AN: The aftermath of 'The Ultimate Doom' pt 3.
Entering the 'human quarters' of the Ark, Spike was witness to his father sitting in an easy chair and stared moodily into a cup of coffee.
"Dad? Are you okay?"
"How did you do it Spike?" He asked, out of the blue with a troubled expression.
"Do what?" Spike asked as he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a can of soda.
"Forgive me for hitting you hard enough to send you to the floor. For betraying you, turning my back on you." The silence following was broken only by the sound of the can being opened and Spike's somewhat aggrieved sigh.
"Is that all? Dad, there's nothing to forgive. You were under Dr. Arkeville's control, technically that wasn't you." He plopped onto the soft cushion of the couch and watched his father's face. Instead of relief, Sparkplug's brow furrowed even deeper.
"What if ... what if I'd been drunk? Would you still forgive me?" Sparkplug still hadn't met Spike's eyes, thus he missed the confused look.
"Dad, you don't drink. Even when you did, you never got drunk enough to hit someone."
"Please, this is important. If I was absolutely hammered, not mind-controlled by a maniac working for Megatron, and had still hit you, could you forgive me?" Now his eyes met those of his baffled son, allowing Spike to see the desperate need for answers, for the god-honest truth no matter how harsh it was. Spike swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing.
"I guess it'd be different, because you chose to drink that much; to take away everything that tells you when something is wrong. I would forgive you though, because you're my dad and you'd also choose never to drink like that again." Spike answered bluntly and was rewarded with seeing the stress melt off his fathers' face. Finally smiling, Sparkplug stood up and ruffled Spike's hair.
"You're wise beyond your years kid. That's your mother's influence. Thanks." Sparkplug grinned.
Ribstickers was still standing, but taped to the inside of the window were notices from the fire department and the City Building Inspector declaring the building unstable and unsafe for habitation.
"Fixin' this's gonna break me." Sarah muttered as the young auburn-haired child in her arms turned his head and stuck his fingers in his mouth. The very large dog at her side looked up and whined. She turned her gaze skyward, to where the planet Cybertron had, until recently, loomed. "Nothin' but trouble, those decepti ...somethin'." Came the irritated grumble. "Thank the Lord for givin' us good neighbours willin' t'put us up 'till the place is fixed." She shook her head and the three of them walked down a sidestreet. A few houses down the child in her arms began to fuss.
"Mama wan' down!" A pause. "Pwease?"
"That's my boy. Allus say 'please' an' 'thank you'."
She put the boy down "T'ank oo mama." but still kept hold of his hand until they were at the door of a simple two-story house and rang the bell.