then cursed loudly over the comm., the feedback causing a loud ringing to echo in Jazz's highly sensitive audios. +Slaggit Jazz! Stay focused! Prowl is still missing! We can't find him anywhere!+

Jazz realized what the medic was implying. They hadn't found Jazz because of where he was but neither had any of them found Prowl.

Casting his gaze around the deep pit he was in, rocks on all sides, he replied heavily, "Gotcha... Ratch', I'll be headin'... headin'... frag… no..." Jazz's optics flickered erratically as a sharp smell assaulted him. A sharp, delicious smell.

Jazz's optics turned dark violet under his visor at the scent of life-energon drifting through the wind and he subconsciously narrowed his senses on a small crevice in the rock walls around him.

Dread and desire battled in his spark as he heard the small sounds of pedes shuffling farther down the crevice, out of sight.

He hoped it was a Decepticon. He could attack a Decepticon without any remorse or guilt, in fact enjoy the chance to actually finish a meal to the last drop; but if it was Prowl… Jazz didn't know if he could stop himself from loosing control around the Praxian. His own affections and protective instincts for Prowl were a double-edged sword. Jazz wanted nothing more than to run, soundless escape this pit of rock and leave Prowl none the wiser.

His legs didn't move, rooted to the spot as he stared anxiously -anticipating- at the crevice. That cold burn that tickled and at the same time tore at his processor was twisting his emotions toward Prowl. The affection turning to primal lust. The protectiveness turning to dominant possessiveness.

It was proof that Primus rejected the Forsaken when Prowl stumbled into the pit, looking lost and bewildered- and his whole left arm covered and dripping life-energon.

Jazz swore mentally, pushing himself into the cliff wall with practiced silence and struggling to keep himself from lunging toward the intoxicating liquid. If he stayed still and in the shadows of the outcropping Prowl shouldn't notice him. He would move along and Jazz could comm. Ratchet so someone could pick up Prowl safely; someone who wasn't at risk for a major Hunger Rage.

Of course Primus couldn't be kind, wouldn't listen to the hopes of a Forsaken.

With growing dread, he watched Prowl's optics zero in on the plasma trailing the rocky ground; following it all the way to him. He hated the concern that completely enveloped Prowl's face. He hated the soft voice that called out to him worriedly, asking if he was alright. He hated that he could not control the icy hunger that was now forcing him to move toward Prowl. His optics flickering in and out of the 'enhanced' infrared that showed the network of energon pumping through Prowl's frame and only made his hunger greater.

He was loosing himself and Jazz knew it. Not Jazz anymore but a thirsty animal ruled by instincts that needed to drink the source of another being's life to survive. He was being forced into the backseat of his own body. Forced to watch as the animal got closer and closer to the Praxian.

"Jazz? What's wrong?"

"Nothin' is wrong Prowler." Jazz heard himself murmur slowly, vocalizer scaled deeper and lower. "Just a little drained."

Jazz pushed and pushed at the cold freezing him in himself, to splinter it's hold for a while longer. If he could hold out for the team that Optimus must have sent scouring the area for both Prowl and himself then everything could remain untouched and innocent.

It was selfish.

He didn't want to see the fear in Prowl's indigo optics and know it was he who caused it. Oh… but it smelled so good...

"Are you… Jazz... maybe you should sit down... you're bleeding heavily." Prowl whispered with wide optics, only the faintest of hints flickering in his gaze that showed Prowl suspected something was in fact very wrong.

"Ah, no Prowler. You see you can help me. You want to help me don't you?" The animal whispered back, coaxing Prowl with a tone as smooth and binding as silk. Instinct and spark were warring with each other, tearing Jazz apart from the inside. His spark protested angrily but Jazz could not resist the scent of life-energon so tantalizingly close. The animal kept spinning, "We are friends right? You wanted me to be your friend didn't you?"

Prowl looked surprised at his question if a little confused, nodding hesitantly as he looked more and more like those deer that stopped in the center of the road when Jazz was driving. His optics were wide and getting a little too bright, crashing into a mixture of white. His pedes were sliding back slightly as Jazz approached and Jazz doubted that Prowl even knew he was doing it.

Jazz could recognize the subtle signs of a Blessed beginning to understand that a Forsaken was before them and Jazz intaked harshly as he heard the life-energon within Prowl's body beginning to pump faster. His self-hatred was sky-rocketing at the words he whispered. They were words that were so well meant in the past but now being used to bring Prowl to this horrible fate.

His spark battered relentlessly against the animal driving his body, the part of himself that cared for nothing but surviving and his own well-being; not the life of others. Prowl would not survive this.

"That's good." Until now, his fangs had been hidden in the shadow of the outcropping. Yet as Jazz bodily shoved Prowl into the wall of rock behind the Praxian, scraping the fragile doorwings against the hard surface, he knew that the moonlight was now clearly showing off the large, chrome fangs in a mockingly sweet smile. "Good mech Prowler."

