Russian Roulette

It had to be the hardest thing Sparkplug had ever done in his entire life. He had watched his son rush off into battle with the bravest of the Autobots, taught with worry over whether it would be his son that Ratchet sought to heal. Sparkplug Witwicky had watched his son grow up to a mature man that would someday leave the nest. He had raised him without a mother to the best of his ability, teaching him how to be firm and gentle as well as keeping your heart pure. Spike was a gentleman, and he made his father so proud on so many occasions.

So to see him with a gun to his head was the hardest thing in the world.

"Let him go," Sparkplug said desperately, struggling to be free of the blue hand that gripped him. "Damn you Starscream! Let me go!"

"Silence, human! You had your chance to tell us what you knew about the Autobots; now, watch your son suffer the consequences of your insolence," Starscream snapped, his high-pitched and scratchy voice making Sparkplug wince. Spike, to his father's never ending pride in him, kept a cool exterior. He looked up at his dad calmly. Soundwave stood over him, one finger on the boy's head to produce control over his actions. Sparkplug hated the slagged telepath, and could only hope that his deactivation would be done by him and a trusty wrench.

"Enough of this nonsense," Megatron said acidly from his post by the door. "Soundwave, command the human to spin the bullet chamber, so that this can be over with," the miserable bastard sent a smirk in Sparkplug's direction. "Maybe after you watch you son play with guns you will be more... Forthcoming," he grinned in an eerie manner that reminded Sparkplug of some generic horror movie. "This game of 'Russian Roulette' is a fun one, don't you agree human?"

Sparkplug grated his teeth, wishing now that he hadn't played hide-and-go-seek with his thoughts from Soundwave's snooping; then, maybe, his son just wouldn't be in this situation. He could only watch as Spike, fighting every movement with all he had, spun the bullet chamber and placed the gun right back on his head.

"One last chance, human; tell us where the Autobots are hiding," Starscream said; to Sparkplug, it sounded as if the seeker was yelling in his ear, as it always did. Spike looked at his father, able only to move his eyes; his eyes, the one thing that Sparkplug could read and know that it would always be his son. Spike's eyes said no, even as his mouth opened jerkily and said yes.

Sparkplug exhaled, his shoulders drooping; to Spike, his life wasn't worth the universe, and to him, he was right. Spike was Sparkplug's universe, however, and he... It would kill him to do this, but he guessed he was already dead; he and Spike both.

"I will never tell you where the Autobots are, rusty scum," he said, calling up on his last reserves of bravery and apathy. "Nothing will make me tell you where they are. They are going to save the universe, and that is the only goal of mankind; to bring peace to all."

"You foolish fleshling," Megatron sighed, looking at Soundwave. "Order him to shoot."

Sparkplug was wrong. It wasn't seeing the gun pointed at his son's head that was the hardest thing in his life.

It was the sound.

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A/N: I hope it wasn't too OOC to do make Sparkplug choose what he did, or have Spike act the way he did.