Spike held Carly's hand as they settled Daniel into the bed at the medical center, transferring him over to all their machinery. His son looked very small there in that too-large bed, surrounded by far too much machinery. It gave him flashbacks to Autobot Spike, making him shudder. Carly laid a hand on his arm, her other arm coming around his ( Read more... )

Spike blinks blearily at all the various maps, flight plans, shipping manifests, and other assorted bits of so-far-useless data spread all over the table in the Briefing Room. Not a damn lead yet, not a reliable one, that is, on where that bastard Drath shipped his son off to. He drops to a seat dully, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He's going to ( Read more... )

Two weeks.

Spike throws down the papers he is supposed to be looking over, not having comprehended a single sentence on them for the last six hours. He knows that Perceptor and Wheeljack - and what a damned shock that was - and all the others are doing their best, but it's been two weeks without any leads and no further contact. It is wearing on ( Read more... )

Spike is seated at his desk, going over the last minute changes to the latest assinine proposal from the UN to the EDC - and how he got saddled with doing this, he has no idea, but there you are. If he had his druthers, he'd drop the whole damned thing in his document shredder and pretend the damned thing had never arrived ( Read more... )