When he and Optimus left Earth, he tried to put Sam and Mikaela and their children out of his mind. It didn't work (it never did), but he hadn't really expected - or really wanted - it to. The cold vastness of space seemed to place itself in stark contrast to the constant noise and bustle of Earth, a silent vacuum that did nothing to remind him of his boy and his family. For that, he was grateful.

Optimus did not try to make conversation beyond the occasional adjustment to their coordinates. For this, Bumblebee was also grateful. The level of understanding his commander had for his emotions, as turbulent as they were, spoke volumes of how much the larger Autobot had cared for Sam as well. While Optimus and Sam had never been as close as Bumblebee had been to him, the boy had saved Prime's life. Optimus would never forget that, would never forget Sam's bravery, would not let himself cycle his gratitude through his memory processor.

The energy source was light years away. Even at their advanced speed, they were only halfway there and still had twenty Earth-years of travel time to go.

He thought, sadly, that Sam's children would be gone by the time they returned to Earth. It was a testament to how a part of the family he had been, that he was unable to detach himself from the Earth standard of time.

Together, they passed suns and planets and a still, vast, never-ending sea of stars. The years ticked by, years that once did not matter to him, but now they meant lost time. Lost time with his remaining family. He would not be there for their children. He would not be there for their funerals. These thoughts made him sad, but he also considered thanking Optimus for drawing him away from these events. They would have overwhelmed him and reminded him again that his boy was no longer with him.

One year remained. Optimus was starting to scan the starfield around them, checking the plasma for signs of interference from the mysterious energy source. They neared an asteroid cluster.

It was here.

As sure as he had been about his love for Sam, he was sure that the Allspark was here. His sensors were going haywire, screaming readouts of power, of energy, of home. "Optimus--"

"I know, Bumblebee." His commander touched down on the largest of the asteroids, Bumblebee right behind him. His voice was soft, the Cybertronian language sounding more like a prayer than it ever had before. "I know, but I do not understand." They moved in unison towards the energy source - the Allspark? - across the huge asteroid.

Towering over them, it glinted dully in the faded light of a far-off star. Both he and Optimus were silent for a great while, staring at it. Finally, Optimus spoke again. "This is not the Allspark."

"But--"

"...and yet, it is." Perplexed silence from Bumblebee, contemplative silence from Optimus. The large Autobot reached out to the cube, electricity sparking between his fingertips and the smooth surface. Explanations were being sought and given. "I see. It seems as though in my haste to get it away from Megatron, the Allspark was... damaged. Your human once told me of the things he had seen the Spark's energy do - that it had made violent, aggressive creatures that reminded him of Decepticons. It seems as though that when it split, the half that was carried to Earth was the result of the cube being held by Megatron. Dark, negative energy... that was still, nonetheless, a part of the Allspark."

Finally, Optimus let his hands come into full contact with the cube, and Bumblebee found himself an outside observer to something he had experienced before. The Allspark quivered and shrank in upon itself, the impossibly large, imposing power source becoming an innocuous block that fit neatly into Optimus Prime's palm.

He was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn't notice the faint distress crackle that came from behind where the huge cube had been seated. Almost. "Optimus! That... did you receive that too? There's a Cybertronian here!"

Optimus was motionless, fingers half-curled around the cube and optics trained to the source of the weak distress signal. "Not quite. That was a protoform's signal. One that the Allspark probably created here, far away from Cybertron."

Indeed, covered in a thin layer of dust from the asteroid, they found a protoform, supine on the dirt. It was a good meter smaller than Bumblebee, and not moving. It had probably been forced into stasis immediately after birth, given the lack of Autobots to guide it through its first transformation. Bumblebee crouched over it, running a hasty diagnostic. "It's functioning." he reported, reaching one hand out to the being's chestplate, directly over its spark. He let a jolt of energy flow from him into the young one's frame, a gentle system shock designed to wake it up.

Blue optics flared to life, the form's infrastructure trembling with the new energy. The optics met his, brightening and focusing on him sharply.

"Bumblebee?"

That--

That was Sam's voice.

Distorted and weak, but still his. Bumblebee jerked back, a sudden rush of pain coming over him as his memories broke free, unbidden. The protoform - Sam? no, it couldn't be him, please let it be him - reached up to him and closed his fingers around the yellow Autobot's.

"It called out to me as I was dying, Bee." Those optics, though as far away from resembling Sam's human eyes as they could be, burned into him as surely as the boy's had. "I knew it was my only chance to see you again."

("Bumblebee, you know... I wish I could be with you forever." It had been spoken quietly into the night, and so softly that he had thought he'd misheard.)

Suddenly Bumblebee wished he could cry as he had seen humans do so many times. It seemed like such a cathartic release for them, the water that gave them life rushing from their eyes. Maybe if he could cry he wouldn't feel so full. Maybe he'd be able to say something, instead of just staring in shocked silence at Sam - who had suddenly, wonderfully returned to him.

Optimus finally broke the silence. "It was your contact with the other Allspark as it was destroyed that connected you to this one."

Reluctantly, Sam tore his gaze (shockingly blue instead of the warm brown that was forever branded into Bumblebee's memory) away from his friend, nodding at Optimus. "Apparently. I... never really questioned it." He shifted, still clinging to Bumblebee's hand, and forced himself to sit up.

As though finding his vocal processors for the first time, Bumblebee choked out, "Sam, I--you--"

Sam (it was Sam, it really really was him) looked back at him, fingers tightening their grip. "Yeah, it's me, Bee. You didn't think I'd leave you if I had a choice, did you?"

The happiness was overwhelming, so much so that it washed over any lingering confusion or doubt. The spark inside him seemed to swell and reach out to Sam's, just so he could feel the other, so hot and so bright and so very, very alive.

"Let's go home." Optimus reached down and took Sam's other hand, and together they stood. Whether Optimus had more questions or not, he stayed quiet. He understood that Bumblebee needed this time with his human-turned-Autobot.

They turned towards the edge of the asteroid, Prime holding the recovered Allspark, Bumblebee and Sam holding on to each other. Returning to Earth would be difficult for all of them, Sam especially. He would have to cope with the lack of Mikaela, the loss of his children. Despite this, Bumblebee could not fight the feeling that everything would be alright.

His boy had returned to him. Even regaining the Allspark paled in comparison. His far-off memories of Sam the human curled timidly smaller, hiding in the far corner of his mind, making room for the new memories he would create with the one he loved so dearly.

Together (always, forever together), they made their way home.

-End.

For real this time! ...I think. ;D