Disclaimer: All recognizable characters of the Transformers franchise as well as the franchise itself are licensed and owned by Hasbro. I do this for entertainment purposes only and do not profit AT ALL- monetarily or otherwise- from the writting of these stories.

A/N: Okay, so I got bit by the absolute worst bunny and it refuses to let go- like, at all. Damn thing has wound itself so tightly around my ankle that I can't even but my shoes on. If you read this and my other TF story 'Serendipity' you'll see exactly what I mean. I apologize in advance.

Title may change if I can think of a better one… ::eye roll::

Okay, so this story is set right on the heels of the first movie and we will, unless absolutely necessary, be staying with the Decepticons because they don't get enough character exploration or love. Speaking of someone who doesn't get enough love, I would like to credit how Barricade turned out to the author 'Antepathy' whose stories and LJ I read religiously. If you, dear reader, decide that perhaps you enjoy this different take on our favorite Decepticon scout, then I hope you go check Antepathy's stuff out- particularly 'Sky and Ground' (M) or 'Black Friday' (K).

Catalyst Chapter One

Samuel James Witwiky shoved the All Spark he held upward, aiming desperately for the gap in Megatron's armor that shone with blue light. He heard Optimus shout something, some negation, but Sam could only stare upward at his target even as Megatron, red optics boring down, reached toward him with wickedly sharp fingers. The Cube began to glow, the glyphs shining with definition, and a whisper of warning thrilled through Sam but, before he could fully examine the twisting, squirming sensation in his ribcage, a clawed hand closed around his body just as large blunt fingers grabbed the metal between his hands. Then, as if some cosmic circuit had been completed, the world vanished as the All Spark lit up like a star so bright he could see it even behind his closed eyelids as all that energy, all that awesome power, shed its physical form in an explosive, concussive wave…

And there was Sam- right at Ground Zero.

His last conscious thoughts consisted primarily of fire, agony and mind-numbing terror.

Nothing moved in Mission City, Nevada for the two hours immediately following the destruction of the All Spark. The resulting wave of released energy had knocked out everything electrical, leaving machinery of every kind dormant and silent while the entire city's human population lay unconscious wherever they had fallen when the wave hit. There were no exceptions to this, not even the members of a highly advanced species, and both Decepticons and Autobots alike offlined as the energy washed over them. For those two hours, Mission City was a ghost town, almost devoid of life, but then, finally, something flickered into awareness.

Initiating re-boot sequence…

Sensory Status: Optics offline… Audio offline… Neural net online… Stabilizing servos: Locked

CPU inventory:

Processor: online

Central cortex: online

Primary programming: online

Status: functionality down to 43%

Mobility: minimal…

Current Mission: Retrieval of All-Spark

Mission Status: Successfu- The circuits flared as a wave of cool blue electricity swept through them, rewriting the data, making the previous entry vanish as if it had never existed. Failure- All-Spark destroyed during retrieval

Loading core doc files…

Primary objective…searching… searching… file found

Primary objective: Fidelity to the Fallen And again, blue electricity intervened, seeping through the programming, sorting through the multiple lines of coding, searching for errors and repairing in its wake.

Error- file damaged

Automatic File Repair active. Data retrieval initiated…Processing… Error- file corrupted beyond retrieval. Quarantined… Internal diagnostics systems running…

Warning: Unknown entity detected…

Purging protocol activated:

Threat quarantined… processing…

Threat neutralized.

File successfully purged.

Running Viral scan… Scan complete.

System status: cortex breach detected. Firewalls 50 through 200 compromised…

Preservation sequence activated.

Secondary Objective: Protect Cybertron and all Cybertronians from external and internal sources of harm

Sensory status updated:

Optics: online

Audio: online

Proximity sensors: online

Warning: Enemy detected… Targeting systems online, locked on.

Target: Autobot Identity confirmed as Optimus Prime.

