Sparks (Edited) 2: Melt Down

Pairing BeexSam

Rating PG-13 for now, but it will most likely change.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.

Hi, it's me again! I got such great feedback on the first chapter that I went ahead and finished the second.

So here it is, Enjoy

This has been beta'd but nobody's perfect. Comments and Critiques are welcomed and encouraged. Thanks! Much of the credit for this one goes to my big sister muzaiden. Also thanks to falleneos for the medal info.

So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter.

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Sparks (Edited) 2: Melt Down

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Staring at his cell phone, Miles Lancaster briefly wondered if his so-called best friend was avoiding him. He hadn't visited; he hadn't even called back since the whole car issue. After the incident at the lake he had every right to be irritated at the Sam, but that was then and then and this was, well. Deciding to bite the metaphorical bullet, he grabbed a few necessities including the peace offering and headed out the door, he left his car in the driveway, preferring instead to make the trip on foot, to figure what he was going to say. The block was quiet, but then it always had been, he smiled and walked along the hedge framing the entrance of the Witwicky's yard.

To his surprise, the lawn was a wreck not to mention Mrs. Witwicky's flowerbeds; he shook off the torpor and marched up the walkway avoiding the remains of scattered petunias he moved to the door. Upon climbing on to the porch, it was he then realized the front door was open.

He froze in the passageway waiting, listening. When nothing happened he moved on. Pushing the door, the teen slunk along the floorboards, peeking into the silent house. It was freaky, he decided, in like a horror movie kinda way. Poking into the kitchen, he made a solemn promise not to wander in to the woods or hit anybody with a car. Fishing in his pocket he retrieved his cell, punching the number he finally attempted to call his MIA comrade. With a bit of digging and luck, he'd be able to get to the bottom of the situation. Or find out if his buddy was really on the run following that encounter with police a few days before. Claiming an apple from the fruit bowl on the table, Miles made for the stairs. So intent was he on his search he didn't even realize he was being followed.

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Ronald Witwicky was a rather sensible man; it was that fact that kept him from, punching the sharply dressed man before him. The suit, had bluntly informed him his youngest son had been involved in a situation of interstellar importance. In short because of his lineage, mainly his great, great grandfather, he had been a target of aliens on a mission of galactic conquest. While that had been the sort of tripe of a lame B-horror movie, all he'd really gotten out of it was that his son was dead and they refused to let him and his wife see Sam's body.

Judy was beside herself, tears shining in her eyes as she sat nestled between Mikaela and another man, William. He'd stood and shaken Ron's hand when they'd arrived and attempted to explain, much as young Miss Banes had. He was no nonsense, left out the needless details and stuck with the facts. If they had met under drastically different circumstances, Ron was sure he would have liked the solider. Even so, his story was remarkable similar to the one gorilla in the jacket had spun. Fortunately, he had the empathy to say Sam; instead of your son. His tone had been one of respect, rather than formality. The way he saw it, Samuel had been a hero. It was the saving grace of the entire thing, he'd gone down fighting. No sacrifice, no victory. No matter how much pride Ron felt, it was but a balm. Nothing was going to bring back his boy.

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Cradling the warm cup in her hands Mikaela sipped at her tea, and looked to Captain Lennox.

It had been almost an hour since she'd seen Sam, and now he was-. She couldn't bring herself to think it, much less say it. Swallowing the warm liquid she touched Judy's hand.

One of the Doctor's had approached barely ten minutes before. He'd squared his chin and addressed the Witwicky's but Judy had dressed him in sharp words, her hand had been shaking in her lap.

She claimed the pair of them, Lennox and Banes, family and there had been no room for argument. Chastised he'd lead them led them all to another room and explained. It was there in his eyes, and words. The extent of the damage and what they'd done, trying to save Sam. It was like some horrible dream, hearing the words and realizing that is had happening to someone you loved. He finished with a chocked sound, the injuries had just been too much for Sam and that they'd done everything. In the end it just hadn't been enough. They sat there wordlessly now, offering solemn comfort.

