Author's Notes: I'm pulling extensively from the movie novelization for information about the All Spark and Matrix in this chapter. Only one major reveal is my own invention – Megatron's overarching motivation and what the Fallen taught him to do. I'm extrapolating that from his rather intriguing statement to Starscream: "Even in death, there is no command but mine."

I tried to hide the spring in my step, but I don't think it worked. Especially since Optimus could probably have felt my jubilant mood all the way on the moon. His blue eyes peered down to me from where he sat on the flight deck, and I waved the paper in my hand in his direction.

"Civilian-level access, even for Wheelie!"

The Decepticon-turned-Autobot had garnered even more suspicion from the higher-ups than the Autobots and had been held under close guard in another part of the ship. Mikaela visited him several times a day. He hadn't gone quietly into solitary confinement until Mikaela personally assured him that the only person who was allowed to torture him was her. Why did she have to encourage the creep?

"I just received the email," Optimus answered, extending his hand to me. "And VIP-level access for me. Thank you, Sam. Each day, I am deeper in your debt."

I settled into the palm of his hand. "Pshaw. You died for me. I'll spend a lifetime paying off that debt."

"You died for me, too," he reminded me softly.

Somehow, I hadn't seen it in that light before. Huh. "I guess that almost makes us even," I answered.

"Almost."

I smiled at how…solemn he sounded. He took me far too seriously sometimes. Sobering a little, I asked, "So what's the lesson on tonight?"

"What do you want to know?"

I sighed, sifting through the chaos of the last several days, trying to get to the heart of it all. I'd come to grips with the fact that, like it or not, I was the Autobot ambassador, and tonight's victory taught me that I could actually pull off a few of the things Optimus needed from me. I'd come to accept that I wasn't a normal kid and that my problems were as far from normal as Earth was from Cybertron. I'd even come to accept that Optimus and I really were brothers on some level, though I doubted anything I could do as an ambassador would put us on equal footing. I could get a handle on all that, but the Prime thing still bothered me. "What does it mean, exactly, to be a Prime?"

He paused for a moment in surprise. I don't know why he would be, unless he was surprised that I hadn't asked a lot sooner. "Jetfire explained well the reason for their existence. They were servants of the All Spark, guardians and stewards. They…tended it."

"But they were more than that," I prompted. "They could read the histories when no one else could."

"Yes," he said softly. "Culturally and traditionally, they were more. Much more."

I leaned back, preparing myself for a better lecture from him than I'd ever get in any university.

"To understand what the Primes meant to us culturally, you must first understand what the All Spark meant. We regarded it in much the same way your species once regarded the sun. It was the source of life, not just creating it but sustaining it. In almost every Earth religion, that was the power of the divine. There is no good translation for how we felt about it – the All Spark was cherished, benevolent, sacred, beautiful."

"Benevolent? You make it sound almost...sentient."

"Some believed it was. Some believed it was a tool for or manifestation of Someone else. Some even thought it was made by aliens." He lifted an amused optic ridge at that one. "Regardless, how could the Creator of sparks – of souls – not have one?"

"And I destroyed it." Did that make me as bad as the Fallen? I destroyed their sun.

"No, Sam." His kind assurance eased my guilt. "It was my choice to destroy it. You merely chose how. The...miracle is that it was not destroyed at all." He paused, and I felt his…I couldn't find the right word for it. He felt overwhelmed and maybe just a touch confused. Like I'd felt the last several days. "Remember that I said Primes were guardians and stewards over the All Spark? You were acting as a Prime when you risked your life to protect the Cube from Megatron on the roof of that building. Your feet were set on this path a long time ago. I recognized that, but didn't understand what it meant until now."

I blinked, trying to wrap my brain around it. "So…what are you saying, that I've been a Prime since then?"

"No. Primes are born, Sam, not made."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" I burst out. "I'm human!" I'd been slowly getting used to the idea that the Matrix particles made me a Prime in the eyes of the Autobots, but this…this was too much to accept. I'd been born to do all this?! Brand-spanking-new little baby Sammy was a Prime? Geeky ten-year-old me who couldn't catch Mikaela's eye if my life depended on it was a Prime?! That couldn't be right!

And that just led to another mountain of questions. What part of my life was fate? What part was choice? Was Optimus fated to die for me? Was I fated to bring him back? He seemed to think so.

"The Cube was here being used and handled by humans. It makes perfect sense that the All Spark would choose a human Prime as a guardian and servant."

I shook my head, rebelling at what he was saying, but a little voice in the back of my mind whispered, Is it really that much harder to accept than the idea that I'm a Prime at all? Sighing, I said, "Then I've been a spectacular failure."

His kind assurance swelled in my heart again. "No, Sam. You have fulfilled your role well. Remember that I said the All Spark wasn't destroyed?"

I cautiously nodded.

"I spent three days with my brother Primes and learned much. We were created to serve the All Spark, to ensure its survival by replenishing it, and when more of our race was created, to stand as intercessors and guides regarding it. It has the power to give life, but it did not always grant life when asked. Long before the artifacts related to the Fallen were uncovered, Megatron wanted to find a way to control the power of the All Spark, to force it to give life to every protoform created and – more importantly, in his mind – restore life to the empty shell of an extinguished spark. The All Spark only ever granted life once."

He sighed, but I only felt an echo of his sorrow. He must be blocking me out again at least a little bit. "Knowing that the Dynasty of the Primes was ended, Megatron began to want that power and name for himself. Unknown to me at the time, the Fallen taught him how to modify the All Spark to his ends as proof that he could make Megatron a Prime. But in modifying the Cube, Megatron corrupted the All Spark's physical form. That is why it only created Decepticons here on Earth. That is why the Shard was able to reanimate Megatron while the Cube never could. That is why every last physical piece of the All Spark was fated to be destroyed. In Mission City, we both fulfilled our roles as servants of the All Spark."

He paused for a moment and gave me a look that I'd come to dread over the last few days. It was the expression he had right before he dropped another bomb in my lap. "What we once knew as the All Spark survived. Literally, in you."

"ME?!"

"You are a Prime. You were first a guardian and then a steward."

"Are you saying I was possessed?!"

He smiled ever so slightly. "No. You just had a stow-away."

"Had?" I hopefully asked. Past tense. Past tense was good.

"It took a form incorruptible by design – the Matrix of Leadership."

"Incorruptible." I thought about that for a second. "But the Fallen used it."

"He used it as a key, which he had earned the right to do long ago. But he could never use it to ignite sparks. Or reignite them. That he had no right to do."

I let out a huge sigh. Wow. This was almost as much of an information overload as the first night. "So...I was born a Prime. I didn't kill the All Spark. I gave it a piggy-back ride to the Matrix, and now it's...where? What happened to it?"

"It resides in the Matrix which I carry in a compartment on my frame."

I turned that over in my mind for a minute, hope slowly growing in me. "So…being a Prime is, essentially, being a guardian of the All Spark, which means the Matrix now, right?"

"Yes."

"And since you and your two energon swords are carrying it around at all times, that means I'm pretty much off the hook, right?"

"No."

"Damn."

A hint of a smile warmed his face. Affection swelled in my chest, and I recognized it was coming from him. "The Matrix is physically different, Sam. It has different needs. And you are different, something new, as well."

I sighed deeply. Of course.

"The All Spark gave life by radiating power. The Matrix's power is focused and must be wielded."

"Wielded. You make it sound like a weapon."

"It is great power," he solemnly declared, and I felt the weight of his words. "In giving or in taking life, it is wielded. It is double-edged, like a dagger."

"Okay...so what does this have to do with me?"

"I am the Matrix's guardian. You are its steward."

"I don't follow you."

"I protect it; you use it."

"Use it?!" I was embarrassed that my voice cracked. "As in…what? Stabbing protoforms to make new little Autobots?"

He ignored my sarcasm. "To create new life, yes."

I wasn't sure if he meant to broadcast his emotions then or not. There was something more he wanted to tell me, but he was uncertain whether he should or not.

This bond was turning out to be really useful. "Spit it out."

"To create life and…to restore life."

"What, like bring people back from the dead?"

"If it is their fate."

I leaned my head back against his fingers, knowing exactly who he was referring to. Arcee. She was dead because of me, too. Like Optimus, she'd fought to the death to protect me.

It was bad enough that the Autobots practically worshipped me for reigniting Optimus. If I started making a habit of it, who knew what crazy ideas they'd start getting. "Why can't you just do it?" I asked.

He looked down. "An excellent question."

But after a minute, I realized he wasn't going to answer it. He was…I tried reaching through my heart into his, but I don't think it worked. All I could find was shame.

"Perhaps it would be good to dream tonight," he finally said, lowering me to the flight deck.

Talk about changing the subject. I guessed tonight's lesson was over.

He was right, though. I had to break my Lortab addiction sooner or later. Besides, it was cowardly to keep this up. I'd had four days now. It should be long enough. I'd give the pills back to Ratchet in the morning.

"Same time tomorrow?" Because I was sure I'd have a million questions once I'd had time to really think about this.

"Yes." He reclined onto the flight deck. "Pleasant dreams."

Yeah right. But to be polite, I said, "You, too."

"We don't dream like you do," he said softly. "It's much more controlled. We process information and occasionally imagine in a way similar to humans' lucid dreams. Nightmares are very rare among us."

"Lucky you," I muttered. "Good night."

"And to you."