Title: Sparks 17: Flame-War
Pairing BeexSam, Barricade/ProwlxJazz, RatchetxIronhide, TwinsxMiles,
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does and some others, but that's not the point. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
Comments and Critiques welcome
This is not the end of everything. Just the end of the beginning. And what a beginning, I never expected anything like this when I first started writing and now look. I'm really overwhelmed, by the feedback I've received. Thank you for all of your support. I owe everyone so much, so I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. There will be more to this series, just not this arc. Sparks: Flames is in the works.
Betaed by the awesome Dragoona.
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. You're my hero hon!
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Sparks 17
Flame-War
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In the silence Prowl waited. The brig was nearly empty. He had time to think, time to remember, and time to wait. Prime hadn't appeared in some time, but the tactician wasn't worried. He almost empathized with the big bot. The tactician was not sure how to handle the situation either. He had attacked another mech, a neutral, outside of a combat situation. To make matters worse, the Cybertronian was a self-proclaimed convert to the Autobot cause. Barricade was untrustworthy, but the entirety of Prime's forces knew they would need all the support they could find for the fight against Megatron. Prowl himself would rather rip out his own spark than accept Barricade's help.
But accepted it had been, metaphorically speaking. Bowing his head, the tactician refused to look at his adversary. The transformed Saleen paced his cell beside Prowl's own. The Autobot's spark mate had been taken. Even now that Jazz was alive and back among their forces, Prowl was denied even the comfort of the previous connection between them. The Charger was now forced to accept the sickening fact that Barricade, whether by hook or crook, was now bonded to Jazz. Nearly inconsolable, the only thing Prowl wanted now was peace.
Turning sharply, Barricade moved closer to the bars dividing them, eying the morose mech. An amused sneer crossed his features.
"So you scanned a new alternate mode, how interesting."
Blue optics met the Interceptor's for the briefest of moments before Prowl looked away. Taking a step or two closer to the glowing bars, inspecting the silent form of his quarry, the Decepticon spoke again.
"This form is somewhat bulky and colorless for my taste, but you're rather easy on the optics."
Scowling at the compliment, Prowl forced air through his vents. Anger would not solve any problems, nor would violence, no matter how much better it might make him feel.
No. He would not give into the overwhelming temptation to hit the mech again. The pair of them were currently suffering the repercussions from the last time Prowl lost control. Pressing a hand to his shoulder, Prowl winced slightly. However slight, the pain was a sobering reminder of just what had made him so angry.
"It's such a shame," The pacing mech drawled, his wings swaying as he turned "that I'm already bonded."
The energy bars that divided them crackled at his touch, but Prowl merely growled in reply. Practically vibrating with rage he addressed the Decepticon prisoner, undaunted by the fact that he, too, was being detained.
"How dare you! To think that even one of your kind could be so depraved as to force yourself on a captive." Prowl's wings flared in anguish, his vocalizer crackling with static at his fury.
"I did nothing that Jazz didn't beg me to do." Peering back at Prowl, Barricade laughed, his entire form shaking with the guttural sound.
The hum of the dividing bars rose in pitch, sparks flicking from Prowl's hands as he clawed at the cell bars.
"You lie."
"You delude yourself." Twisting around, the Saleen moved closer, flashing coils of energy casting his cruel smile in stark relief. "I was there and convenient."
"Jazz would have thrown himself at anyone." Leaning forward, just away from the crackling bars, the Con met Prowl's optics with a salacious grin.
"No. He would have never. He..." Stepping back, all the burned officer could do was stand and stare at his smoking hands, the pain barely registering in his processors.
"Then why am I now his bondmate? Could it be that he did not wish to be bonded to you?"
The thought never crossed his mind. Eons ago, Prowl knew exactly how Jazz felt about their relationship. The saboteur never failed to tell him or show him. Always grinning, whispering endearments as he stole less than innocent touches at the most inappropriate moments. Jazz was never one to shy away from displays of affection. It was that spontaneity and warmth that Prowl missed the most.
The moment their bond shattered was an agony like nothing else he would ever know. The glaring absence of their link echoed through his spark. The refuge of duty became his only solace. Prowl wrapped himself in procedure and regulations, burying his sorrow and his pain. Now, with the glaring discovery of Jazz's new sparkmate, his wound was laid bare. Every sensation came rushing back, the anger and uncertainty burned through his frame as he watched the Decepticon.
Barricade.
Prowl could hardly believe this abomination of a mech now held the spark of his beloved. There was nothing to say, no way to cope. It was distressing to believe it had been Jazz's choice; that this mech was the one Jazz wanted. Was it even possible? Glancing back he noted the unusual sincerity in the crimson optics. There was no reason for him to lie, not if the truth hurt worse.
"If that's his choice," Prowl replied tonelessly, distancing himself from the deplorable reality.
"Will you not fight for him?" Barricade stared, confusion twisting his face, the smug expression no more than a memory.
Shaking his head as he pressed a hand to his chest plating, Prowl felt for it. That flicker of life, the last vestiges of another's spark held within his own. That bit of energy he cradled inside for so long. It was still there. That last bit of Jazz he could call his own. It kept him sane and amongst the functioning since he felt the mech die three orns and thirty-one joors ago.