Footsteps echoed close by and another suited figure stopped before them, Will rose to his feet followed by Mr. Witwicky, as he asked them to follow. They nearly refused then and there, but the badge he produced was an indication of two things. One, someone wanted their attention and two; they didn't have a choice in the matter. Mikaela took their cue and helped Judy to her feet, eyes hardening as they turned toward the man and the S7 badge.

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Unsettled to his very spark the Autobot Ratchet rocked on his wheels. It was just as he had feared. Sam had passed on to the matrix, and there was no mention of the All Spark. It was not that he did not care about the boy. He had cared too much it seemed, it was that kind of attitude that prevented him from attempting the surgery there in the street. He could have saved them possibly, could have attempted to circumvent the effects of the All Spark. Indeed, had the All Spark itself exacerbated Sam's injuries? More to the point had the All Spark's attempt to survive extinguished a life?

They were taking it hard, the all were but worse of all was the boy's guardian. Bumblebee was physically functional, but barely responsive. The newfound depression was exhibiting was startlingly comparable to the loss of a Spark-bonded. As far as Ratchet could tell, his sensors were been focused on the equipment that had been attached to his charge. The medic had scanned them over and over, just as the rest of the team, searching for any anomalies. At the moment they'd cut out however, Bumblebee had fallen silent.

In his own little word, that very scout was still searching for danger, sabotage and treachery.

Sam could not have been dead, he refused to believe it. His vocal processors were incapable of expressing anything akin to the pain he felt. Nothing could describe the emptiness. He wanted nothing more than to cry, but even that cathartic release was denied to him. Optimus had touched him in the mere instant the machines failed to keep Sam alive. His firm tone and kind words were a bitter pill, but necessary; an acknowledgment the passing of both charge and comrade.

"He was a fine soldier and an even better friend."

It was not supposed to happen, he was supposed to live. It was illogical, unexplainable. The scout wanted nothing more than to drive. Put his tires to the road and go far, far away. Somewhere anywhere. Away from the place of death, but there he sat, listening to the hum of unused machines. It was there he would remain dutifully, until dismissed. If he was to pay tribute, honor guard he would be. It was the only mission he had anymore.

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Ironhide was certainly not having the best day. First, the Decepticons had escaped his cannons, second he'd lost two friends and third he was laying low in a fraggin hospital parking lot. There was no help for it. Optimus was taking the necessary time to grieve and reflect on what they'd lost. Ironhide could not blame nor begrudge him. The lieutenant Jazz, he'd been prepared to fall in battle and had died with honor. Witwicky, Sam had been no more that kid, barely old enough to shoulder that sort of burden. He hadn't been quite a civilian anymore, but no one ever expected him to die. They each felt a responsible, but Megatron was more to blame than any of them. When they caught up to him, he would defiantly carve a bit of retribution out of his scraggly hide for Jazz and for Sam.

His thoughts turned to his Prime and what he was feeling, much less thinking. The burden of leader was a heavy one to bear. It was also a mantle he would bear until a new Prime was raised to the challenge; it was a position that no one envied.

The very mech in question, Optimus Prime was unaware of his officer's opinions, but tragically aware of the pair of GMC Yukon's parked in front hospital. They'd pulled up nearly four minutes before and had yet to move. Wary, even in mourning; he called the situation to the attention of his team.

As expected, they agreed with his assumptions the possibly sinister nature of the vehicles. Determining what sort of threat however was another matter entirely. Over the major lines of communication the Government had already begun decrying 'Mission City Incident' as a terrorist attack. The damage was excessive, though the loss of life had not been. It was a tragic understatement at the very least. Witnesses were already being taken into custody, but to what end Prime could only guess. Too many lives were being affected, too drastically and for what? The situation was deteriorating faster than he could have imagined. This was not the time for rash actions.

Four individuals exited the automatic doors of the hospital, escorted by men in suits.

Ironhide rumbled from his spot beside Optimus as Mikaela turned in their direction, with raised hand she signaled, five fingers on her left hand with two on her right. She nodded towards the cars before she too was directed into the back of the second Yukon behind Ronald Witwicky.

