Note: I really don't know much about funerals. I've only really ever been to a wake. So, bear with me. Please?
Note 2: Wow! I was amazed at all of the feedback this story got! Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! You make this story possible!
Chapter One: Aftermath
Optimus Prime led his ragtag team of mechs down the highways. He was in the lead, Ratchet and Ironhide flanking him. The second the Autobots had gotten the call, they were headed out. One thought ran through all of their minds;
How could Sam be dead?
The boy had survived Mission City, for crying out loud! He had lived through the explosions, the wild grabs made by Megatron and his lackeys, and even killed the tyrant! And now he was dead, murdered by some... some human! It wasn't right!
'Maybe Ironhide has the right idea with shooting them...' Optimus mused silently.
Mikaela, Judy Witwicky and her husband Ron met the Autobots outside the house. The females of the group had eyeliner and mascara smeared all over their faces, but didn't seem to give a damn. Even now, the Autobots had to prevent exposure to the public. So they stepped out of their vehicle modes in holoform.
Optimus was in his mid-thirties, with salt and pepper hair and ice blue eyes. He wore jeans, a black T-shirt, and a blue jacket with red flames.
Ratchet was slightly over forty, with white blonde hair and green eyes. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved dark green shirt.
Lastly, Ironhide was the same age as Ratchet. He had pitch black hair and dark blue eyes. He wore jeans, a tight black no-sleeve T-shirt and a dark denim jacket.
Optimus looked at Mikaela. "Mikaela, you must tell us what happened," he said softly. Mikaela sniffled, before she began the gruesome tale of how she found Sam.
The Autobots present were feeling rightly ill by the time Mikaela finished her tale. Judy had started sobbing again, and currently had her face buried in Ron's chest. The man wasn't looking much better, but it was obvious he was holding it together for his wife and Mikaela. Possibly the Autobots, too. One couldn't be sure.
"That's it, Optimus! I say we shoot the humans to oblivion!" Ironhide burst out. Although his outburst was inappropriate, everyone was grateful that he broke the horrid silence.
Optimus rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. "Ironhide, no matter what this human has done, we cannot punish their whole race. There is good in them. Mikaela and Sam are... were... fine examples. However, if we ever find out who did this, I will go against my rule. Ironhide, you may shoot him if we find him."
The black mech's holoform nodded in grim satisfaction. Ratchet, who had stayed quiet this whole time, finally made himself known.
"What is the next step? In Cybertronian culture, when one dies they are sent into space as a final goodbye. How does this work on Earth?"
Judy sniffled, wiping at her eyes as if it would help her even more messed up make-up.
"We hold a funeral. It's a memorial service for the deceased. A funeral can go two ways. One, you place the deceased in a coffin. A coffin is a long and narrow box with a lid, usually made of a type of wood. The coffin is buried in a graveyard, and a headstone placed over the coffin. A headstone is a piece of stone engraved with the deceased's name, date of birth and death, and anything else you want to say. Are you following me so far?" Judy looked at the Autobots.
They nodded wordlessly. Judy waited a minute before continuing.
"Another way a funeral could go is cremation. The deceased is burnt to ashes, and the ashes are placed in a jar, usually. Then you can either scatter the ashes someplace, or keep them. It usually depends on the deceased's wishes."
"And which one are you having?" Optimus inquired.
"We had always decided that if Sam were to pass on... that we would hold a burial. A wake will be arranged, as well." Ron answered.
The Autobots shared a confused look. "A wake?" Ratchet repeated curiously.
"A wake is when the deceased is prepared for burial, but placed in a half-open coffin. Wakes take place inside the funeral home. It's a chance for people to say their last goodbyes to the deceased. Usually flowers or trinkets are placed on the deceased, as a last offering. It's very sentimental." Mikaela explained.
"Are we... welcome at these processions?" Optimus tentatively asked.
"Of course!" Judy replied adamantly. Ron and Mikaela nodded their consent.
"Thank you."
The wake and funeral were held one week later. Sam actually looked rather peaceful, his eyes closed and hands folded on his chest.
The wake held many tears. Judy and Ron payed their respects first.
"Sam, we're so sorry that you're gone. My baby booty boy... oh God! I hope you're happy where you are!" Judy began sobbing uncontrollably. Ron wrapped an arm around her.
"Rest in peace, son." was all the man could get out.
Mikaela went next. "Sam, we went through so much. I can't believe it took us so long to get together. I love you, and I always will. Rest in peace." With tears streaming down her face silently, Mikaela stepped back.
After more family and friends, it was the Autobot's turns. Ironhide went first.
"Kid, you were an admirable soldier. You did what none of us could do; offline that fragger. Wherever you go, I wish you the best." Ironhide stepped back, not meeting anyone's gaze.
Ratchet went next. "Sam, you were a young human. I've never been good at this emotional stuff, so... rest in peace." Ratchet stepped back, and Ironhide moved closer to him.
Optimus went last. The leader of the Autobots stared down at Sam for a minute. "Sam, you were young. Yet you were so brave. I wish it didn't end like this. I will miss you. All of us will miss you. Samuel James Witwicky, honorary Autobot, may you rest in peace."
The funeral held more tears. As Sam's closed coffin was buried, all of Sam's family and friends were crying. The Autobots were the only ones who weren't, and that was because they didn't know how.
Three men watched the proceedings from afar.
One was around 22. He had black hair with white streaks and muddish red eyes. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt. He was leaning against a black and white Mustang.
The second was around 18. He had blond hair and bright blue eyes. He wore jeans and a yellow shirt with the word "Bee-otch" written in black on it. He leant against a yellow Camaro.
The last was about 20. He had dirty blond hair and brown eyes. He wore jeans and a black sweatshirt over a red T-shirt. He was leaning against a tan Toyota Supra.
"Nice proceedings," the first one commented. The second one nodded in agreement.
"Yeah," the third said quietly. As the three men watched the others disperse, the third looked at his companions. "'Cade? 'Bee? Can we go over there?" he asked.
Barricade and Bumblebee nodded wordlessly. They followed the third man to the gravestone. The inscription was in black marble.
Here lies Samuel James Witwicky
May 17, 1991 – November 3, 2011
This young hero will be missed.
They stood there for a while. Until Bumblebee spoke softly. "Come on, Bolt. It's time to head back."
Bolt nodded. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. The three holoforms fizzled out, although Bolt's lingered a few seconds longer. It finally faded from existence.
The three cars pulled out of the parking lot, leaving behind an empty graveyard.