Recommended action: Immediate Termination

A rush of electricity spilled across and through the coding, demanding attention and canceling out everything else until it was addressed. It trickled further into the miles of delicate circuitry, hunting out a specific target, digging up the previously unused file, hauling it out into the open and inserting it into the start up menu.

New protocols and subroutines initiated…

Incorporating new software into core programming…

Instillation successful. Cool blue energy spilled over thousands of miles of sensor relays, tickling, teasing, prompting the new software into action.

Sparkling detected…

Designation: Sam Witwicky.

Status: Offline, heavily damaged.

Nesting program activated.

New Primary Objective: Escape

New Prime directive: Protection of Sparkling

Reboot complete.

Megatron's visual display flickered online as the mech's stabilizing gyros unlocked automatically, allowing him to stand upright, one hand carefully cradling a limp figure to the Decepticon leader's chest. Dente jutting out more prominently as his labial plates turned downward, he looked down at what he held, unimpressed and slightly dismayed by the pathetically tiny size.

Red optics flicked over to scan the Autobot leader prone at the Decepticon's feet before moving over to the cube of metal clutched in Optimus' hand. The urge to reach out and take it, to finally have what he had been searching for all those vorns made his unoccupied hand twitch impatiently until Megatron simply stepped over both the Autobot leader and the cube and began walking out of the strangely silent city, where only the organics moved, the internal fans in their chassis ventilating even in their off-lined state.

Cupping his hand more securely around the sparkling, Megatron paused, holding still as he scanned his surroundings, realization triggering as his processors warmed up to optimal working temperatures.

Where in the Pit was he and why was he fighting to the death with Orion?

And, for the love of Primus, why had Optimus been using a sparkling as a weapon during their battle?

Querying his memory files only caused more alarm since there seemed to be some sort of corruption to the emotional overlay accompanying the information and images. Megatron flipped through his files of Cybertron, starting with the earliest and then moving sequentially forward to the present, a chill settling deeply in his spark at the escalating violence he had encouraged and ultimate destruction of their home world. The accompanying emotions were a constant mix of deep-seated satisfaction, rage, and joy, especially once Cybertron was razed, and the Decepticon leader felt his knee stabilizers slip, making him stumble as horror engulfed his spark.

He cradled the sparkling to his chest and mourned, grief stricken, as the ramifications of his actions bounced around the inside of his cranial plating, cutting into his processors with an inescapable sharp edged clarity.

Megatron, High Lord Protector of Cybertron, had led the side that had destroyed their world and left their race homeless refugees. They had no sanctuary left and with the destruction of the All Spark, it was only a matter of time until they died out, especially if they themselves were killing each other. Where Prime had managed to find a sparkling amidst the chaos- chaos Megatron himself was responsible for- and what had led to the decision to sacrifice its existence in the pursuit of deactivating the Decepticon leader Megatron didn't know but it must have been a the only option left. Prime had to have been desperate to be so… ruthless.

What had happened to the gentle, scientific mind Megatron had constantly fought with?

Megatron stood, suddenly desperate to flee this silent city that now reminded him eerily of the Cybertron he was responsible for creating. Forcing his limbs into movement and mindful of the small organic forms prone on the concrete, he sought out the other Decepticons in the city, putting a hand to each one and calling them into online status from their recharging state. Together with Brawl and Blackout's help, the three found Starscream and pulled him from the building he had crashed into since the jet had been in the air when the weapon went off.

It was abundantly clear from the damage they had all sustained that, had the battle continued, their side would have lost and Megatron felt a surge of anger and disappointment in his subordinates try and overtake his logic centers. The others seemed to sense this and backed away, optics averted as they waited for some display of temper, and this, more than anything, helped him push the urge to strike out away. They were all in a state of disrepair and needed some uninterrupted recharge cycles.

They were soldiers that had been pushed to the breaking point, something only incompetent leaders did.

