A/N: Weeeeell now, look who's writing again for the first time in forever? I've already put this up on Livejournal, and no one there killed me for it, so I decided it was time to post here once again and try it out.

Last month, I went and saw the new Transformers movie. Saw it, LOVED it, (seen it several times since,) fell in love with Bumblebee and Sam and near every 'BOT AND 'CON IN THE DAMN MOVIE...and was consequently consumed by it and its long-established fandom. Apparently, the movie, the amazing fandom, (and the fact that I've been stuck, out of town, without an internet connection for most of the summer,) was the prod I needed to get back into fic writing. Yay, me.

I haven't written in while, and due to the POV, there is comma and semicolon abuse ahead. So ye have been warned.

SO. This drabble thing was inspired by subsequent conversations about the movie on numerious LJ communites, and the idea of what might happen after the Allspark was 'destroyed'.

Basically, if you can't figure out what's happening, blame the Allspark. It all comes down to the Allspark. ...Duh.

HOKAY, here we go. Concrit, plz.

Fandom 'Verse: post-2007movieverse. Drabble/ficlet oneshot. (Angst-HO!)
Rating: Pg-13/Teen for mentions/insinuations of robo spark-sexings and such. (NO sticky-fic!) If the idea of two mechs briefly getting it on squicks you, don't read.
Word count
: 1276, according to Word.
Pairing(s): ...Implied but not implicitly stated. Figure it out yourself.
Disclaimer: Hasbro owns the toys. Hasbro and Dreamworks/Paramount/whoever owns that bad-ass movie. Not me. I only own several of the toys that I bought with my own pitiful earnings. Unfortunately, I'm not making any money off of this. This was done for my own amusment. Enjoy.


He had seen a great many things in his long lifetime. Even before his life had been long; before he'd lived even a fraction of a vorn, he'd seen many things for a creature that young. Seen the first alien race his species had known. Witnessed a clash of epic proportions between two factions of the same species, a battle over a power that, even with the time that had passed since, and the things he'd seen afterwards, had yet to be matched.

He'd been witness to many things, many peoples, many worlds; all over a great many years. But nothing, nothing, he was sure, could or would ever compare to what he knew he would see at the end of his current journey through the vast darkness of space. The trip, even in their ridiculously fast transport ship, would take time. Too much time; too much time for him to think, to agonize over what he knew would be there, waiting for them at the end of the long voyage. To compare it to all of the other things he'd seen; to feel like he should have done more, done something, known it was coming; to know that it was ultimately inevitable. …And to remember.

Some of the things he had seen in the past had been good, glorious even. Some, he wished he could wipe from his memory banks forever, they burned at his mind so. But this…he would never see a thing such as this ever again – and he wished he didn't have to see it at all…

Time had passed slowly at first, when he was still so new to life; still uncomprehending towards a greater concept of time. Like time creeping by in a stuffy classroom, when there are only a few minutes until final bell, but those few minutes seem like an eternity dropping down, one grain at a time before freedom. But, gradually, time began to slip by, like it inevitably does when you take no notice of it, or get too used to it, or are having fun, enjoying yourself... "Time flies when you're having fun," means a lot more when you're essentially immortal.

Months creep by like weeks, days; years go past so quickly, that when you look back and realize just how long it's actually been, you're surprised to speechlessness, head and processors spinning with the realization that you've somehow lived twice as long as you should have; ten times longer; more than you care to count… That the parents who gave birth to you, raised you, the friends you grew up with, the house you grew up in are nothing more then dust and fragments ground into the soil of a planet you have long since left behind…

It had been a very long time since he'd been back there... A very long time, no matter what species you were.

It'd been so many ages, in fact, that he'd long ago begun to forget what it had been like before. He'd begun to forget what he was like before… All he felt like he could remember now were fading sensations… The touch of carbon-based skin on skin; a moist mouth as opposed to a metallic one; hunger or nervousness or pleasure swirling away in a stomach; the cramp of over-exerted muscles; the warmth of his own skin, the heat between his own thighs; the simple pleasure of a hug from an organic creature melding against his own biological form, without the fear of crushing the seemingly frail creature with his own metallic strength…

Sensations that burned away still in his dreams; the dreams, at least, he was sure were the same. Oh, not the contents, of course; no human had ever dreamed of the alien worlds he'd been to; the wondrous species and places he'd seen; the horrific battles and monstrous life forms and atrocities committed across the stars that humans would have been hard put to emulate or even to comprehend.

No, not the content, but the…human-ish nature of the dreams. The randomocity. The psychological depth a seemingly simple image or memory could carry…The twists and turns a biological mind could make, turning against itself and forming nightmares, or the deepest desires of the id prancing about in front of the minds eye in all their raw, naked glory. The sheer insanity and lack of order of a biological mind. Of course, that was the same. Transformers dreamed, but just not like humans – nor other organic creatures, for that matter.

His dreams always reminded him of what he once was; made sure he would never forget completely.

Despite the fact that he was forgetting, he would not wish it back in exchange for what he had gained. Never. The body of a biomechanical organism had its own joys and thrills…and pleasures. The feel of fingers, much larger by themselves than his own head, running gently down a still-sensitive spine; the surprising thrill of changing shape, rushing across the strata of another world on wheels or through alien skies on propulsion engines. His own hands, now several times stronger than those of any human that ever existed before or since, slipping in between thick armor plating, stroking hidden pleasure receptors more deftly, delving more deeply then any full-sized cybertronian could ever hope to achieve; drawing out startling, metallic cries that were surprisingly arousing in any form… The raw pleasure that came from joining the bright, pulsing sparks in their chests, the sparks that kept them alive, that connected them in a way that human lovers could only dream of; overloading all systems with the pleasure and emotions of both, the feeling ricocheting back and forth until neither could bare it any longer…

No, he would never give it up; change the past. But that didn't stop him from wondering what all he had forgotten. What he may have lost in exchange for what he had gained.

He had a new home now; just like the Autobots had claimed earth as their home for some time, and bonded with the planet and its people – he had done the same with his new world. And Cybertron was his home now, because the changes that he loved so much, and would trade nothing in the galaxy for, where what separated him from his birth species forever. He no longer fit in with what he once was.

But it didn't break the connection he still had with his former people. The connection that he still had with a world he was finally returning to, after eons away.

The change didn't stop him, in the end, when the message came.

He, and all of the surviving Autobots that had stayed there, on earth, joined him in one last journey back to the world of his birth. He'd only hoped for Bumblebee, at least, to accompany him, but had been more then pleased when the others had come as well. They would have come whether he was going or not; it had been their home as well.

But he had to go. Even if he hadn't wanted to go, he would have gone.

Because he had to. He knew he had to. And as he stood on the bridge of their transport ship, the bright, burning light coming from the world of his birth and rebirth reflecting off their optics and armor, he knew he had to stay and see this for himself.

Because, even if what he was before was no more, he had still been human, once; at one time…

And Sam Witwicky felt that the last human alive should be there to witness the end.