Title: No Going Home
Author: kirin-saga
Fandom: Transformers IDW
Summary: How could they have done such a thing?
Pairings: Implied Hot Rod/Springer, implied Sandstorm/Fireflight, possible Roadbuster/Springer
Warning: Character Death
A/N: For mmouse15 who made the original request.

The weight of leadership had never hung on his frame so heavily, but now he felt every bit of the responsibility as he took the long walk to the meeting room. He had never wanted to be in this position, forced to make decisions that affected the lives of so many. But no matter how much he wished he could, he could not in good conscience pass the responsibility onto others. It wouldn't be fair, or right, to force others to pass judgment, especially in these circumstances.

As Optimus arrived at the meeting, he stood and surveyed mechs and femme in attendance. Prowl, his second in command, a calm presence who would ensure that what needed to be done was done. Ratchet, his medic, who didn't have to be here but refused to be left out of something of this magnitude. Kup, an old warhorse, always doing what needed to be done no matter how much he hated it. Elita, here to provide a calming presence for both Optimus and the younger mechs in attendance.

It was these younger mechs that Optimus wished didn't have to be here. Hot Rod, staring blankly at the tabletop and doing his best to ignore everyone around him. Fireflight, staring around in despair and looking to be on the verge of a breakdown. And Silverbolt, doing his best to comfort his gestalt mate and looking every bit as helpless as Optimus himself felt.

Finally, Optimus went and stood at the head of the table, waiting patiently until he was noticed. It didn't take long. Optimus stared at the faces before him, smiling weakly at Elita as she placed her hand on his in an attempt at reassurance. "My friends," Optimus began quietly, trying to put strength he didn't feel into his voice. "I'm sure you know why you're here..." He half expected someone, Hot Rod at least, to interrupt here, but everyone remained silent. He steeled himself, and continued. "We need to discuss what needs to be done..." He paused again, staring sadly at Hot Rod and Fireflight, the two these events affected most. They refused to look at him. "... about the Wreckers' betrayal."

---

Springer had never hated himself more than he did in this moment. Looking around at the devastation and knowing that he had caused it. That he had caused all the death and destruction of the mechs and femmes around him. Mechs and femmes that he should be giving his life to protect. But instead he had given them... this.

He was too numb to flinch at the unexpected touch on his shoulder and only stared blankly up at his friend. He received a blank stare in return and a comforting arm he didn't deserve wrapped around his shoulders. They stood there, amongst the dead and dying Autobots for a few moments longer, before Springer allowed Roadbuster to lead him silently from the battlefield.

---

They couldn't believe it had come to this. It should never have come to this. They should have seen this coming long before things had gotten this far, this... hopeless. But they had been as caught off guard as every other Autobot in the army. They shouldn't have been caught off guard like that.

But we were, Hot Rod thought as he and Fireflight huddled together against the far wall, watching in despair as the Dynobots prepared to leave. For once, the strike force was subdued, full of quiet anger and disappointment at the thought of their prey. Even they had never expected this hunt to ever have to take place.

Fireflight whimpered against him, chanting a name over and over under his breath, and Hot Rod wrapped an arm around him, knowing that he and Fireflight both had utterly failed the ones they loved.

---

Sandstorm had never expected to be here, standing on the wrong side of the battlefield and watching as Megatron taunted Optimus. He shouldn't be here, but he couldn't change the fact that he was. He wouldn't be for much longer, though, and he took what comfort he could from that.

These past few vorns had been hard on all of them. He had lost count of how many times he and the others had broken down, desperately reminding themselves that they were doing what needed to be done. No matter how much they hated it, no matter how many times they had wanted to just turn around and run home to a comforting embrace they knew they no longer deserved.

Some days it didn't seem worth it and as much as Sanstorm tried to ignore that fact, all he had to do was look at Scoop's blank stare, at Topspin frantically trying to scrub his hands clean of nonexistent energon, at Twin Twist over in the corner drinking his ever present high grade... He wanted so much to blame someone for this, wanted so much to blame Springer for their suffering. But then he'd turn and see his leader trembling in Roadbuster's soothing embrace, clutching desperately at the larger mech's frame, and he couldn't bring himself to blame any of them.

---

Standing on that final battlefield was perhaps the most surprising thing Optimus had ever experienced. Not just because he had never truly believed there would ever be a final battle, but because of all he had witnessed during what some called the war's bloodiest battle.

He hadn't expected to walk away from that battle, let alone as uninjured as he was. Especially since he had, for the first time since he had accepted the position of Prime, frozen during battle, too shocked by what he was seeing to react to the chaos that exploded around him.

Megatron had been taunting him from across the field, his army far outnumbering the Autobots that had scrambled together to defend this alien world. Optimus could do nothing but glare at the warlord, raising a hand to keep impatient mechs from charging prematurely across the field as they caught sight of the Decepticon standing close behind Megatron. Optimus stared angrily at Springer, fuming at how calmly he and the other Wreckers stood there, not showing the least bit of remorse for their actions. The Autobots might have won the war if it hadn't been for the strike team's betrayal. As it was, they could only hope to go down fighting.