"It's his choice. I will not force him."
"And if he doesn't pick you?"
Nestled in to the deepest recesses of himself, Prowl found it cradled within the energy of his spark. It was bright, silver, and full of light and love. The small part which was left inside of him, the last connection he held to his bond mate. Shuttering his optics, he bowed his head and let that tiny spark go.
"You'll protect him."
It hurt like nothing else, the pain as that sliver of his soul burst.
Prowl was aware of falling to the ground, his wings crumpled against the floor underneath him. It was just another injury to add to his collection. Even so, that crushing pain was bearable compared to what burning pain Prowl endured every moment since the loss of his bond. He didn't have to like it, but Jazz would be kept safe. Barricade would see to that.
Prowl's optics flickered and the room spun. His will to continue functioning left him, extinguishing his spark along with it. It was a noble sacrifice. Jazz would have hated it.
Prowl barely heard the vocalized deactivation codes or the heavy footsteps of the Decepticon moving to his side. Sharp claws brushed his chest as Jazz's bonded watched him die.
"Jazz," he hissed at the touch and the thought of the silver mech he always loved flitted across his processor once more. "If you live, then I-"
Another voice cut him off and Barricade knelt, his caress gentle despite the pain.
"He yearns for you."
Growling softly, the mech pressed harder, claws skimming old and new wounds as he climbed atop the prone form. Prowl hissed, nearly going offline, but the Decepticon wasn't having it. Barricade's less than gentle touch kept the Charger cognizant as he leaned closer.
"I can feel it. He craves and rejects me because he remembers you, and I can feel it in my spark." Barricade's sharp digits slipped into the seam of his chest plate beginning the arduous task prying them apart. "It's almost as if I ache for you as well."
Resisting as best he could, Prowl continued to be overwhelmed by excruciating pain. He shuddered beneath the defector as the faint glow of his fading spark illuminated both of their battered frames. Nuzzling him, Barricade hissed against his lip components before dragging a sharp digit over his spark casing.
"Let's find out what all the fuss is about."
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The sound of his footsteps rung oddly through the Autobot base, but it was not the first time his size had been an inconvenience. Skyfire was used to such things as his design was suited for combat as opposed to exploration. His size was never the smallest complication to his studies. His peers in Science Academy alternatively teased and feared him. Most seekers, or fliers in general were wild and unpredictable by their very nature, but he surprised them all.
Well, almost all of them. Starscream always teased while encouraging him to rise above his frame-type to perform to the best of his ability. The rather prickly mech turned out to be a stimulating companion and the best assistant for his planetary investigation project. Unfortunately, providence was not with them upon their arrival to this arm galaxy.
After long centuries of association, Starscream fell in with an unsavory crowd. Stooping to take sides in the war, a practice Starscream once deemed as foolhardy and unnecessary.
Ducking as he crossed into another hall, the large seeker mourned the change in his old friend. It was a shame to find the most intelligent officer in the Science Academy choosing to take part in such a barbaric endeavor. That in of itself spoke much of the state of their deteriorating society.
Nothing more than a division of Cybertronians, war simply pit brother against brother in a battle where everyone lost. Hate only begets more hate, violence demands violence in return in a never ending cycle. No one ever wins a war. In the end, there are only survivors.
Here they were, so far from the planet they loved. The last vestiges of the Golden Age, standing on the brink of more battle and death. It was all for a power no one could wield. Here, drawing another society into their war.
What was it all for?
This new battle was a mere carryover from the conflict that had ravaged their home.
Life?
No, it was nothing so simple.
They fought over the origin of all Cybertron.
The spark of life.
The medbay was blissfully silent, its only occupants a single teen lying on a berth much too large for him and his guardian kneeling beside him. Crossing the threshold, Skyfire moved closer, peering over the tiny human mindful of his sentinel. The much smaller Autobot turned to him briefly before focusing his attention back to the boy.
Samuel.
The very one who now bore the All Spark laid silent, and his eyes stared sightless. His lids closed briefly and he sighed, his movements making him look smaller on the berth. His hands drifted to the table and he whispered a name, the single syllable flowing lovingly from his lips.
Calm and sure, the scout brushed a finger over him, urging him to go back to sleep. Only when his eyes shut once more did Bumblebee address the seeker above them.
"I owe you my thanks."
"It is unnecessary." Skyfire uttered.
"Even so, I appreciate what you've done." Bumblebee affirmed in reply.
Inclining his head, Skyfire took a moment to scrutinize the scout, as they watched the boy. A curious thing to be sure, but something he understood. Such feelings obvious in himself and his apprentice as they once traversed the endless star field in tandem.
It was adoration, compassion.
Love.
The mechs lapsed into companionable silence, until a single encoded burst of information passed through their communication systems, a summons' for one of them. Bumblebee moved slowly, reluctantly. He dragged his digits over the berth just brushing against the embodiment of the ancient Cybertronian relic. At once Skyfire called to him, laying a large but gentle hand to his shoulder. He sought to inquire of the message, but instead he found himself making a promise.