Jazz heard Prowl's engine stall for a full three seconds as his optics flew down and stared at the fangs smiling at him. Then Prowl's engine roared loudly through the silence, bouncing off the rock walls to make it twice as loud, and rapid intakes began accompanied by small whimpers.

Though full strength was being used the hands that were instantly at his chassis and trying to shove him away were pitifully weak. Jazz's spark would have wept if it could while he continued the mocking whispers of "It's alright." and shushing the Praxian like a youngling caught in a nightmare. All the while bright white optics stared at the fangs with growing terror spreading across his face-plates.

Jazz forgot himself completely as he lower his head to the Praxian's -what was his name, he knew before didn't he?- shoulder, dragging his glossa across the slightly overheated plating. The sweet electrifying crackle of life-energon hit his glossa like fireworks, filling his processor with a driving hunger. Shoving his spark's cries away as he brought his mouth down on the gap in the Praxian's armor that was releasing the liquid, he sucked hard with his glossa, moaning heatedly at the fresh life-energon filling his mouth.

Soon enough the arm he was leeching the fluid from began to falter on the insistent pushing on his chassis as the loss of life-energon cut away the limb's strength. The weakness only fueled the animal's desire, his instinctual programming recognizing a faltering prey and an easier meal. The gasping fearful protests coming from the Praxian made his head dizzy with that feeling of control and power.

The only disappointment was that there was no pain fused with those protests. He was not biting yet of course, so the sharp breach of his virus encoded fangs was not experienced by the luscious Praxian in his grasp. It would be soon though, he purred inwardly as he licked up the slowly depleting drops of life-energon.

For the moment however he could compensate with the weakness displayed to him and instead of pinning his prey with his hands, he slid the injured limb high so he could move closer and press his prey against the rock with his own body. The heat and vibrations speared through him prompting him to push harder against his prey. Out of control, hungry and he pushed until he heard the pressured sounds of metal scraping against rock as he tried to meld with those lovely vibrations. Moaning loudly, he sucked at the open wound with increased vigor.

All to soon, he felt the flow in the Praxian's left arm lessen completely and he pulled back, licking his stained lips of the fluid. His glossa brushed against his fangs and he could feel them throbbing for penetration. He wanted to bite. He needed to bite.

Sliding his violet gaze up to the neck cables of the Praxian, he smirked and buried his face into them, licking and mock nibbling to draw more frightened cries from his prey while trying to find the perfect one to begin his feast. The bright glow always centered around the neck cables and it drew any vampire with their infrared sensors online to it. Such a delicious area, the most attractive and in this moment Jazz had never seen one more alluring. So much life-energon, so bright, and all of it was his.

Finally, he growled excitedly as he found a main cable and he moaned at the feel of rushing life-energon traveling through it, thrumming against his lips. Jazz tensed before he even knew what it was that turned his relaxation in reverse. The sound of multiple, quick-paced pedes running full tilt toward him from all around, the sound of other Forsaken rushing to him… and his prey! Snarling possessively, he pulled back just enough to fully open his jaw-

"JAZZ! NO!"

He snarled again, ignoring the shout, and threw his face into his prey's neck, closing them as fast as possible. He felt the slightest touch of the cable on his fangs before two iron strong hands grasped his shoulders tearing him away and flinging him backwards through the air.

Jazz screamed, his vocalizer scaled far higher than normal as he crashed into a wall of stone and feeling his back's wounds splintering pain reignite. Turning violent optics on whoever dared to part him from his prey; he growled, low and guttural in his chassis at the sight of Ironhide's large frame hiding his prey from his sight. He sensed movement all around him and hissed as the figures of Mirage, Bumblebee, and Beachcomber dropped down from the outcropping's ledge.

Jazz tensed, ready to spring at the other Forsaken -hunger, fury, ice- and shrieked ferociously as two pairs of hands suddenly rammed into his shoulders from behind him and pushed him face-first into the ground. Bucking with a constant dangerous hiss, he heard the muffled sound of many voices talking for the first time as the other Forsaken closed in, only Bumblebee splitting apart and heading quickly to Ironhide and…

Jazz growled as he remembered the prey still hidden from his view and the hunger returning as he felt residual crackles of electricity popping in his mouth, throat, tank, all over his systems. Mirage suddenly appeared in his line of sight, walking toward him fearlessly. Jazz's optics narrowed as the Forsaken noble lifted a hand and began digging out the armor and plating on his shoulder, tearing circuitry and allowing his plasma to bubble out of the broken jagged remnants of his shoulder plates.

Good enough, the animal deemed it and Jazz moved fast when the hands disappeared from his shoulders, grabbing the Forsaken noble's arm and smashing him chassis first into the wall he had crashed into.

