Chapter Text
If asked, Spike would say it only took about a month or so of hanging out with giant alien robots to get used to all the weird. After the first magic time travel cave, made scientist shrink ray and (hopefully last) transfer of his consciousness into a robot body, it didn't feel like there were many more surprises left in the universe.
So it still seemed like a fairly average Tuesday when Bumblebee rolled up, practically bouncing on his wheels with excitement.
"Whoa there Rodeo!" Spike laughed, just about managing to clamber inside. "What's up?"
Bumblebee just barely stopped bouncing as he pulled out into the road.
“Hi Spike!” he chirped. "It was supposed to be a secret so I couldn't tell you or your dad or Carly or Chip or anyone but the pods opened last night and the sparklings are here so we can't hide them anymore anyway! Spike, the sparklings are here!"
"Slow down,” Spike said fondly, “you're going a hundred words an hour! What pod? What's sparkling?"
Bumblebee stopped at a red light and immediately started bouncing again. Spike was glad he didn't get seasick.
" A sparkling Spike – an immature developing Cybertronian proto-spark system!"
"…uh huh?" Spike said weakly. It wasn't usually Bumblebee who hit him with the big sciency words. He’d have to ask Chip for a translation.
"They emerged last night and now they're all over the base,” Bumblebee continued. “You're going to love them, Spike!"
"Sure," Spike said, a little doubtfully. Still, whatever a Sparkling was, it couldn't be any worse or weirder than the things he'd seen so far, and it was making Bumblebee happy so it must be a good thing. They reached the base in record time, Bumblebee pushing the speed limit the whole journey, and by the time they arrived Spike felt almost as excited as his friend.
At least at first.
"What did you say they were again?" he asked slowly.
There were… things in the Ark's main control room.
Squat, spikey, crab-shaped things, all shiny blacks and matte greys, about the size of labradors if labradors had massive metal claws for legs.
They scuttled about like spiders, making horrible little sh-click sh-clack sh-click sh-clack noises wherever they went. They were on the floor, the walls and – Spike shuddered – the ceiling, unnerving sets of luminous white eyes peering out from between the stalactites. The air was filled with a constant mechanical screeching sound, about as pleasant as nails on a chalkboard, and as Spike watched with mounting horror one of the things scurried up Bumblebee’s hood and sat in front of the glass.
Spike stared.
The thing stared back.
It opened its mouth.
It had teeth.
Very long, very thin, very sharp teeth.
It cocked its smooth, insectoid head and mimicked the sound of shrapnel in a blender.
"Sparklings!" Bumblebee said joyfully. "Oh please get out, Spike, you have to meet them!"
Spike didn't have to do anything, thanks.
"Right… Can you try explaining them in more, uh, human words?" he asked, pretty darn calmly in his opinion.
“I already did,” Bumblebee complained, forgoing bouncing for a building vibration that made his engine hum like a – well. “An immature developing Cybertronian proto-spark system! C’mon, Spike, humans make them too! Oh, what’s the English word…”
“We absolutely do not make these,” Spike squeaked, as the thing planted its claws on the windscreen and tried to get inside. But not before Bumblebee’s words started making sense. Sense that Spike did not particularly like. “Wait…”
Immature… developing…
… Sparks…
Before Spike could voice his troubling conclusion, Optimus Prime emerged from deeper inside the base. The infestation of things parted around him, scurrying about to make way for his slow, steady stride, and Spike’s anxiety eased somewhat. If anyone could make sense of this (and keep Spike safe in the process), it was Optimus Prime.
He stopped, optics smiling fondly. “Hello Spike, hello Bumblebee,” he greeted, voice a warm, soothing rumble. “Here to meet the little ones?”
Which… no.
No way.
“These things… are your babies,” Spike said numbly, just as Optimus scooped up the one on Bumblebee’s hood and cradled it tenderly in the crook of his arm.
“Yes, babies! That’s the word!” Bumblebee said happily.
“We call them sparklings,” said Optimus, as the one in his arm parted its horrifying jaws and started chewing on his chassis. “You’re going to love them, Spike!”