"I will watch over him."
"Again, it seems I owe you my thanks." Surprised, a soft trill rose from Bumblebee's vocalizer.
No more was said as the young Autobot moved away, leaving his charge in the capable hands of the scholar. Not that he had experience with humans, but the sleeping boy would likely remain so until after his guardian returned.
Sam, it seemed, had other plans. Whether it was the absence of Bumblebee or the unfamiliarity of his proxy, the teen shifted, calling out for the missing mech.
"Your guardian is with the other Autobots." Skyfire reassured the small human below him.
Confusion registered within the drowsy features, but the seeker continued dropping to his knees, the movement shaking the room.
"They are preparing to combat the approaching Decepticons. It would seem the Decepticons are coming to retrieve the artifact they believe is most important."
"Me." Pushing up from the berth Sam bowed his head, fingers clenching in the sheet draped over his body.
"And the power you hold," clarified the large seeker.
A soft curse worked its way from the former human. Sam slammed his hand into the smooth metal beneath him, pressing his head against his raised knees.
"I never asked for this power." He shook, curled in on himself and his voice full of anger and tears.
"No one who deserves it ever does." Skyfire avowed, "It is the way the universe to be unexpected. Isn't this true for humans as well?"
"It wasn't my fight," Sam whispered clinging tight to himself, a faint glow rising up from his skin. "I just happened to be in the wrong place..." He stilled at once, lifting his head, to meet the eyes of the seeker over him.
"It's some twisted sort of destiny. My family and those stupid glasses. This was probably preordained or something right?"
Just above the berth Skyfire watched him carefully, noting the changes of his form. It was not what he expected. The actual phenomenon illuminated an idea he'd never considered.
"It can be seen that way, but you did possess the choice to forgo the fight, to surrender the All Spark. In fact you could have made a number of different choices. Is this true?"
"I..."
"You also possess the same ability now, no matter what you believe to be true."
Unfolding, Sam peeled the sheet from his body, wincing slightly as his muscles protested.
"I am never giving Megatron this power."
"In that, I do not believe there will be a problem."
An inquisitive look touched the facial plates of the mech and he extended a single cable to the remaining port in the avatar's wrist. Accepting the link, Sam was aware of Prime's voice, sudden and deep, echoing through him.
The flood of information rippling through Sam was unexpected, but nowhere near as much as the sound of Prime speaking in the back of his mind. It was almost as if he was there, among the Autobots, staring up at their leader.
"They will, as with every attack before, strike without mercy seeking the death of their opponents, us. To stage such an assault means the Decepticons must have the All Spark to further their goal. Megatron would never be so straightforward if he was not desperate."
Sitting there listening to Optimus' words, Sam felt himself shake, fear rising in the absence of Bumblebee. Sam almost called out for his guardian, but Prime began to speak again and everything else seemed to fade with the rumble of his voice.
"We must face the Decepticon forces, without hesitation. We must neutralize this threat at any cost."
There, he could hear it, just under the vocal inflections. Prime's remorse hit Sam hard, leaving the shaking teen clutching the cable in his wrist, pulling desperately. A large servo covered his hand, stopping his frantic movements. Skyfire was there, leaning to meet his gaze.
"Listen."
"We must protect the All Spark." Prime declared.
Something in Sam shuddered, the twinge of the power within him rising. The sheer feel of that energy was exhilarating, but horrifying at the same instant. There was no denying what he was, what he transformed into the moment he died. Again, it was the words of Optimus that reached him, grounded him against the panic in his spark.
"We must protect Sam." Optimus finished solemnly.
Drawing back, Sam shut his eyes wishing at once for the impossible. A wry hope lost in his heart, but it was useless. There was no way to turn back time. The stark reality of this new existence hit him and he struggled to breathe. They were on their way. The Decepticons were coming for him. With a shaky exhale Sam laid back down, his fingers tracing symbols into the metal of the berth beneath him.
The Autobots were willing to die to protect him. He was now the source of their life, their last hope. It was overwhelming, terrifying, but there was no way he could let it take over him.
Not now, never again.
The stillness stretched on, he brushed a finger over the jack in his wrist and the cable connecting him to Skyfire. It was apparent to Sam, as he lay there, that there was one option left. There was only way to save a species that bordered on extinction. Sam knew in that moment, that he was willing to make such a sacrifice.
As the cable retracted, so did his cursory link with the ancient scientist. Skyfire offered a small expansion of his facial plates, the nearest he could come to a smile.
"Your plan, while curiously advantageous is needlessly hazardous." Skyfire confirmed.
The look Sam turned in his direction was strangely reminiscent of the looks Starscream had given him so long ago. Another moment and they broke the gaze, having reached an understanding.
Lowering himself to the floor, Sam was not prepared for the steadying touch of a Cybertronian hand.
"In any case, the optimal solution is victory, no sacrifice necessary," observed the mech.
"Sometimes it's the only way," in Sam's tone there was no regret, only determination and steadfast hope.