As the vehicles pulled away from the curb another engine roared to life. Not waiting for the opinions of his leader or commanding officers, Bumblebee followed close behind the departing convoy.

There was no way he was letting them out of his sight. Not this time. It seemed he would sooner submit to stasis lock, then let another human be harmed on his watch.

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Miles shifted in the uncomfortable chair, he'd been sitting there almost an hour or so he'd assumed. His phone had been taken so he wasn't too sure and still no one was explaining anything. Well, nothing intelligible at the least. The pretty blond, Maggie had tried, but he'd refused to believe in alien cars, even if he was supposedly in the so called secret base where'd they been held some time ago. A secret base inside Hoover Dam, it certainly was not what he'd expected one to look like. To be honest it seemed more like a dump.

Pressing his nose to the pane of glass separating himself from the cacophony below, Miles scrutinized the wrecked equipment the technician s that worked furiously. Larger than anything he'd even seen, the crock about aliens was beginning to look more and more likely. Armed men moved in formation across the floor and others rushed by in flapping lab coats. As Miles watched they moved a sheet wrapped gurney, the kind for bodies, across the floor earning a sad shrug and a "Poor bastard" from his lips.

His attention to the tragic tableau was snapped away as the door opened again admitting two men. Glenn, Maggie's oversized assistant managed an awkward salute and one smiled.

"Mr. Secretary-" Miss Madsen began, but found herself cut off as the teen made his presence known.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The elder of the pair addressed the other rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Simmons. What have I said about kidnapping?"

Straightening his tie the man mumbled something before turning to the raving blond boy.

"We found him in the Witwicky residence; he's also covered in it."

The inference of that fact alone, that he was covered in the radiation, it meant he'd come in contact with them. That meant he was a part of the cycle of events, for good or worse.

The teen sputtered a moment before yelling again, rounding on the man in the stupid black hat.

"Of course I was at the Witwicky's! They practically raised me, Sam's my best friend!"

The declaration hung in the air, and the room was eerily silent.

The man, who would later be identified as the Secretary of Defense John Keller, moved to his side and clapped a firm hand to his shoulder.

"My dear boy, I am so sorry."

His stomach dropped as the door opened again admitting the family in question. Ronald and Judy were followed closely by Mikaela and another man in dirty fatigues. Miles stared at them in surprise, his voice faltering as he managed to speak, his voice soft with the confusion written all over his face.

"What the hell is going on?"

Mikeala broke the silence, the so called evil jock concubine covered in scratches and dirt shook as she spoke. Succinct and almost wistful she weaved a tale of cars, artifacts and even more giant aliens. She kept to facts, spoke like she actually been there, had actually held Sam's hand when the dust settled. The young woman tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, she stuttered over the last time she'd seen him how she'd been "really glad she'd gotten in to that car."

By the end however she wasn't the only one near tears.

Squashing his initial urge to protest in disbelief, Miles Lancaster finally shut up and listened to what he was being told.

"He's gone?"

He sounded like a lost child, searching the faces of the room. He made a choked sound and Mrs. Witwicky pulled the man to her holding him tightly as she stroked his hair.

As the truth began to sink in, Miles shook clinging to the woman who was practically his second mother crying as he wrapped his head around the fact he'd just lost his brother and friend.

"Sam is gone."

Five steps but practically worlds away, next to the window overlooking the formerly secure facility, the Secretary of Defense spoke candidly with William Lennox and Ronald Witwicky.

Their hush tones broached the tender subject of funeral arrangements and post humus awards of service, the Medal of Honor in particular.

Staring listlessly out at cold stone Mikaela was briefly startled by the welcoming arms of Reginald Simmons. The man stumbled over condolences and awkward apologies, before he finally settled for the truth.

"He was a good man. Brave, steadfast and dedicated, I glad to have met him, despite the circumstances."

Nodding she accepted the hug for what it was, too was overwhelmed by emotion to reply.

The respectful silence was suddenly cut short as Glenn spoke aloud eyes wide in panic.

