The Closing

Spike Witwicky had been asked to do a wide variety of tasks in his young life. Could you check my mail while I'm away? Would you mind picking up some milk on your way home? Do you think you'll have time to help paint my garage next weekend? But never before had he been asked to do something as severe and final as what Optimus Prime had asked of him. In his wildest dream, he never even considered the possibility of it being spoken. There was no "could" or "would" in Prime's statement; it wasn't a request that allowed the option of refusal. "I need you," Optimus smoothly announced, "to destroy the Matrix."

Spike didn't answer at first, hoping he head misheard Optimus Prime and wishing that by ignoring it, the request would fade away. Prime looked down at the human, and noticed the shock behind his eyes. The gentle leader of the heroic Autobots motioned for Spike to follow behind him, making their way to the opening of the Ark. Stopping at a moderately safe distance without actually exiting the ship, Prime directed Spike to look out upon the carnage. After a brief pause, Prime turned his back to the battle and faced Spike. He removed the Matrix from his chest and laid it at Spike's feet.

"If I could do it myself," Optimus explained, "I would. But I cannot, therefore the task falls to you." Spike continued to remain silent, certain that any second he would wake from what had to be a nightmare. In the background, the sounds of war began to lessen. Long pauses in between explosions and minimal laser fire signaled that the battle was coming to a stop. Prime knew the outcome without having to see it for himself. The last few pillars of his army were finally crumbling. He knelt down on one knee and handed Spike a laser-scalpel, which he had grabbed while inside sickbay.

The scalpel was somewhat heavy for the human, but he was able to hold it with both arms wrapped tight around its base. He staggered at first, unprepared for the extra weight, but quickly planted his feet firmly in place. Seconds later, a sudden burst of flames shot out from Optimus Prime's chest; he had been shot from behind. Spike watched in horror as another blast connected, one with such force that it blew off Prime's right arm and shoulder. Optimus struggled to stand up and face his attacker, but the damage was too severe. As Galvatron emerged in the distance, revealing himself to be the assassin, Prime fell over face first and crashed against the floor of the Ark. "Till all... are... one."

"Optimus!" Spike cried out, his voice rich with anger and sorrow. He looked up and saw Galvatron moving closer, his optics locked on the Matrix. Spike's heartbeat kept pace with each step the Decepticon took. He realized he had to act quickly and positioned the laser-scalpel's tip directly at the 'eye' of the Matrix. Setting the power level on the highest mark available, he initiated the stream of energy and ran for cover. Six seconds later, as Galvatron bent over to pick the Matrix up, the device he was inches away from owning, exploded.

A magnificent blue light shot out in all directions, finding each and every remaining Transformer despite their location. The beams penetrated each body, entering through the torso and out the other side. The optics of each affected Transformer shot a similar stream of blue light out in front of them. As quickly as the light had appeared, it was just as quick to dissipate.

Not a single Transformer moved, nor a single word spoken. One by one, they each lost any and all trace of color from their forms. They appeared as gray, lifeless statues, frozen in mid-step. From within, their bodies, now void of any life-giving energy, began to decompose at an accelerated pace. Their faces cracked and turned to dust, carried away by a sudden gust of wind. In time, their bodies would vanish in the same manner; sent to their final resting-place by a constant breeze.

Spike crawled out from his hiding place from within the Ark and stepped outside. He saw massive dents in the earth and could still smell the unforgettable stench of war, but he found no familiar faces. As a light rain began to fall, Spike sat on a nearby rock and stared out across the empty land. Behind him, the Ark faded away, as if it had always been an illusion.

No more Great War... no more Autobots... no more Decepticons... no more Optimus Prime.

No more Transformers.

Present Day...

Joey looked over at his grandpa with heavy eyes. "What happened to the Matrix?" He struggled to stay awake just a little while longer. The boy snuggled deep into his bed and tucked one arm up underneath his cool pillow.

"What happened to it?" Grandpa repeated softly. The way those four words escaped his mouth almost betrayed a secret he had kept for nearly thirty years. His mind became lost in a distant, private memory.

"Grandpa?" Joey asked, in between yawns. "You okay?"

"Some human friends of the Autobots," he continued, returning from his temporary lapse of time, "collected all the pieces of the Matrix, but where it is today... nobody knows." He could see Joey's eyes begin to stick, and casually got to his feet. "Goodnight, Joey," he whispered, as he pulled the covers up tight and kissed him on the forehead. He then turned out the light and closed the door behind him.

Before returning to the den, he paused in front of the hallway closet, and gently opened the door. Making as little noise as possible, he reached for a box stored on the top shelf, well hidden beneath a pile of old work clothes and a yellow hard hat. The box was much heavier than its size implied.

He took the box down and carried it with him as he headed towards his favorite chair, then turned on the pea-green lamp located to his left. His fingers stumbled as he removed the lid, and his eyes filled with tears as the memories overtook him.

It was a unique object, constructed not by human hands. A silvery, metallic sphere comprised the center, with golden handle-like grips on both sides. In days gone by, a bright blue energy, or "spark", illuminated the object from within its eye. But now the only light to be found came from an old lamp next to a dusty chair. "To light our darkest hour," Spike Witwicky whispered. "Now, all are one."

The End of The Closing of the Book

A/N: Well, there it is... the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who took time to read the story and for all the feedback! Let me know what you think... ((Big thank-you to Alaskan Olive for beta-ing this chapter...))