The hand moved away and the seeker rose to nearly his fully height. Skyfire final words were more a statement of fact than a customary farewell, an acceptable substitution under the circumstances.
"Certainly a strong one, your spark is. It is an honor to know you are the one who holds the All Spark and the burden of its power."
Moving towards the door Sam smiled weakly, once more.
"Somebody has to."
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Jazz twitched almost imperceptibly as the warning klaxons began anew. His place beside Ratchet was as close to being under guard as he could be, what with Prowl still in the brig. Not that the saboteur was confined, the medic just didn't want Jazz doing anything stupid, or so he claimed. It was good to be back, even if Jazz didn't quite know the situation. Occupational hazard, he supposed. Jazz's spark throbbed and he laid a servo to his aching chest, watching Prime address the Autobots and their allies.
Optimus was exactly as Jazz remembered him, the pull of facial plates as he spoke, the inflections in his voice underscoring the severity of the threat that approached them. It was practically the same speech Prime made before, with specific differences. It was just as welcome as it had been back on Cybertron ages ago. Jazz leaned over, smirking at the Autobot CMO. Ratchet scowled back, but said nothing.
Jazz knew he shouldn't have been on duty, but here he was and he owed it all to one extraordinary young man, Sam. Shifting beside the much larger mech, he smoothed a servo over the barely visible seam bisecting his chassis. It was a debt he was looking forward to repay.
"They'll attack at dawn." Optimus explained.
Just under the pedes of the flame emblazoned speaker, Reginald Simmons snubbed out a cigarette.
"So damn cliché." He sniped in reply.
His remark, however, was ignored in favor of creating a battle plan. It was almost easy, knowing their enemy as well as they did. The Decepticons, those they'd faced countless times before, who were their friends, lovers, and even brothers. And now, so far from their home, this terrible war was taking its toll on this planet as well.
Footsteps echoed in the hanger as the tactical officer of the Autobots stepped into the room, followed by the recent Decepticon defector. As grim as the moment was, no one gave the pair a backwards glance. It was if their appearance had been expected. Jazz, however, could not help but stare openly at their black and white frames and the incriminating damage decorating both mechs.
It was almost as if...
Jazz turned back to Prime after Barricade stepped to his side. Wordlessly, Prowl took his place beside Optimus. All faces were grave, steadfast, and determined; human and Cybertronian alike. Everyone understood the purpose of the upcoming battle and what it would mean if they lost. No one was willing to let such a tragedy happen, even at the cost of their lives.
The wailing of the siren began once more as the assembled forces shifted nervously. Scowling openly, Barricade moved forward quickly, closing his hand about the throat of a black seeker who suddenly appeared with a ripple of spatial distortion and a loud pop. It grumbled as it struck at the former Con, angry recognition in its optics. Moving closer, Prowl addressed the seeker shaking off his momentary bewilderment.
"Why are you here?"
"I have come from the Decepticon forces at the behest of Lord Megaton." It craned its head to look at Optimus Prime before continuing. "I am here to deliver an ultimatum to you, last in the line of Primes."
Watching it carefully, Optimus made no move.
"Tell me, what does Megatron have to say?" Prime inquired of it.
Sneering at Prime, the small seeker vanished in an instant before reappearing to knock Barricade off his pedes. Clambering upon the snarling form, he addressed Prime again.
"Give us the All Sparky and you may yet live." Nodding, the mech seemed rather pleased with itself.
"And if we refuse?" Ratchet queried, accessing his diplomatic programming.
Red optics focused quickly upon the medic and the Decepticon's glyph marked wings twitching ever so slightly.
"Then you will fall."
Snorting at once, Ironhide closed the distance between him and their intruder cannons humming pleasantly as he charged them.
"You can have this instead." He offered at cannon point.
The caustic threat did nothing to phase the unusual mech, whose odd behavior marked it as a recent creation of the All Spark's power. It leapt from its perch, latching on to the Topkick, heedless of the danger or the warning from Prime.
Staring in abject horror, the assembled humans could only watch as it drove wickedly tapered claws into the whirling weapon, giving itself and the walking gun turret quite a shock. Snarling, it jumped away as Ironhide smashed into the floor glaring after it.
"I don't think I like that," it announced truthfully before shaking off the injury. "I shall deliver your reply, Prime. You have been warned. Your continued resistance is futile."
With another ripple of energy it was gone, leaving everyone staring in silence.
Miles was the only one brave enough to speak afterwards, hands propped on his hips.
"Sam's alien kids are stupid," he paused to look around. "No offense dudes, but what sort of hope is that for the species?"
"One that is precious, more so than you can even imagine." The sharp reply crackled over Bumblebee's recently mended vocalizer. The briefing was now complete, and everyone moved to make themselves useful in the remaining hours before dawn.
Bumblebee nodded to Prime and was on his way, heading back to his sleeping charge. Watching him go, Optimus couldn't help but wonder over the recent turn of events and everything that had been said. Turning at once, Prime made for the great doors that lead out into the desert. In the cool night, the sliver of a silver moon over the sand reminded him of home.