When he announced that they were leaving, no one fought him, the group following obediently behind him as he led the way into a barren landscape with gently rolling hills. Megatron had Starscream pick a location suitable to serve as a base and, after placing the sparkling in a subspace pocket near Megatron's spark chamber, ordered the others to transform as he himself did so. Sending out a signal to any Decepticons in the area as Brawl was rigged between the three flyers, Megatron led the way to their new home, leaving the city, the Autobots, and the questions behind.

He had troops who needed to be led and a sparkling- possibly the last one- that needed to be protected and his crimes of the past did nothing to change the present.

By the time the Autobots roused to discover the perplexing condition of Mission City, the Decepticons were well and truly gone.

Listening to his engine tick as it cooled down from the long drive, Barricade decided that, though he didn't really mind this planet, he absolutely hated the desert. It was hot, blisteringly so, and the dust and sand from the flat scrub land kept getting under his armor plating, wearing at his gears and making his self-repair system fritz. Driving out here was a pain in the aft too because his tires couldn't get much traction on the small grains, and Barricade kept slipping and sliding all over the place unless he went at a slow speed.

Rolling forward into movement toward the mountain range that was his destination, the Decepticon grumbled irritably that all his trouble getting here better be worth it when he arrived.

"That is not a sparkling." The faux police car said, pointing in disgust at the tiny offline creature being presented to him by Starscream.

"It is Lord Megatron's sparkling." The Air Commander said stiffly, patience wearing away. That wasn't too surprisingly given that they had been having the argument for the past five megakliks and the only reason that it had been able to last that long without coming to blows was because Barricade had been allowed a good cleanse after his arrival. Yes, a trip to the wash-racks had made him much more willing to indulge Starscream's little delusion far longer than Barricade would have been otherwise.

"That's a squishy. A fleshling." Barricade said disdainfully, waving a hand dismissively. If Megatron had stolen Prime's little pet human, then best of luck to the egomaniac- he just better not ask the police car to babysit. Actually… All four optics focused on the little fleshbag, really looking at him for the first time though Barricade had recognized Ladiesman217 the moment Starscream tried to shove him under the scout's nasal intake. "Did you piss Megatron off again?"

Starscream's armor rattled threateningly as the mech scowled, affronted. "No! He honors me with the watching of Sam!"

'The watching of Sam'? "Uh huh." Barricade had to struggle to hold in the snort that threatened to escape. He managed but only because he distracted himself by accessing the maps of the base Blackout had transmitted to the scout upon arrival. Without a word, Barricade turned around and headed toward what had been zoned as the residential area of the abandoned human military base, deliberately taking a passage too narrow to comfortably accommodate Starscream's larger frame.

"Why do you ask?" The jet, apparently, wasn't about to let his question slide nor let him slip away and he followed the police car, having to stoop when they reached an area with a low ceiling that had, so far, missed Megatron's and Brawl's efforts at remodeling. "Barricade, why do you ask?"

Barricade held up a hand to indicate to the jet that he was about to stop moving so that they could avoid bumping into one another. For some reason, he didn't want the other to touch him- at all- and he worked to keep distance between them as he turned to face Starscream, pointing at the Air Commander's cupped hands. "Because that squishy is about to deactivate."

"What?" Starscream clutched the human protectively to his chassis and reared back as if Barricade had physically attacked it. The resulting clang of the jet's helm connecting with the low ceiling was loud enough to make the police car wince. "He is not! We have been caring for him very well!"

"And I'm sure you'll continue to provide excellent care right up until he deactivates." Barricade reviewed the image file of the human Starscream continued to insist was a sparkling. "Very messily, if what I've read is true. It's customary to bury them on this planet- have you picked a plot yet?"

Barricade began walking again, his short size for once not an impediment in a Decepticon base, and ignored the jet's sputtering behind him as the police car carefully considered the available apartments. Choosing one, he clicked a signal to the door to shut it before realizing that there was no door. What kind of quarters didn't have a slagging door? Or berths! He was going to have to sleep on the floor, slag it! Stupid backwater mud-ball planet-

"Barricade!"

