Sam bit back another flinch and bit his glossa from emitting another curse in his mother tongue. Honestly, how was he supposed to transport all these books with no form of a cart or transportation? True, all the other bots seemed perfectly fine and capable of transporting by hand through pure muscle (whatever form of energy they expended) and hard labor, but Sam simple could not reenact their own prowess resulting in his humble (humiliating) defeat against boxes.

Boxes of books.

Yes, Sam could literally hear the sound of his pride and dignity sputtering down the drain. As if he had already lost enough from his constant babbling in his native tongue (clearly not yet understood here on Cybertron) resulting in dismissive and somewhat weary glances inhibited by his co-workers much to Sam's embarrassment.

He had often heard them whisper among themselves in the halls of his odd behavior and glitching communication. One even had the guts (Wiring? Or was it cables?) to mockingly grab Sam's smaller helm with his large servos and tauntingly ask him if his creators had dumped him on the head from the scrutiny of his face alone leading to a damaged processor.

No, his parents did not, thank you very much. If anything, Mrs. Witwicky would have been far more likely to accidentally hit him with a bat than to mundanely drop him on the ground.

But still, the encounter had hurt, and it had only further reminded Sam of everything that he had lost coming here to Cybertron. The impending doom he felt, and the infinite loneliness that quelled his spark. Although the slight reminder of Trent was comforting with some familiarity if not amusing at best.

So why was he here you ask? Simple, he did not know why. Or to be truthful, he knew why, but for the life of him, he could not understand why. Why him? Of all the people in the world to choose from, why would the allspark choose him? Didn't that dang cube know how many tests he failed back on Earth when he was human? What could possibly possess the thing to think he could pass a Cybertronian test much less graduate (which he eventually did)?

Okay, still not making sense? Let's start again.

Sam Witwicky was once a human that saved the world (just Earth but he liked to include the universe in that little memento) for at least a year (maybe less, okay it was definitely less) before the Decipticons completely destroyed it in a matter of days. Optimus had died, and really, everything had only spiraled down hill from there.

Sam could still feel the Allspark's emotions, so deeply embedded into his own that he could no longer decipher the two. The death, as tragic as it was, had shaken the Allspark to the core (literally), and through the screaming agony of having lost its own child, it had demanded that Sam return to the past to cement a brighter future that he would not live to see.

Selfish cube.

It had pulled him through an endless cycle of life and death, remembering and forgetting, forged its way all for the purpose of securing its brethren and the children it so dearly created. Purposefully forcing Sam into the pain of rebirth in a world he would never had known existed had he lived a normal, human life.

If only he hadn't gotten into that car. Wait no, that's Mikaela's line. He was far too involved way beyond his first meeting with Bumblebee. If only he hadn't found those glasses. There, better, but wait. What if he was still involved even after that? If only his great grandfather never found Megatron. But then Earth would still be in peril (found by some other poor chum) which could eventually lead back to Sam's own destruction. If only the Allspark had never landed on Earth. But even then, that would mean war was still brewing back on Cybertron, the cube landing somewhere else, and an eventual war that could lead to the destruction of Earth, ergo the destruction of Samuel James Witwicky.

Heck, screw it all. If he's going to curse something he might as well curse the whole race for ever existing and dragging him, of all things, into it. But in the end, Sam had befriended so many, lived and fought, bled and cried, and trudged through the agonizing pain far too many times to ever say he regretted any of it.

So really, all it came down to was the Allspark. Because there was no way he would blame himself before at least attempting to blame someone (something?) else, and that, sadly, befell on the Allspark.

Okay, enough dawdling, back to the story at hand.

The Allspark never died, it simple could not. Left with no choice, it had absorbed its way into the vessel of Sam where it remained dormant, weakened through its state of slumber, and just as quickly, reawakened through the destruction of its own creations. Shaken out of its eternal rest, the Allspark had thundered with rage and sadness over the loss of its children and with obvious intent, sent Sam to the past to redo the wrongdoings, to preserve its race, and to pave way to a brighter future.