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Sam shivered, trying not to watch the clock. He couldn't sleep. Not while the populace of Tyger Pax were taking time to rest and prepare. Megatron would attack at dawn, no sooner. Apparently even a mech as heartless as he was abided by honor. No matter how they praised such virtue, it wouldn't save them during the battle. Megatron, Sam never wanted to face him again, but the boy was through letting his nightmares take control of his responses.
Bee's servos found him easily, pulling him back against the golden form, cradling him close. While the touch was soft and sweet, it was completely possessive and sure. A laugh echoed from the teen and he turned to stare the holoform kneeling beside him. It was going to be ok. At least that was his hope.
There was more at stake then just his life now; the fate of the world for one thing. It sounded tacky, but that was the reality they now faced. For lasting peace, they would have to stop the Decepticons permanently. Was that even possible? Could Sam kill someone? Could he end Megatron, who was willing to destroy Earth for his own agenda?
Sam met the gaze of his guardian and he knew.
He would have to kill Megatron.
Soft holographic lips brushed against Sam's and Bumblebee slowly transformed. Sliding against the smooth plates, Sam responded to the touch without tears, without fighting. Static flickered between them, through their lips and fingers, where skin met skin. It was thrilling and terrifying, but neither seemed ready to stop.
No, not this time, he was not going to panic. Shutting his eyes, Sam allowed himself to be lifted into the Autobot's welcoming embrace. Sandwiched between Bumblebee's two forms, balanced upon the warm chest plates, large fingers dragged at the band of Sam's pants. The reincarnation of the All Spark smiled into the touch, accepting the not quite solid kiss from Bee's Holoform. It pulled away with curious expression, but Sam's slow nod banished any question Bee could process and he nuzzled the human's neck, thumbs tracing the elegant symbols across Sam's chest.
This time, when Sam shuddered, it had nothing to do with the cold. Gazing at Bee, the barefoot teen found himself shifted as the mech's engine vibrated under him. He'd been in that position so many times before, tucked against Bee's chest plates, but this time it seemed so much more extraordinary. Sliding a hand up along a facial plates, Sam pressed his lips to Bee's vocalizer.
"I-"
"It's alright Sam." Shaking his head, the Autobot kissed the teen in return, silencing him in an effort to be heard.
The bearer of the All Spark's power obviously wasn't convinced that it was. Smiling again Bumblebee leaned over Sam, parting the panels of his chest. He touched the boy then, enjoying the slow upsurge of energy between their forms.
"What can we say that hasn't already been said?" Explained Bumblebee.
Finally understanding, Sam nodded, singing softly against Bee's lips. The glyphs engraved in his flesh glowed brighter than ever before as he reached for Bee's spark.
"So live like you mean it. Love til you feel it. It's all that we need in our lives."
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Pacing the short length of the oversized hanger the team claimed, Mikaela Banes went over the specifics of the weapon nestled against her breasts. It was small, but it packed a punch; a modified automatic with a high heat transference. She needed to wear gloves while using it, but the effects were well worth the minor inconvenience.
There was something to be said about efficiency and she respected her superior for it. Simmons certainly came a long way since that day she forced him to strip down to his underwear. It seemed like lifetimes ago. A rueful smile crossed her expressive features and Long Arm remarked as such, spinning his tow cable about his fingers.
As she paused to twist her hair back over her shoulder, the grin faded a bit.
"Thinking of a simpler time," she admitted softly.
"We fight Decepticons, how much simpler can it get?" Just beyond her partner, Sunstreaker turned.
Rising from the oversized box of tools and medical equipment, Miles attempted to correct at his guardian.
"Well if you take a moment to recall, the last three skirmishes we've had with the Robotic Forces of Evil we've come out worse for wear."
"Then it's a good thing you're wearing protection, isn't it?" Peering down, the yellow mech offered a shrug.
The thinly veiled innuendo garnered a few a few looks, some laughter and a scowl from its recipient.
"It's not a joke Sunstreaker." Miles growled back, flushing in embarrassment.
"It's still funny." Crossing the room, Barricade snorted unexpectedly.
The modicum of comradeship that passed between the soldiers was effectively silenced as Prowl called the team to attention. It was still early as they followed the tactician's orders to finalize their preparations.
Dawn was coming, with eyes and optics focused on the horizon as they waited. It was here in the time before daybreak, that nothing seemed important. All the anger, fear, and strife between them was pushed aside for a larger goal. All of this to ensure the safety of one human, a teen who was the very last hope for the survival of the Cybertronian species.
As Optimus Prime entered the hanger, the three assembled units turned as one. The humans of Sector Seven and those of the United States Armed Forces stood with the Autobots, just as focused on the mission before them. Striding forward Prime spoke little, preferring instead to rally them all around what they had in common.
Moving at a much more sedate pace, Samuel Witwicky stepped into the room, his scarred hands tucked into the voluminous pockets of an old hoodie. Stopping just there, he looked about the room, taking it all in as he met the eyes of everyone standing before him. They knew the odds and so did he. A determined look passed over his face and Sam straightened up before taking another step forward.