Megatron's speech seemed to be winding down and Optimus briefly looked away to calm the mech standing next to him, reaching out to grab Hot Rod's arm as the younger Autobot tried not to break down at the sight of his lover standing at Megatron's side. And because most of his attention was on the mech, Optimus immediately noticed it when Hot Rod gasped and froze, staring in disbelief across the field as Optimus heard Megatron's voice stutter into static.

Everyone was silent and still as they stared at Megatron's gutted body, at Springer as he stood over the dead warlord, sword held tightly in a trembling grip. Then one of the other Wreckers turned and cleaved a Decepticon in half and the world exploded around them.

---

Optimus stared quietly at the crowd before him, once again wishing he didn't have to be the one to do this. But, just as before, he couldn't bring himself to force another to get up here and say what needed to be said about... about everything.

It was a larger audience this time. All those that had been present at the first meeting were here, along with the rest of the Aerialbots. Grimlock, Ultra Magnus, Jazz, and Ironhide were also attending. They had all recently been released from medical and all wore the same expressions of shocked disbelief they had worn since Megatron's death.

Grimlock was silent, gaze drifting between the Aerialbots cuddling around a seemingly catatonic Fireflight - Ratchet hadn't wanted him here, despite his lack of serious wounds - and where Hot Rod was curled up in his chair, trying to make himself as small as possible. For once, the Dynobot didn't make any insulting remarks.

Ultra Magnus was reading a datapad, his intense stare and shaking grip showing that he wasn't exactly seeing what was written, thoughts instead on the final battle he had barely walked away from.

Jazz was staring blankly at Ironhide, who was frantically cleaning one of his guns over and over.

They should be happy that the war was finally over, that Megatron was finally dead and that traitors weren't traitors after all. They should be out there right now, celebrating like everyone else, and welcoming the Wreckers home.

Except the Wreckers weren't coming home.

Optimus would never forget the sound Hot Rod made when Springer fell, shot from behind as he fought another. The sparkbreaking wail of a broken bond was heard over everything else and echoed through the field long after the battle was over.

Optimus was thankful Kup had been there, standing guard over an oblivious Hot Rod who had scrambled to Springer's side, ignoring the danger he was in. Optimus didn't know if he had reached him in time to say goodbye.

Fireflight's reaction to Sandstorm's death was little better. They hadn't been bonded, the relationship still new, but when he had seen the Wrecker shot out of the sky, exploding in a ball of fire before even hitting the ground... Silverbolt had told them that Fireflight had just cut his engines, almost falling to his death before Slingshot had managed to catch him.

Fireflight wasn't allowed to be alone anymore.

The Wreckers fell, one after another, the main focus of an entire army desperate for revenge for the death of their leader... And in one case, an angry Autobot who had been too far back to have seen Megatron's fall. Optimus and his officers - even Grimlock - had tried frantically to save even one Wrecker. And had almost succeeded. Almost. Primus, he hated that word.

Roadbuster's injuries had been too severe for him to survive long enough to even see the end of the battle. Optimus was just grateful he had died in safe arms, and that he had died before learning of Springer's death.

Optimus was speaking now, not fully aware of what he himself was saying. Speaking of the dead, telling everyone how proud he was of their sacrifice and dedication. Telling everyone of the undercover mission he had assigned, and how sorry he was to have kept such a secret. He didn't tell them that neither he nor Prowl had known what the Wreckers were doing, and that they had truly believed them to be traitors. He didn't think they could handle that. Didn't think he could handle that.

Everyone's attention was on him, even Fireflight's and Hot Rod's, listening to his every word, and he hoped they would gain some comfort from what he said. But he could tell that Hot Rod and Fireflight were struggling to remain calm and quiet and decided he shouldn't talk much longer. But he had one more thing to say...

The Wreckers, though they wore the Decepticon emblem at the end, had died Autobots.

---

"At the rate things are going, the Autobots are going to lose the war within the next two vorns."

Springer's quiet statement was met with resigned looks and a slight dimming of the lights. It was nothing they hadn't known before; as Wreckers, they made it a point to always know things they shouldn't. It kept them alive.

Though this was one occasion when they wished they could remain blissfully ignorant.

Springer stared blankly at the tabletop, carefully choosing his words. He didn't really need to go over it all again; the decision had already been made. It had been made even before their last disastrous mission, even if none of them had wanted to admit it. But he wanted to give them one last chance...

"None of you have to go with me," he said, finally tearing his gaze away from the lifeless metal. "I could easily-"

"You're not going alone, Springer," Roadbuster quietly interrupted. "I won't allow it." From the way the others looked at him, and from the way Xantium's lights brightened, Springer knew the others agreed as well. Every nod and flash of light broke his spark just a little more. He didn't want to do this to them...

"You're sure?" He tried one last time.

"We are." Sandstorm this time, and Springer could barely look at him without picturing all that the other triplechanger was giving up for him, for the Autobots. What they were all giving up, even if they survived...

But they had made their decision, every last one of them. And it was necessary. You can't kill a predator by cutting off its feet, after all.

The Wreckers knew that the only way to defeat Megatron was by standing at his side.