And did it ask him for his own opinion? Bloody hell no. Would he have said yes anyway? Begrudgingly, after ten years of cursing the damn thing, Sam admits yes.

But, regardless, Sam was in it now and he had no choice but to comply. It was his task, and his regrettable duty. He had been reborn on Cybertron, housed as an orphan, trained and schooled before he could be interned at the Iacon Hall of Records, and even then, he had yet to be fully accepted within the high standards of the working monitors that had been blessed with such jobs from the beginning of their arrival of the Allspark, raised to such perfections, it flustered Sam.

"Ante, are you alright?" a voice called out through the hallways and echoed dully, resonating among the largely expanded corridors.

Ante Finem, that was the designation he now went by, and it took him far too long to get used to it. Regardless, Sam looked up, tilting his helm slightly in recognition and acknowledgment as Orion Pax strode forward. The mech easily towering over Sam's smaller frame and casting a large shadow that obscured the ceiling lights from Sam's view.

It had first been a hefty relief the first time Sam had seen Orion Pax, yet within seconds of the realization came the unyielding pain of another reminder of Sam's duty. Optimus Prime mustn't die; the world depended on it. Although he appeared the same as Sam had always remembered, he was now far less bulky with the loss of armor, weapons, and cannons that he had acquired throughout the war. But he was still noticeably the same, the exact same, and that pained Sam.

"Orion," Sam called out in greeting as he straitened (although it just made him look more pathetic) next to the taller mech. Currently a monitor of the Data Caste in the Hall of Records and the personal apprentice of Alpha Trion, a high honor to bestow, Orion was preoccupied with his job of overseeing the constant waves of transmissions that made its way across the communication grid. It seemed like an endless, un-thankful job, yet the other took it with great stride, obviously content with his life.

"Are you having difficulties?" Orion asked again when Sam provided no further greeting or answer which caused the latter to immediately glare with a slight flinch and a quiet yet admitted yes. It was not his fault, truly. His human body, significantly smaller than that of a Cybertronian, was tremendously smaller when the Allspark had resurrected him, new spark and all, into the form of a bot and thus, his height and strengths were futile in comparison to others such as Orion. In addition, Sam's mind, linked in a peculiar way to his muscles, was now severed from its usual way of thinking resulting in the slow reaction time and the deterioration of his own cables. Each walk he took was painstakingly calculated least he fell, and worse, each step was bizarrely painful, his mind not yet able to adapt to the changes of a Cybertronian body.

The strain on his mind was perplexing at the least and he feared it was slowly killing him. His new metal body simply could not keep up with the others and the effort was wearing him thin, yet all the other interns had gladly left him alone to haul seven crates of newly shipped books to the upstairs library for storage as they departed for the lunar cycle. It seemed that Sam was once again the victim of teenage bullying.

Orion, however, had quickly befriended Sam and had attempted to dissuade as many bullies as he could or noticed. The keyword being attempted as Sam had still fallen prey to the hazardous pranks of his oppressors whenever they were presented with the opportunity. One such trick being now.

"It is already dark," Orion commented which caused Sam's optics to shutter in annoyance while propelling air out of his vents. "I'm afraid I did not notice," he sighed, utterly vexed. "I'll retire after I get these boxes upstairs."

Orion frowned, or as much as a robotic face could although Sam had come to long since recognized the familiar squint of the other's optics along with the disapproving downward twitch of his lips. His eyes holding obvious pity that only further frustrated Sam. "Do you acquire any assistance?" Orion asked again politely because the last time he had tried to help Sam without a positive confirmation of yes, had resulted in the other graciously attempting to smack the folders out of Orion's hand. The result was rather amusing (to anyone other than Sam and Orion).

