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Sam hadn’t wanted to lie to them about who—or rather what—he was. It had been a coincidence that their paths had crossed at all. He lived with his parents, who knew everything about him. Sometimes they called him their little Superman, other times Kraken. Either way, they were his family. His parents, even if not by blood. And that had always been enough for him.
When Bumblebee said he wanted to stay with him, Sam knew his time was up. They had trusted him with their secrets and their war, and he had almost ruined everything.
Optimus Prime and the other Autobots had been taken to an abandoned base not too far from Tranquility after the fight. They had even bowed to him after he killed Megatron. Jazz’s body lay in the hangar, and Sam saw how devastated they were about losing him. He felt worse just looking at the gray, lifeless frame. Maybe he could have prevented his death, if he had been honest from the beginning.
“Can I talk with you?” Sam asked in a shaky voice as he looked up at the Cybertronians. Their imposing presence made him feel small, vulnerable. Was it possible they would kill him?
“Of course,” said the leader, and his kind optics felt like knives to Sam’s heart. The others turned toward him as well, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“I have to tell you something,” Sam began, immediately gaining their full attention. They must have noticed his nervousness, his fear. “But before that, could you promise me something?” he asked, waiting for Optimus’s response. Bumblebee kneeled beside him and reached out to comfort him, but Sam flinched away.
“If it is a promise I can make, I will,” Optimus answered, and Sam nodded.
“Whatever I say in the next few minutes, please don’t hurt me or my family.” He met Optimus’s optics with a determined look. Ratchet and Ironhide looked just as shocked as their leader, but Bumblebee simply reached out and patted his head.
“We would never hurt you,” Bumblebee said, and it did comfort Sam—just a little.
“You killed Megatron. I thought you wouldn’t be scared of our kind,” Ironhide shrugged.
“Ironhide, humans work through trauma differently,” Ratchet snapped, irritated.
“Samuel, I promise that whatever you say, we won’t harm you or any other human,” Optimus said with a faint smile.
“Swear on Primus,” Sam insisted.
Optimus’s optics narrowed slightly as he considered it. Sam knew the Prime’s moral code was strong, but he also knew they weren’t naïve. Optimus must have noticed that Sam had never heard them invoke Primus’s name before.
“I swear on Primus that whatever you say, we won’t cause you or any human harm,” Optimus finally said.
Sam heard the loopholes—but accepted it anyway.
“Okay…” He looked at all of them. “I helped you, and I’d like to keep helping you—if you’ll let me.”
Ironhide snorted.
“You’re just a kid. You should stay in school.”
“That’s not the point,” Sam said quickly. “What I mean is—I have the resources to be an asset, because—”
“You’re cute.”
Ratchet finally lost patience and smacked Ironhide on the helm. Bumblebee chirped in annoyance.
“Autobots,” Optimus said firmly, “we will hear Samuel out. Without interruption.”
They all quieted.
“Thank you,” Sam said, embarrassed. “Like I said… I’m powerful. I helped you. I love Earth, and I want to stay here. If the cost of that is fighting on your side, then so be it.” His words tumbled out faster the longer he spoke, like he was afraid he might lose the courage to continue.
“I lied to you. Well—not lied. I just didn’t tell you everything. Cybertronian history is… messy. The AllSpark made things worse.” He looked up, and Optimus regarded him like a ticking bomb. “I know about the war with the Quintessons—and how it ended.”
Ratchet’s vents flared in agitation, but Optimus raised a servo, silencing him.
“I only learned one side of the story,” Sam continued. “And let’s be honest—that side was probably complete nonsense, since it came from the Quintessons.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep going despite the tension building around him.
“They always lie—or leave things out. But that’s not why I didn’t tell you. They said I was born with a defect, which means I just wanted a normal life. A normal family. My parents accepted me, even though we’re not related. And I never hurt anyone. I never used my powers to influence anyone. I just wanted peace—far away from space politics and alien wars.”
His breath came in short bursts. His hands shook as he gestured wildly. The Autobots stared at him in confusion.
“Please,” he said, gripping his hair. “Don’t make me leave Earth.”
“What are you trying to say?” Optimus asked quietly. The only sign of his unease was the faint shifting of his panels.
Sam took a deep breath and stepped back.
“I am an unofficial Quintesson judge.”
The reaction was immediate.