Oh for the love of…! Primus, that jet would never leave him alone now- he should have just stroked 'Screamer's ego, figuratively patted the Seeker's head and moved on.

"Barricade!" And then Starscream was in his doorway, glaring at him as bits of dirt and rock drifted off his armor. "Explain to me your reasoning about the sparkling's imminent demise!"

Seriously? Did the jet honestly need someone to explain that squishies in good health didn't work so hard to exchange gasses efficiently? That their fuel pumps were not supposed to be working that hard to circulate core fluid? That their dermal plating was supposed to be one, relatively consistent pigment and not blotchy red with dark patches? And it stank, more so than humans did normally, but Barricade wasn't sure if the stench was due to bodily secretions or from the dirty tattered clothing clinging to its tiny frame.

"I thought you were a scientist." Barricade grumped, his door fairings fanning gently behind him to allow any trapped solvent to evaporate fully. "It's a squishy not a quantum warp gate! I know you've had pets before and this is the same thing! Feed it, clean up after it, stomp on it when you finally grow bored of its presence, dispose of the body when it dies. Which, as I said before, will be soon."

"Explain to me your logic!" Starscream- honest to Primus- stomped his foot, the armor plates over his weapons shifting, flaring, frequencies ratcheting up to near painful pitches.

Barricade shuttered his optics for a klik, analyzing the jet's behavior. Starscream was rarely anything but arrogant and snobbish in the presence of a grounder- something to do with the worldview that flying was superior to everything else and, since he could fly, thus Starscream was superior to any ground frame. Seeing him falling apart was both funny and a tad disturbing but what really grabbed Barricade's attention was the realization that, for a comment from a lowly grounder to provoke such a reaction, the jet had to have had similar fears about the little fleshbag's continued functioning.

The urge to be petty and tell the pain in the aft jet to get lost almost won out before the scout realized that it would just lead to a fight that Starscream- being bigger, stronger and meaner- would win. Barricade would be reduced to a pile of scrap for indulging in his vengeance for vorns of the Air Commander's verbal abuse, a fate that would not spare him from having to explain his earlier comments anyway. If, however, the scout consented willingly to explain why the little squishy was about to expire on the jet's watch then Starscream would be in his debt.

Having the Air Commander owe you one could prove to be very useful in the future.

Cooling fans cycling noisily, Barricade waved the jet over, looked down at Ladiesman217 where the human lay nearly swallowed by Starscream's massive hand and decided to start simple. "What have you been feeding him?"

Starscream fidgeted then, when the police car snapped at him to stop doing so, took a seat on the floor. Even sitting, Barricade still had to look up a few inches to be able to look the other in the optic. "Energon siphoned from my tank. Blackout and Lord Megatron have been donating also."

Well, that would explain part of the problem- if they had been dealing with an actual sparkling, the highly refined energon from a flier's system would have been perfectly acceptable in small, measured doses. Unfortunately, Ladiesman217 was human, not an actual Cybertronian sparkling, and energon for him was toxic at any dose.

Actually, it was surprising that that the human's insides hadn't melted to slag.

Barricade almost felt sorry for the poisoned little squishy. Almost. He put a hand to his cheek flares and scratched the chrome surface idly as he felt his shoulder plating begin to twitch. Looking at an ugly telltale mark on the little organic's flesh, the scout was afraid of the answer to his next question. "And what did you use to treat his injuries?"

"Most of its injuries are internal and beyond his auto-repair system's capability." Starscream said, looking down at the sparkling. The jet brushed one long talon along the human's back and, even unconscious, Ladiesman217 immediately flinched away from the gentle touch, ventilation coming in harsher pants. "We have attempted to intervene and replace the damaged parts…"

"But…" Barricade prompted when the jet didn't continue. Starscream looked disturbed and the police car covered his facial plating with his hand, hiding his own grimace and taking comfort from the fact that, as far as he could tell, the human was still in one piece.