He addressed the room's occupants, his voice soft, but steady. It was unlike any debriefing anyone of them had ever had, but it served as more of a purpose; a reminder to all present just what they were fighting for. He stuttered over a family motto and stared at his toes rambling awkwardly until he finally closed his mouth. As everyone stared back, a blush crossed his face and he laughed, lifting a hand to wave instead.
"Good Luck."
To the surprise of no one in particular, Bumblebee responded first, his Holoform solidifying as he moved toward Sam. Taking the extended hand in his own, he leaned close pulling Sam against his chest. The motive behind the actions was hardly lost on anyone as the teen shyly returned the embrace. As public as the display was, Bee's words were only for Sam.
"I don't need luck."
They stood there for a moment, just touching while taking comfort in each other. Shutting his eyes, Sam lifted his hand to Bee's face and pulled him closer.
"Then take this."
It was slower and softer than he'd ever kissed anyone in his life, but it seemed so much more important. He wanted Bumblebee to understand, to see how much he cared, to know he would never love any else.
Fingers tightened at his back, sparks flitted through their connection and Sam felt it. That spark, the one locked safe behind Bumblebee's golden plates, belonged to him.
Blinking back tears, Sam managed a goofy smile, realizing just what the young Autobot was suggesting.
Any heartfelt reply he was about to make was interrupted as Miles spoke up.
"You guys can make out later, Sun's coming up."
And that was it; time seemed to start again, the flurry of activity reaching a fever pitch as Optimus finally spoke.
"Autobots," His paused to infer all others present. "Roll Out."
The team moved out into the sunlit sand, leaving Sam staring at the holoform. This was it. This battle would decide their future, if they would even have one. It was nothing like Sam though it would be, but then, he never expected to bear an alien artifact for the rest of his life either. Lips brushed his cheek and he looked to Bumblebee.
"You can answer when I come back." The Bot insisted, finally releasing the teen.
Nodding, Sam watched him fade into nothing, tears finally breaking through as Sam realized he would never be able to answer Bee.
Never get to accept the Autobot's Sparkbond proposal.
171717171717171717
Smoke and dust hung like clouds as explosions echoed across the terrain, now littered with broken glass and scorched sand. The sound of screeching metal was just as harsh as the painful screams of a downed seeker facing the dual wrath of the Autobot twins. Pinning its wings beneath his feet, Sideswipe wobbled, his own weapons as useless as his brother's missing left arm. They stood their ground among the kicked up debris, as Soundwave's cassettes advanced on their position.
Racing over blue splattered sand, Jazz was followed by a cadre of humans as he moved towards the large tank of a Decepticon he had not managed to defeat before his untimely death. His opponent, Brawl, was almost as comfortable with desert combat as Scorponok. Terrifyingly close to their position, the giant scorpion was picking off soldiers and agents from below the sand.
There, something flashed and the saboteur whirled firing once, twice. Men hit the ground hard as the sand rippled beneath them and the fleeing Decepticon disappeared back underground. Turning to assess their status, Jazz completely missed the appearance of another seeker dead set on taking him out. This slight, as inattentive as it was, was quickly rectified by a sudden strike from a spinning ball of spikes wielded by Barricade. Snarling, the injured flier warped away again, leaving Jazz to acknowledge the assist before he returned to his task.
Across the field, Miles held tight to his mentor's shoulder, a hand raised to the scratched goggles shielding his eyes from the sun and sand. Just like a day at the beach, only with more lethal combat. Sliding a hand to the radio in his pocket, Miles called for a head count.
To his surprise, there were no fatalities, but the number of injured was rising steadily. Descending his fighting transport, he relayed his next destination and resettled his tool bag over his shoulder. With a barked order not to get himself killed, Ratchet sent Miles on his way to the last known location of the Autobot Bumblebee.
High above, Starscream was not involved in combat. Rather, he was staring at the face of a ghost long gone. Circling the larger mech defensively, he ignored the fight unsure if this sudden blast from the past was a trick or not. Unworried by such a turn of events, Skyfire greeted him warmly, cheered to know he had not been forgotten after all.
Though he'd strived for a rematch with Prime, Bonecrusher had to resort to breaking the mouthy femme who mistakenly challenged him. She was spirited, but that would not amount to much when he finally destroyed her. To his confusion, she feinted, leaving him at the mercy of volley of projectiles as Blackout strafed across the field. Bonecrusher roared angrily as he found he could not rise, but he sated the hunger for vengeance by driving a clawed hand through her exposed chassis.
As Prowl faced Megatron's subordinate, Soundwave, so too Prime faced his brother. Battle mask in place, the enigmatic leader took a heavy blow, stumbling back half a step, as he brought up his sword to parry.
Striking Prime again, Megatron took sheer delight in dragging his claws over the sensitive panels of Prime's chest. Delivering a solid kick in reply, Optimus caught sight of Ironhide in the sands shielding a contingent of humans. The momentary distraction nearly ended the fight, but the Autobot leader was faster than he looked, rolling to the side in the last moment.
"I will have the All Spark."