"Guys? What happened to the alien robots?"

At the moment the rumble of a speeding vehicle reverberated through the complex. Several technicians panicked at the sound moving for safety further into the tunnels. Their grief momentarily forgotten, those secluded in the observation deck rushed down the stairs to the main floor as the yellow striped visage of Bumblebee roared into view. Without warning Sam's Camaro practically surged upward shifting and rearranging itself into a humanoid shape.

Stumbling back Miles dropped to the floor, mouth agape as the robotic creature loomed. Its bright blue optics were however, focused on the girl beside him. Mikaela lifted her arms to the mechanoid as it made a shrill suffering sound.

"It's okay Bee" she insisted despite the tears in her eyes.

The whine tapered off, but that was all, the alien eyes flickered dimly in the light. It knelt before them, its large hands settled on its knees as it surveyed the place of its captivity. Shaking its massive head it turned back to the human before it, a soft whimper working its way from the ruined throat. His scans took in their sullen expressions and leaking optics and he too was struck by grief. Death was a certainty for their species he known. He'd thought he'd be strong enough to handle it when the time came. In an instant however everything had changed. He'd lost the best friend he'd ever known and his very spark ached with that loss.

Another sound escaped his healing vocal processors and he reached forward, the tips of his massive fingers, brushing the floor as he gently smoothed the young woman's ruffled hair. Mikaela immediately grasped his index finger, holding the digit close as turned to look at those behind her. She knew what she had to do.

"This is Bumblebee."

Almost as if bidden, Judy Witwicky moved across the floor stopping just before the robotic creature. Wiping away another tear, she reached forward despite the protests of her husband and adopted son, she pressed a hand to the knee of the Camaro. Their eyes met and she knew she just knew, why he made those awful keening wails. He had been Sam's guardian, the one who had nearly killed himself trying to protect her son. Patting the scorched metal she nodded at him.

"Bumblebee, thank you. You did all you could for my boy."

Unfortunately not everyone could see it that way. Miles angry shout was silenced the room and drew the creature's attention.

"You! This is your fault! All of it!"

Rushing the mech he pushed past Judy and he half-climbed, half-stumbled up its body. Scrabbling for purchase the teen caught the bundling cables and wires in the mech's throat. Griping his handhold tightly he kicked the thing in the chest once. Wincing, he began shouting again, the pain and fury etched into his features.

Bumblebee wailed as small hands tugged viciously on his vocal cords. It had not been the youth's intention, but he was angry and hurt. He had been Sam's friend, obnoxious and strange but a good person nonetheless. Any friend of Sam's was-. The boy would not come to harm, not while he still functioned. Another squeeze dislodged a connector and his scream was silenced.

"If it wasn't for that thing! If it wasn't for it, Sam would!"

A small pitiful sob touched his spark and the assaulted mechanoid lifted his hands attempting to hold the figure raging against his chassis

Hands hauled the boy away, disentangling his fingers from the twisted wiring and dripping cables.

He whimpered again, the attempt as painful as the fact that he made no sound. Blue liquid splattered on the yellow paint and the floor and Bumblebee hunched over, trembling on the ground. Even as Miles screamed again, fighting William Lennox trying to get at the monster, three other vehicles entered the base. Weaving around the broken machines and debris the Autobots stopped behind the rasping Camaro.

Even before Maggie could scream they too changed rising above the humans, their shadows blocking the light from above. They moved to their comrade's side, facing the tiny humans screaming. The blond youth tore free, stumbling before the yellow Camaro again. Finally his voice worked its way from his throat, allowing him to say what he'd really wanted to say. It was irony; Bumblebee discovered that the boy found the one thing plaguing his own processors in a painful cycle of cruelty.

"If it wasn't for you, Sam would still be alive!"

Staring at the tableau, Simmons only turned to Glenn a disgusted look on his face.

"You just had to open your mouth didn't you?"

The portly man shook his head waving a finger at the scene.

"I didn't mean them. I wanted to know about that thing from before, that one that was trying to kill us."