"His processor does not respond to override codes so we cannot place him in stasis. We have tried waiting until he falls into a deep recharge cycle before beginning but he wakes once we start looking for the dermal latches. He was leaking fluid when we arrived and his internal pressure was dropping but when we began to weld the wound shut he, he started screaming." Starscream stared at Barricade with haunted optics, vocalizer dropping to barely audible levels. "He cursed and fought as if we were torturing him and I think Blackout may have broken some rib struts holding him down while we finished. He has not on-lined since."

And he probably wouldn't at all if they continued to be in charge of his care. "How long ago did you attempt to repair him?"

"Two solars ago." The jet said quietly, mournfully, stroking the little form again. This time Ladiesman217 didn't move away but Barricade could hear the squishy's systems respond negatively to the tactile stimulation. "I had thought his plating would strengthen once the excess liquid was purged from his system. That's normally what pushes the heating system into overdrive in a sparkling since fluid buildup interferes with metal absorption…"

Translation? Commander Brilliant here had let Sam's fever run rampant since it appeared, depleting his body of resources until all that was left was a dehydrated husk.

This situation right here? This was the definition of irony and suddenly Barricade wanted to put his helm in his hands and keen it was so pathetic. He wished he had never run across the jet or the dying human and had instead kept his mandibles shut as he sought out a place to recharge.

"Was this before or after you fed him?" The scout didn't want to know, honestly, and this was reflected in the way the words were voiced, as if dragged kicking and screaming from his vocalizer. He had to know, however, if he was to plan a successful intervention and save both the human and Starscream's aft.

"Before." The Air Commander's voice sounded incredibly small.

"Did he keep any of it down?"

The jet's optics narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know the sparkling purged its tanks?"

Because that's how organic bodies are designed to respond when a poison is forced down their intakes, Barricade thought irritably. The Autobots were going to go absolutely ape shit, to borrow a human phrase, when they found out how their little pet had been treated. On the way out here, Barricade had barely managed to escape that moron Bumblebee who had been pretty slagging persistent in catching the Decepticon, so much so that it was only by the skin of his dente and Primus' will that the Decepticon had managed to escape the fight with no more than a few dents and a kick to his skid plate. Bumblebee had displayed a rage that Barricade had never seen in the other scout, before or after a battle, but the little fragger had been so worked up that he could barely aim properly, something Barricade had been quick to take advantage of in making his getaway. He had led the Autobot scout on a merry chase across three states and back again, pouring all his energy into getting the Pit away from the yellow menace.

"Primus!" The police car hissed, realization dawning. What he had seen would be nothing to the level of wrath the Auto-idiots unleashed once they learned that their precious 'Sam' had died under Decepticon care. For whatever reason, the human had become a rallying point for the weakened Autobots, bolstering their decision to protect this planet, and reinforcing their moral outrage over everything the Decepticons were. Prime and his followers had been on the losing side for so long that the fight had begun to leave their sparks until now, until this miserable dirt ball and its disgusting organic inhabitants had rekindled their collective spirits. If one gross little human could tie them all together again in only a few days what would the knowledge of his death do to the Autobots? How far would they be willing to go for revenge?

Squishy insect or not, it was in the Decepticon's (and more importantly Barricade's) best interest that Ladiesman217 survive long enough to be returned to the other faction.

Step one of this plan, the scout decided, was very simple: Get the human away from the other Decepticons. Barricade would have to be calm and tactful in the execution of this crucial part.

"Starscream," The police car began quietly, diplomatically, cycling his frequencies to a longer wavelength, a lower tone, to help calm the agitated Seeker. "You've done very well and all the care you've given has been perfectly acceptable for a sparkling… but that is not a sparkling-"

"He is a sparkling!" Somewhere in the jet a weapon's capacitor charged threateningly, others joining the first before Barricade could even begin to press the issue. Why in the Pit Starscream thought Ladiesman217 was a sparkling, the police car didn't understand but decided it was an argument for another time. Maybe the jet's logic circuits had fried during the battle? Blackout had mentioned that the Seeker had slammed into a building pretty spectacularly…

Barricade made a calming gesture and made a show of blatantly scanning Ladiesman217, mentally backpedaling, processor chugging away furiously as the faux police car fought to redirect the argument. "You're right. I missed it before because my scanners aren't as good as yours. He is a sparkling but he's a very special one, a brand new mimic prototype."