There was no arguing with such a tone, but Prime has spent ages opposing the insanity that had claimed his brother.
"Never."
"This planet will fall beneath me and all that lives on its pathetic surface will be obliterated," roared the silver tyrant.
Avoiding another strike, Optimus return the blow in kind cutting through a layer of sliver plating as he answered.
"I won't let you destroy another planet, another people," advancing on the Decepticon, Prime raised his sword. "I won't let you destroy another life."
Prime's blade came down hard as Megatron's fusion cannon fired, the sheer recoil of the shot knocked the Decepticon into the dirt as Optimus collapsed from the blast.
Energon splattered from their wounds, the hum of the cannon faded. For Megatron, it was a struggle to rise, but a victory to watch Optimus Prime struggle to stand. Crowing with joy, the Decepticon commander moved to finish the job, to end the battle for the All Spark once and for all. Beyond the scorched and torn panels gleamed the light of Prime's spark, but Megatron was more focused on ending the life of its owner than rekindling the romance between them.
Surveying the battle field once more before meeting optics with his brother, Megatron allowed a satisfied smile to pass over his features.
"It's over, Optimus."
The decisive victory of the Decepticons was halted suddenly as a voice broke through the sounds of war.
"No, it isn't."
As Megatron turned, the half risen Autobot could make out the shape of a single unarmed human standing in the midst of the battle field. All at once, panic gripped him and he tried to stand, to fight, to do anything.
"Sam!"
The shout carried well across the battlefield, causing everyone who possessed the ability to view the proceedings to do so with unmitigated horror or cruel satisfaction.
It was the end.
Marching forward, ungloved hands at his side, the avatar of the All Spark stared up at Megatron.
Somewhere someone screamed, but it wasn't important, not as important as the teen facing his worst nightmare. A claw tipped servo reached for Samuel James Witwicky. Sam didn't shirk the grasping digits, ignoring the cries of terror that resounded from his allies as the Decepticon lifted him into the air.
The end of the world was at hand.
As all watched, the ancient runes on Sam's skin began to glow, the light permeating through the fabric of his shirt. Reaching out, Sam touched a hand to his captor's metallic plating and Megatron began to shine as well. Silver light spiraled up from flesh, meeting the blue spark glow resonating from the Lord High Protector. Slowly, the crimson of Megatron's optics began to flicker.
Staring at the tableau before them, all combatants were as still as stone, watching the tendrils of the All Spark's power as it pervaded the boy and mech. Megatron grip seemed to loosen and he stared into the smoldered eyes of the human clutched in his claws. It was almost as if he understood the change taking place within his coding. He sneered in indignation and crushed the insignificant fleshling in retaliation.
With a single crack, everything changed. The light faded instantly and Sam went limp, blood spreading from the wound in his chest. A choked gasp died in his throat as his lips turned red, head lolling as yet another scream cut through the battle field. Withdrawing the claw, Megatron noted the twitch the body gave as the eyelids fluttered.
It was over.
If he couldn't have that power, it would cease to exist forever. Pressing down on the bloody wound he lifted the dying creature closer to his sneering grin.
"Will of Primus or not, I bow to no one." Megatron hissed mockingly.
As the battle resumed, no one was sure who struck first, but Megatron staggered to one knee, spilling more energon to the black scorched sand as the human dropped from his servo.
Diving as he had so long ago, Bumblebee caught Sam and cradled him close as he aimed again and fired. The shot was true, but missed as Megatron shuddered into his alternate mode and lifted into the sky, screeching a retreat. Unconcerned with anything else, the young Autobot struggled to his pedes. Prime's servo touched his shoulder plate, but that was unimportant as the light faded from the eyes of the only person he would ever love.
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The funeral service was elegant and poignant, filled with immediate family, governmental agents, and aliens from another planet. No one remarked on this, preferring instead to limit conversation to pertinent things and the weather.
Miles was surprised it hadn't rained, that Mikaela was wearing white, and that he'd been asked to give a speech. He broke down in tears halfway through and had to be escorted back to his seat. He kicked the casket once and was satisfied with the display of violence. Miles never felt more guilty about joking that Sam was going to get himself killed, but it did him no good. He couldn't take back his words, swiping tears with the edge of his sleeve as he limped away. Frowning, Ratchet informed Miles that his foot was fractured, but the teen didn't seem to care.
He owed a friend an apology.
A few people cried, Mikaela had forgone makeup for just that reason. The colorless dress she wore stood out amount the mourners, but she didn't care. She had been wearing black so long it that it just had not felt right. She wanted this day to be special, she didn't want to forget. She brought flowers, blue petaled things with small green stems crushed under in her hand as Long Arm's holoform threaded his fingers with her's. Staring ahead, he seemed appropriately subdued, much like the rest of the Cybertronians. They didn't bury their dead, but then, Sam was no more Cybertronian than human anymore.
Somewhere in between, Sam became a unifying force for them all. Lifting her head, Mikaela stared ahead as well, hoping that connection would remain. Long Arm's fingers tightened over hers and she leaned on to him, resting her head on her partner's shoulder.
