Bumblebee saw his life-cycle flash through his CPU when he saw the three purple blasts heading his way; he remembered life moving far too slow for his liking and he realized. There was no way to dodge these fatal attacks, no miracle to push him out of the way. The first hit sent so many warnings through his HUD that he didn't have time to decipher them; the second hit forced his frame to shut down and began self repairs. He couldn't feel his grip on the blade loosen and he didn't register the third hit. By that time he was sinking out and in of consciousness and when he hit liquid bellow that he felt regret.

He regretted not being able to see the end of this blasted war, he regretted not being able to tell his secrets from his short life-cycle. He regretted not being able to truly tell how he felt but he suppose he can hope that the other's will enjoy the future for him. With this he offline and sunk into the depths, not hearing the screams of his friends begging for him not to go or the coolant tears that fell from their optics at their latest lost.

He sunk into what felt like the eternal abyss, his frame floating and he couldn't see anything but darkness. Bumblebee was the only light that illuminated the abyss and he couldn't see any other light. Is this what the Well of Sparks looks like? Nothing but darkness and loneness that would drive anyone insane?

Then Bumblebee felt his frame burning as if he experienced an intense heat with no satisfaction, he gasped and lifted his servos and touched his throat. It ached and he screamed when pain shattered through him. It felt like digits are sinking into him throat and tearing out his voice box. But the feeling was like the motion was in reverse, that the sharp digits are carefully placing his voice box back and all the sensitive metal back. Bumblebee wheezed, his digits twitching as he tried to remove the mask that was helping him speak in morse.

It felt uncomfortable against his lips and he sighed in relief as he felt it fall from his face. Bumblebee blinked, his digits shaking, touching the corners of his lips and traced down his throat and he blinked. There weren't any scars from that horrible day. No scars of Megatron's cruelty, the reminder of the day he lost his innocence's.

Then the darkness faded around him and became a blurry image; blinking he looked around, he saw the place where his last moments are slowly replaying. He saw everyone's expressions, his breath hitched at the sight of Optimus crestfallen face. He moved when he came back to the world, the fatal wounds healed and he was given a second chance to prevent the fall of the Autobots. He got out of the water with the sword wearing heavy in his servo.

He pushed the weapon deep into Megatron's spark; a sense of fulfillment rushed through him as he saved his leader's life-cycle and ended the war. The Decepticons retreated and the Autobot's are victorious, he heard everyone cheering and congratulating him but he migrated to Optimus. His spark felt heavy and when he looked up he saw Optimus staring at him, the taller mech walked to him and an unspoken conversation happened between them. Optimus hesitantly touched his helm as if he would shatter under his touch, that this miracle will be whisked away from them.

Bumblebee closed his optics and touched his leader's servo and Optimus moved closer to hug the scout. Optimus silently wept, his grip tightening around the scout.