"A pretender drone?" Starscream said, doubt evident, but he uncurled his fingers from their tight grip around Ladiesman217, exposing more of the human to Barricade.

"Exactly." The smaller mech assured, speaking with a patience he didn't feel in the least. It was tempting to simply reach out and snatch the little fleshbag from the larger mech but Barricade resisted the urge. Seekers had both software and hardware that afforded them the fastest reflexes of all frame designs and it was possible that, if the scout tried to grab the human, Starscream would react automatically and close his hands, either squashing or impaling Ladiesman217. No, if Barricade wanted the human alive, he had to sway the jet into willingly surrendering Sam. "It's a pretender and right now it's pretending to be a human so regular sparkling care isn't going to work. It's reacting like an organic because of its mimicry protocols and needs to be treated like an organic in order for it to survive."

"Organics do not like welding torches." Starscream said quietly, clearly distracted as he followed Barricade's logic.

Even though he knew how they had stopped Sam from 'leaking,' it still sent a cold flutter through Barricade's spark to actually hear it. He wondered vaguely if the Autobots would still hold them responsible if Sam was nuts.

"Right, so we should allow someone more knowledgeable repair him." The scout concluded and waited for the jet to make the connection. Ratchet, one of the best medical officers in all of Cybertronian history, would be the best mech to look after a human and, if the inevitable happened, the kid died under Autobot care, not Decepticon.

Starscream's face twisted into an expression of absolute repugnance but, just as Barricade was about to pat himself on the dorsal plating for a job well done, the jet spoke. "There is a human place of healing in the nearest settlement."

"Huh? Wait, what?" Barricade asked and this time he was the one following on the other's heels as the jet stood and strode purposely through the hallways. "Don't take him there!"

"By your own logic, the humans should be able to provide aid without incident. Are you saying your previous logic was wrong?"

Barricade wanted to slam his head into the wall. If he backtracked his position, he'd never hear the end of it but he doubted that a standard human hospital in the middle of the desert was going to have the resources to fix days of Decepticon 'help.' "The humans won't have the equipment! Contact Ratchet and arrange a drop off instead!"

"No!" Starscream shouted, whirling and pointing with a talon at Barricade's nasal ridge threateningly. "The Autobots are responsible for his present condition and I will not allow them to harm him again!"

The Seeker turned and resumed his path to the entrance of the base.

Barricade stared after him, wondering for a long moment if insanity was catching as he watched the jet carefully place the human in his cockpit and transform.

"Pressurize and warm your hatch!" He shouted as Starscream fired up his engines in preparation for flight. There was no form of acknowledgment and Barricade found himself running toward the jet, his touching phobia from earlier being usurped by the need to ensure that Ladiesman217 survived. "Hey!"

This was insanity! Complete and utter madness but he couldn't simply let the jet go, not with the human about to deactivate at any klik. Hurling himself at the jet, Barricade latched on tight enough to avoid being thrown off just as Starscream took off into the sky and pressed himself as flat as he could to get a look into Starscream's cockpit.

Still offline, Ladiesman217 was strapped securely in place in the seat harness giving no sign of the stress that he would have been showing if the Air Commander hadn't followed Barricade's advice.

The relief that flooded the faux police car's systems was nearly overwhelming but it was all wiped away when Starscream executed a barrel roll without warning and, as far as Barricade was concerned, without reason. Fingers digging into the jet's armor hard enough to score the pain, the scout could do nothing but helplessly hold on as the jet screamed into the sky.

Continue: Y/N?