Sam looked so peaceful and there was nothing more to say.
He was lost too soon, for the second time. It was a hard blow to the Witwicky family, but any victory was worth the sacrifice. Judy seemed to cling to that more than anyone, the fact that her son had died in defense of something so much greater than himself.
She hugged Bumblebee, simply because he still hadn't shed a tear and somehow, that was enough. The officiant, a rather somber Reginald Simmons, offered another prayer and a psalm, something appropriate that no one would remember and he would never admit to saying.
With a whimper, the service was over. Tears began anew, and Ronald Witwicky escorted his wife to bid farewell to their son once more.
In place of extended family, due to the highly secretive nature of the proceedings, the appointed pall bearers were unexpected, but welcome. Close friends to the deceased, those who had been there as he'd passed.
Optimus rose first, followed by his still healing third in command, the team medic and the surly weapons specialist. They slipped to the front of the room as the gathered mourners began to leave.
It was as they feared, but worse in some ways. The fight had ended and so had the young man who once held the promise of life.
And their friendship.
Slowly Bumblebee moved up the aisle, he passed each row, acknowledging no one as he made for the casket. This was the moment he feared, but never expected to come so soon. Touching the still body Bee frowned, angry and heartbroken all at once. It was not supposed to end in such a way. The scout forced himself to accept Sam's death once, how could he even think of doing it again? Skimming his hand against the casket, he simply refused acknowledged this loss.
The table shook as he moved, but Bee's holo continued, curling his fingers over the edge of the wooden box and he drew close to the teen he promised to protect. Stroking the pale cheek, he leaned, pressing his lips against Sam's.
The entire room was silent. Some gaped openly, while others turned away, granting him privacy for his personal farewell. The Autobot, however, only had optics for one. Sam didn't move, but then Bumblebee hadn't expected it. It was a reminder, a curse, the absolutely certainty that he lost his bondmate again. As he pressed his forehead to Sam's, it was only then did he cry.
The slight wobble of the casket stand was painstakingly ignored and Bee kissed Sam again, finally able to speak.
His voice was soft and heartbreaking, his fingers curling in dark hair. His spark ached with such loss, that he couldn't help but be furious.
"You never gave me an answer." Bee growled, clinging to the casket, shutting his eyes as he began to shake. So lost in his own mind, Bumblebee never realized that the parlor's occupants were no longer staring at him.
A silvery glow suffused the room, emanating from the holoform and the space around it, as Sam began to stir. Slowly he lifted a hand to press to Bee's, an easy smile coming to his face.
"Yes." he whispered, eyes fluttering, "If you ask me properly."
In the ensuing panic, Bee leapt to kiss his intended again, overcome with sheer joy. The casket buckled beneath them and toppled, leaving them in an ungainly heap, the fall earning the pair bruises and scrapes, but Bee never let go.
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Standing at the desk, Sam forced a smile and nodded again.
"Yes, thank you. Have a good day."
Waving he stepped back and moved for the doors, his hands disappearing into his pockets. It was a precaution, but one that was ultimately for the best. A chirp echoed from his jeans and he patted the fabric softly.
His phone, Noki was rather adorable; despite the fact he had a habit of prank calling anyone in his contact list. They still had to talk about that, but it was something that could be held off for a bit, especially with recent developments.
Scanning the parking lot, Sam moved for the Camaro with the custom paintjob, a goofy smile crossing his lips. If nothing else, his dedication was astounding, almost overwhelming as things began to settle into a state of normalcy, or what passed for it when ancient alien robots were involved.
Megatron was still on the loose, but Sam really wasn't worried. After what Sam saw in the Decepticon's coding, well, he was beginning to understand the leader a bit more. Megatron was a necessary evil, but one that would be suitably distracted for a time.
Megatron couldn't comprehend yet, but where he sought to destroy, the All Spark had sought to create. Megaton would understand by the end of the year, what he was becoming. What he was now capable of doing. The Decepticon warlord would be angry, but unexpected mothers usually were.
Their war would certainly come to an end or Sam he hoped.
A child to lead and all that-
The driver's side door swung open, but the teen circled the car sliding into the passenger seat instead.
Bee shot him a curious look, but he ignored it buckling himself in, instead.
"Sam?"
"Legally I'm still dead."
"I would have thought-"
"Yeah, well, as quick as Sector Seven's official connections are, they were the ones who submitted my death certificate in the first place."
"I still don't understand your fascination with holding on to that piece of paper." As his passenger fell silent, Bumblebee shifted into gear and eased out of the parking spot.
Settling back into his seat Sam touched the dashboard affectionately.
"It's a reminder, so we don't forget the date."
"I would never forget." Pulling into traffic the look that Bee's holo gave him was indulgent.
"So it looks like I'm stuck as a passenger until I can get back my driver's license." The abrupt statement of fact was superfluous, but the Autobot let it pass, he was becoming used to such things from his boyfriend.
"Is that acceptable?" Bee inquired with a small smile.
Flashing Bumblebee a grin in return, Sam intertwined their fingers and kissed his hand.
"Just so long as you're the one driving."