Holding Mirage in place he plunged his fangs deeply into the noble's plating, drinking heavily from the plasma. The animal gorged itself, showing no remorse as it tore Mirage's shoulder even further apart with brutal bites. It felt proud of the moans erupting from the noble's mouth, virus meeting virus and mingling into hot pleasure for the other vampire.

The restraining hands returned and pulled Jazz away much more easily than before. Jazz hazily watched Mirage being pulled -dragged- away from the wall and then Beachcomber was there, offering a plasma stained wrist for him to take. He latched onto it, pushing the other mech into the rock. The hazy need for sustenance was beginning to fade and he could hear the voices and movements of his comrades more clearly with each passing astro-second.

His processor began to pound painfully and his back stung in a mix between pain and pleasure. Connecting his wayward chaotic thoughts was difficult but doable and he realized that the mech he was pinning to the wall had slight tremors wracking through his entire frame. He glanced up at the dizzy face of the mech and quickly pulled his fangs from the wrist he had been drinking from. Backing up with shaky legs from the fresh plasma coursing through his frame.

Shuddering as his back wounds tingled pleasantly, he watched in a dull detachment as Beachcomber slumped down against the rock wall where Sideswipe was quick to support him and get him back on his pedes. Small little whimpers from the right made him turn his head slowly and he saw Mirage leaning against Sunstreaker on the ground, nearly straddling the larger mech and feeding easily from the mech's neck cables; Sunstreaker himself growling slightly as he pushed Mirage's head deeper into his neck in a gesture of the pleasure he felt and possible concern as cobalt optics lingered on the large gaping wound of Mirage's shoulder. Still, Jazz had a delirious moment to appreciate the act; even in this situation the only place the noble would drink from was a mech's neck.

"It's okay, Prowl! It's okay! You need to calm down! Please, Prowl!" Bumblebee shouted desperately from a few yards behind Jazz.

Jazz felt his memory files return with a vengeance at the sound of Prowl's name and he whirled around with mounting despair.

Prowl was struggling as much as a Blessed could against a Forsaken as Ironhide kept the distressed Praxian against the rock so he would not attempt to run. Bumblebee was petting Prowl's functioning arm soothingly, trying to calm him in vain.

Prowl's optics were so bright they illuminated the shadow's of Ironhide's face and his poor doorwings were sprinkled with pink from the hard shivers knocking them against the rock behind him. Jazz felt sick; Prowl was in pain and fear with the coding screaming at him to run and never stop running. It was not what he wanted for the Praxian. His fangs had retracted after drinking from Beachcomber but he could still feel them where they retracted, only sated for the time being. He could remember the terror that Prowl had felt when he saw them for the first time.

"Bumblebee Ah'm sorry. It's gotta be done." Ironhide murmured deeply, regretfully.

For the briefest of moments Prowl looked past Ironhide and straight at him. There was no warmth or even friendship offered in that gaze, only fear. Then his whole frame crumpled into Ironhide's arms as Ironhide dug into Prowl's neck and pinched a single wire to force Prowl offline.

Jazz's spark pulsed painfully and he watched Ironhide swing Prowl into one of his arms securely before grabbing the side of the outcropping and using a strong pull of his powerful arms to leap up onto the ledge. Bumblebee glanced back at him sadly, not blaming but not exactly forgiving either before scaling the rock quickly.

"Come on, Jazz." Beachcomber said from beside him and he let himself be lead out of the pit, Sunstreaker and Mirage stained with plasma from their mouths to their shoulders and Sideswipe sticking close to him, and their was silence. No one looked at him. It was not his fault but they all knew what was in store for Prowl when he was returned to the ARK.

No one would hate him and no one would confront him. Optimus Prime would be the one to do that. Things like this had happened before but it never made it easier to be the one on the receiving end of Optimus' ire when an accident involved a Blessed, especially when the incident would warrant a Processor Wipe; because they didn't always work how one wants them to and it might do more harm than good.

Jazz saw the ARK appearing over the horizon and Jazz wondered whether he should send a prayer to Primus to help the Praxian. Prowl was still in the Creator's favor, still one of his Blessed and he couldn't abandon him because of Jazz's mistake. He disregarded the idea as he stepped into the ARK. He was Forsaken and Primus had never answered his prayers before.

Jazz stopped dead as he saw a whole crowd of his fellow Forsaken Autobots worriedly watching Prowl as Ironhide knelt down to allow Ratchet to scan him.

He caught a flash of red, blue, and white from behind the others, dark blue optics watching him solemnly before Optimus turned and began walking toward the Officer Wing and Jazz knew he had to follow. Passing by the crowd, he glanced at Prowl's currently peaceful, offline face-plates and without meaning to prayed, 'Please… please Primus he is still yours… don't let this ruin him. Please.'

TBC?

Please review?