Sam had been in agony for the rest of his shift as pain resonated from his servos (much to his embarrassment), and Orion, who remained unfazed by the encounter, spent the next joor profusely apologizing and attempting to make up for the incident by doing everything which only further annoyed Sam.

Was Optimus Prime always such a goody two shoes? Worse, is this supposed to be the savior of not only Cybertron but also Earth as well?

Sam only nodded his helm in response and waved at Orion to grab one of the boxes which the other easily and willingly complied with little to no effort. In fact, he grabbed two boxes, stacked precariously upon one another, and then started heading up the hallway towards the elevator next to the stair well that no bot used for the mere inconvenience of walking so many steps; that and Sam was physically incapable of such feats.

Sam followed closely behind while directing Orion where to go. After reaching the third floor, hauling the boxes another two hallways down, and then dropping them off in the middle of one of the great archive rooms, Sam and Orion continued their trek back down using the same route until all seven crates were completed. It was tiring, and Sam wasn't even the one carrying the boxes!

The two finally finished the tireless route and relaxed on one of the large benches that sat at the end of the hallway leading to an open room with a ceiling of glass. The seating purposefully placed for visitors to gaze at the stars in wonderment.

Indeed, the sky was beautiful, but it was not the sky Sam had become so familiar with. The vast open space containing a similar ethereal beauty yet appearing so different. There was no North star, no Ursa Major to gaze at, and certainly no Earth.

"Thanks for helping me," Sam spoke quietly, still slightly embarrassed. Orion, long used to this, smiled happily and quickly explained that he was more than glad to help which only caused Sam further grief at having to take advantage of the other. Although both were busy with their work, they had, somehow, found a way to evolve into a friendship that often resulted in Orion seeking Sam out during the end of the sol so the two could talk and star gaze, something both seemed to enjoy.

Their conversations varied deeply between each night and Sam quickly grew fond of their inquiry. The two often asking each other questions, answering each other, and then debating between opposing ideas or simple agreeing with one another. Tonight, however, there was little time to converse as the halls quickly diminished into the lowly silence, the other workers turning in for a long well deserved rest before the next sol, and Sam didn't dare keep Orion any longer.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you back?" Orion asked again, mostly due to his fear of Sam facing bullies alone, which only prompted Sam to quickly shake his helm and discourage the other from any more attempts of asking. "I can walk perfectly fine," Sam replied although there was no heat behind his words (because, really, he was not fine). The truth simply was that he didn't wish for Orion to see him walking when his exhaustion had settled in and his body's sluggish movements revolted ten fold in protest often resulting in his knees firmly connected to the tile flooring or, worse, his face planted to the ground.

Added with the fact that he would not go to sleep for another cycle.

Sam hated having to shut down by the end of each sol, and the whole process itself always left him struggling and mentally preparing for the onslaught of nightmares that invaded his sleep each night. The pains of his new body, the fear of a formidable future, and the constant loneliness had steadily chipped away at his inner mind until the nightmare plague, something he had originally thought impossible in a robotic body, had purged his system leaving him awake deep within the lunar cycle and left to stare mournfully at the tiled walls for cycles on end.

He was afraid, terribly afraid, and as much as he tried to convince his mind otherwise, he could not stop it; that undeniable fear. Even so, he could not turn to any other bot. It was his burden alone and he refused, absolutely refused, to allow Orion to help (partially because of his own pride and also because the other already had the weight of the universe planted on his shoulders). So even as night descended upon the planet of Cybertron and Orion waved him a final good-bye, Sam could feel the weight of his own burden once again burrowing into his chasis, and if he had a heart, he almost would have said it hurt.

AN- This is my first Transformers fic and I admit, I'm not very well versed in the background of Cybertron, so a lot of what I write will be referenced from wiki. Now an explanation for Sam's name, Ante Finem is supposed to be Latin for 'before the end', but that's just what google has been telling me. I'm not sure how far I'm willing to go with this fic, but all reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading!