Interlude:- A Life Well Lived

August 14th 1965

Her smile has been haunting him since he walked into the diner. He can't let her leave without asking her name. Through brilliant red lipstick, gleaming white smile and giggles she tells him her name is Erin. She talks to him and they arrange to meet the next Friday.

May 8th 1967

The ring was three months wages but she says 'Yes' and laughs that sweet, sweet laugh. He wraps his arms around her and they kiss. It's a moment he will never forget for the rest of his life.

September 27th 1968

The dress is beautiful, and he fills a suit quite well if he says so himself. Erin says "I do" and he feels if he smiles any more his face will break. There are handshakes, kisses, slaps on the back, toasts and the wine warms his blood. She looks over at him, and waves of love seem to radiate from her.

January 25th 1970

The little pink human screams and screams and screams. Erin is exhausted but she smiles, a tired smile of triumph. He holds his son and the crying stops. She rests her head against his shoulder and falls asleep.

June 27th 1973

Erin finally relents and goes to see a doctor. They want to do tests. She coughs and coughs and coughs. She barely eats. They want to run more tests. Little Spike cries at night, and he holds him close, tears running down his face too.

August 3rd 1974

His heart is breaking. The priest says the words, and they lower the wooden box into the ground. He is numb. He will never get to see that beautiful smile again. A little pudgy hand wraps around two of his fingers and he looks down to innocent eyes. "I have to look after you now, Dad. Mommy said so." He picks up his son and hugs him tight and the tears flow like rain.

November 13th 1984

The purple robot pins him up against the wall with bone-rattling force. Spike gets its attention and is rewarded by a blow that knocks him clean off the rig. He fears the worst and instinct takes over. He manages to kick the robot off and dives after his son. The water is cold and seems to clutch at him. They are rescued by a giant red robot. It's all too much to take in.

December 25th 1984

They have Christmas at the Ark, in a workshop with Bumblebee, Hound, Ratchet and Wheeljack, who are all keen to partake in this human custom, and keener still to celebrate with their human friends. The sense of wonder never leaves him, and Spike's face shine with joy. He wishes she was here. Optimus Prime pops in to give his greetings. Erin would have liked Prime he thinks, and a small smile hits his face when he realises how quickly she would have banned Spike from going near Wheeljack's lab. She was the one with the common sense in the family.

July 22nd 2005

Ratchet had messaged him to say he was visiting Earth and was keen to meet up. Soon Sparkplug, like every human on the planet was glued to 24 hours news as an event dubbed The Battle of Autobot City raged. Sparkplug knew in his heart that his friends aboard the shuttle the Decepticons had used to infiltrate Earth were dead. Poor Ratchet. In the hours to come he would learn that Wheeljack too now lay amongst the slain.

July 31st 2005

They stood in brilliant sunshine as Rodimus Prime read out the names of the fallen. Spike, Carly and Daniel were all around him as each name was spoken and the assembled Autobots and human guests spoke words of remembrance. Brawn. Huffer. Prowl. Ratchet. Wheeljack. Windcharger. Smokescreen. Red Alert. Trailbreaker. Ironhide. Gears. Optimus Prime. It was almost too much grief to bear.

Two days ago

"Wake up, Mr Witwicky."

Sparkplug turned in his bed, sleepily, and then suddenly sat up with a start. Three men in dark suits stood at the foot of his bed, with another presence in the doorway who Sparkplug could barely see, he reached for his glasses and looked at them.

"What the blazes are you people doing in my house?" Sparkplug asked, rage building, as he made to climb out of bed and throw the intruders out.

Suddenly all three drew weapons on him. They were all holding Walter P-38s, easily recognisable as the alternate mode of the former leader of the Decepticons, Megatron.

"Please stay perfectly still Mr Witwicky. I don't want you to suffer needlessly." The man nearest to Sparkplug spoke smoothly. "My name is Berger. Sean Berger. I believe you've heard that name before?"

Sparkplug's mind was racing with possibilities. He was well past his physical prime and seemed unlikely to win in a straight fight with three armed intruders, plus whoever was still loitering in the doorway, and who knows how many other people in the house.

"Yes, that name is familiar to me. It belonged to a traitor."

The man chuckled.

"Indeed it did, Mr Witwicky, indeed it did. And that "traitor" as you so eloquently put it was my father."

Sparkplug looked at the man, and even in the dim light of the room he could see the resemblance. Sean Berger Senior had been an influential businessman and media mogul who had, due to them playing on his greed and desire for power, briefly helped the Decpticons have the Autobots exiled from earth in late 1985. Disgraced and humiliated he had been sentenced to twelve years in prison, before being released early due to ill health. Last Sparkplug had heard of him he was living a quiet life in an unspecified secluded role. During the Autobot's absence, the Decpticons had wreaked havoc in Central City, claiming many lives. Berger had a lot of enemies.

"Is that why you're here? To gain some stupid revenge for your father's disgrace? He helped the Decepticons enslave an entire city and was guilty as charged."

"Oh I quite agree Mr Witwicky. I told him as much earlier this week. He consorted with Transformers, and was a traitor to the human race. Something you both have in common."

"Wait a minute," Sparkplug protested "I worked with the Autobots, not the Decepticons. They've been our allies ever since they woke on this planet, they've saved all of us many times-"

"Silence, mindless slave!"

Sparkplug's blood chilled as an unmistakable voice came from the doorway. The figure walked into the room and took off his hood to reveal the misshapen, cybernetically-altered figure of Dr Arkeville.

"You were never an obedient slave, Sparkplug," Dr Arkeville began in a voice dripping with spite and hate. "Such a shame you never learned the capacity to understand a genius such as I."

"You're insane…quite insane. All of you." Sparkplug felt anger rising up within his body.

"We represent a group of people who believe that it's time for the human race to take back Earth from your disgusting Cybe allies," Arkeville continued. "And the deaths today of you and Mr Berger here's unlamented father shall bring the Autobot leaders here, and at our mercy. Farewell Mr Witwicky."

Arkeville nodded and suddenly all three men opened fire on the defenceless Sparkplug.

He slumped back onto the bed, blood seeping from multiple gunshot wounds. He tried to form words, but they bubbled and died in his throat. He thought of his son and grandson and how he wouldn't be able to say goodbye. His fingers wouldn't respond to his brain's commands as he tried to grab the side of the bed to pull himself up. The room started spinning and the intruders disappeared as everything turned white.

Suddenly he was no longer in the bedroom, no longer mortally wonded, no longer past his physical prime. Suddenly he was walking, a kindly gruff-voiced robot with a red helmet and gray crest asked him to fix a linkage, another with a faceplate and ears that glowed blue while he spoke waxed lyrical about some new invention. He walked on, and out into the open.

It was September 27th 1968 again. A smiling woman in a white dress was waiting for him. She had never looked so beautiful. Her arms were held out to him. Their fingers intertwined and she kissed him. Waves of love seemed to radiate off her, and all his worldy worries fell away, as miles away and years ahead of now, Sparkplug Witwicky died.