Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am I making any profit from this.
Credits: A big thank you to dglsprincess105 for allowing me to borrow her idea. This story was inspired by her story, All in the Family. And yes, I know these are two very different stories, but I asked her a long time ago if I could borrow Sam as a caretaker to the Autobots-Decepticons-turned-sparklings, and that idea morphed into this one. dglsprincess105 is my inspiration, and the credit goes to her.
Minor edits made, 10/11/2012
Minor edits made July 6, 2013
Sam groaned as he slowly came to consciousness, watching as blue glyphs scrolled across his vision. He knew his eyes were closed, but they were still there, giving him information about different systems in his body. That was the first hint that something was different—not necessarily wrong, just different. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes—or rather, onlined his optics according to schematics—was that his hand was made out of metal. Normally, Sam would have freaked, but this time he knew he didn't have the time. He took a moment to calm down, then looked up, realizing that he was in an alley somewhere, on Cybertron. It had to be Cybertron because the architecture of the metal towers and buildings around him did not belong on Earth.
Somewhat shakily, he stood to his feet—peds, he corrected himself—and stumbled over to the reflective surface of a somewhat unmarred wall. It felt strange, staring at a Cybertronian instead of a human reflection, and he almost didn't believe he was looking at himself until he remembered the glyphs scrolling across his vision—they'd become smaller, fitting into a small box in the corner of his vision, like minimizing a window on a computer screen.
He was tall, nearly the same height as Optimus, with a retractable battle mask and a black visor that hid bright green optics. His frame, colored black with a few green and blue streaks, was designed something like Optimus's, except sleeker and more streamlined, and he had a tail and thrusters on his heels, which, combined with the wings and tail threw him off-balance. Wings. He had wings. That discovery made him slightly giddy. He got to fly! ...Although he would probably suck at it.
An hour later after experimenting, he learned he could retract and extend both tail and wings, and that his alt-mode was a Cybertronian vehicle that partly resembled a cross between a Lamborghini or another kind of sports car and a fighter jet. It was as sleek and streamlined as he'd been in bipedal mode, and even more so. It was slung low to the ground, but that wasn't a problem, as he could hover. When he was comfortable with himself in both alt and bipedal mode, and had skimmed through the knowledge about Cybertron that he mysteriously found in his memory, he cautiously left the alley.
Instantly, he was hit by how familiar it seemed to him. Cybertronians were walking, driving, and flying past, all of them different from one another in frame, color, and style. If it weren't for the fact that they were giant, sentient, alien robots, he could have pretended that he was back on Earth.
Okay, Sam took a deep breath—not that he needed to breathe—and straightened determinedly. No time for a panic attack, gotta find somewhere to live...and I probably need to find a job. After that, find Optimus or Megatron or one of the others and figure out a way to stop this mess from ever happening. He grimaced, taking in the masses of bots. Primus, help me, this is going to be a lot harder than I thought.