Optimus’s battle mask snapped into place. Ironhide’s arm transformed into a cannon. Ratchet drew a weapon seemingly from nowhere. Bumblebee stepped back—but said nothing.
The hangar fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the hum of Ironhide’s weapon.
Sam waited.
He didn’t know if they would kill him or exile him—but the looks of betrayal hurt more than anything they could do.
“Please… say something,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes. He stared at the ground, unable to look up. He braced himself for a strike—but it never came.
“The war with the Quintessons was a long time ago,” Optimus said at last, his voice tired. Ratchet muttered something under his breath.
“Times changed. Are you willing to show me your memories?” Optimus asked.
Sam’s head snapped up.
“Yes!”
He transformed, revealing his true form. Sam’s body shifted, metal flowing like liquid over skin as his true form emerged—his upper body still unmistakably human, but forged from smooth, transformer-like metal, while below the waist his form split into several sleek, articulated tentacles that didn’t reach the ground. He levitated above it.
He was only slightly taller than an average human, but in that moment, he felt larger—alien, undeniable, impossible to ignore.
He expected disgust—but saw none. He waited for Optimus to connect to him, but instead, Ratchet moved silently behind him and initiated the link.
Sam forced down every instinct to resist. He let Ratchet see everything.
The cruelty of the Quintesson world. The rigid hierarchy. His hatred of what he was. His escape. The long centuries drifting through space. His slumber on earth for decades and the moment a young couple found him—and how he became Samuel James Witwicky.
And finally—the truth he feared most.
How he manipulated events and hidden his true self, how he had killed Megatron. And how much he had come to care about the Autobots in that short time he knew them.
The connection severed abruptly, sending pain through his exposed mind. His tentacles spread to support him as his strength failed.
A pair of servos caught him.
Sam opened his eyes, and Bumblebee looked back with quiet understanding.
Optimus’s mask retracted. Ratchet must have already shared the data of what he had found in his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.
“I would be a hypocrite to condemn you for being born into chaos,” Optimus said. “You showed us your memories without hiding anything. You proved something I once thought impossible. Quintessons can change.” The big bot hummed. “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.” He paused. “I accept you.”
Sam collapsed against Bumblebee, hugging him tightly. The warm metal comforting him in his vulnerable moment.
“Thank you!” he cried, shifting back into his human form.
“You could have helped us,” Ironhide burst out. “Maybe Jazz would still be alive.”
Anger rolled off the weapon specialist and Sam stiffened. Then something clicked.
“Yes—wait!” He jumped down and ran to Jazz’s body. “I didn’t use the AllSpark to kill Megatron. I used my own power—and stored the cube in a pocket dimension.”
He made a pulling motion, and the AllSpark appeared in his hand. Full and without a scratch.
“I can use it to bring him back. If his spark wants to return.” Sam held the cube out to the Autobot leader.
Optimus raised a brow ridge. The panels on his mouth twitching upwards.
“Please tell me that’s your last surprise,” Ratchet said, exhausted.
Sam hesitated.
“…I think so.” Then he froze. “Oh. Wait.” His expression shifted into something almost sheepish. “I found this when I was ten in my human years, in Egypt.” He pulled out a twisted piece of Cybertronian metal glowing faintly blue. “I figured it was important.”
He floated it toward Optimus, who reached for it covetely and let the artifact fuse into the his opening chest with his spark. Optimus went completely still.
“Is that what I think it is?” Ratchet asked overwhelmed. He was between scanning Sam or Optimus. In the end his optics focused on his leader and he did a double take. “I have never seen you speechless,” Ratchet said to Optimus. The leader made a gesture and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Do you have anything else?” Optimus asked, sounding like a very tired father.
“No!” Sam said quickly. “I found it accidentally!”
Optimus trembled slightly. Sam tensed—until he heard it. A chuckle. The laughter didn’t come all at once—it started small, almost uncertain, before growing into something real. It echoed through the hangar, bouncing off cold metal walls.
Optimus Prime… was laughing.
Sam glanced at Bumblebee, who shrugged. The yellow bot stayed close to him, one servo hovering near him like a silent guard. Not of protection—but of presence.
Optimus watched him, no longer as a potential enemy, but as something far more complicated—and far more important.
Not just an ally. Not just a survivor. But someone who had chosen his own path despite everything he was born into.
For the first time since everything began, Sam felt like he could finally breathe again.