Disclaimer: do not own Transformers.

Summary: Movieverse AU. The Autobots are searching for the Allspark, but they find themselves in need of aid from one Samuel James Simmons, whose Uncle Reggie would be all too delighted at the prospect of experimenting on—er, greeting—these guests. So now Sam has two problems: he needs to hide his little friend from his family, and her own.

Me: What the…? Who let in all these bunnies? Dialme!

Dialme: (innocently) Yes?

Family Business

1: Prologue

The bedroom of a five-year old child can be a testament to his dreams if one can see properly behind all the clutter. The bedroom of five-year old Samuel James Simmons had been recently re-wallpapered after the permanent-pen-on-wall incident. His daddy had been good about it though: he even let Sam choose his own wallpaper. The four walls of the bedroom were covered in planets and rocket ships and moons, with little children astronauts waving in a friendly manner. These four walls were met with a ceiling covered in paper, glow-in-the-dark stars, and a floor that was, naturally, covered with toys. Buzz Lightyear of Star Command took post in the right corner (though, to be politically polite, Sam had placed Woody in charge of the comforters), half-done drawings of rocket ships littered the left corner, and taking centre stage was a group of triumphant teddy bears placing a flag on the carpeted surface of the moon.

In the darkness of his cluttered bedroom, Sam, clothed in his favourite pajamas, fiddled with the telescope that his father just bought him. "Ursa Minor," he said slowly, coming upon the constellation. "Ursa Major." He changed the direction a little bit, just as his father instructed him to. "Big Dipper."

"Hey, Champ," drawled a voice behind him. "Planning out your invasion?" Uncle Reggie, smiling, tossed his bag and jacket to the side of the room and held out his arms.

"Uncle Reggie!" Sam jumped over his collection of teddy bears, whisked pass the mountain of paper, and vaulted into his uncle.

"How're you doing, Champ?" Uncle Reggie said, holding his nephew.

"I'm doing good. How 'bout you, Uncle Reggie? Those aliens giving you any trouble?"

"Nah, your uncle can take them on. You know, I was thinking that I'd catch you asleep, Champ. Isn't it way past your bedtime?"

"My bedtime's 11:00."

"Nice try. If you brush your teeth and get into bed within fifteen minutes, I'll tell you a story."

Sam was done within ten.

X x X

Sam never did hear the end of the story. He fell asleep right in the middle of it, even though he really wanted to know how the humans defeated the evil space invaders. It was a whirring sound that woke him, followed by a series of clicks. Blinking blearily into wakefulness, he turned on his side-lamp, looking around the room to find the source of the noise.

Buzz Lightyear stood grinning in the right corner. Papers littered the left corner. The teddy bears had centre stage. Everything looked alright. Sam shrugged. Maybe it was nothing. He turned off the lamp just before he thought: Maybe it's under your bed. With a squeak, Sam turned the light back on, gathering his feet up beneath him and glaring suspiciously at the floor. Debating whether or not it was time to call for his father to bring his baseball bat, or his mother to bring her gardening shears, Sam saw movement in the corner of his eye.

Uncle Reggie's things were still there. And something was poking the black bag from the inside. Curious, but not alarmed, Sam got out of his bed, the threat of whatever was underneath forgotten. The poking was more vigorous now. Sam crouched to get a better look at it, and got out of the way just in time before something sharp pierced through. With a startled cry, Sam fell back, landing on his elbows. The creature made its way out of the bag.

Little antennas adorned its head. Its eyes glowed a vicious green. Its arms were shaped like scythes. The bottom portion of the body was like a scorpion, the upper portion standing upright. It gave a tiny screech, looking around the room. Its eyes rested on Sam. Its antennas twitched curiously.

"Dad?" Sam called out tentatively. "Can you bring your baseball bat?"

"It's just a dream, Sammy," his father called back.

"More like a nightmare," Sam muttered, watching the little thing curiously. It regarded him in the same manner, and startled to scuttle towards him. Sam jumped on the bed.

"Dad! It's not a dream!" he called out, his voice pitched an octave higher.

"Yes it is, Sam. Go back to sleep," his mother called up to him.

The little creature, seeing that he was out of reach, turned its attention to the space bears. Fascinated, Sam watched as the creature poked the largest of the bears—easily three times its size—and had to choke back laughter as the bear fell over and fell on it. The little thing gave distressed mewling sounds, and the boy felt so bad for it that he went over and rescued it from the cuddly threat.

"Aw, hey little guy," Sam said, picking up it up. "You're not so bad, aren't you?"

The critter gave a series of whirls, testing the softness of the boy's palms with its scorpion-like feet. "Hey!" The little thing shot up his arm and rested on his shoulder. Sam stiffened as he felt it cuddle up against his neck. "Hey, you're really cold," Sam whispered to it. It gave a contented series of clicks in response. "Where'd you come from, huh? Did you follow Uncle Reggie home?"

There was no reply. Sam had a suspicion that it fell asleep. "Maybe he'll know where you came from, and how to get you back home." Precariously balancing it on his shoulder, Sam made his way to the guest room where Uncle Reggie usually slept whenever he came over. To his surprise, the room was empty. So was the one next to it. None of the adults were asleep.

"I think that they need bedtimes," Sam muttered. Voices wafted over from the kitchen. Sam made his way to the stairs, his slippers coming into contact noisily with the floor.

"…Don't know why its output had a sudden dip," Sam heard Uncle Reggie say.

"Hasn't it dipped before?" Sam heard his father ask. There was a rustling of papers and the sounds of coffee mugs being filled. Sam ducked inside the bathroom next to the kitchen, wanting to hear more. The little thing on his shoulder, sleepy before, was wide awake now, and making very distressed sounds. It was clambering from shoulder to shoulder and from arm to arm. Sam picked it up in his palms, held it close to himself, and shushed it.

"Yes, but it's always gotten back up to the same level of output after the threats have been…taken care of."

"Any chance that there's been an escape?"

"None. We make sure of it."

Sam had to bite back a gasp as an image filled his head. A creature, like the one he held cupped in his hands, was inside a glass box. There was Uncle Reggie there too. He had a look of glee on his face as he pushed a button. There was a zap, and the creature was no more.

As the image faded from his head, Sam looked at the creature in his hands. It looked back up at him solemnly.

"Well," Sam heard his mother say carefully. That must mean whatever it was they were talking about, it was serious. His mother was usually just so upbeat. "Well, maybe it's for the best. You know that we don't hold in whatever experiments are being done. That's why we left Sector Seven in the first place."

There was an annoyed sound on the part of Uncle Reggie. "You're just being silly."

"Nevertheless, we want no part in it, Reggie," his father said. Sam could feel Uncle Reggie giving his father a hard, long look.

"You were always the black sheep of the family, Ron," Uncle Reggie said finally. There was a pause.

"Get out," Sam's father said quietly.

"Fine, fine," Uncle Reggie said complacently. "I'll just get my things." Sam bolted quietly up the stairs and dived into his bed. Uncle Reggie came a minute later, gathering his bag and coat. He gave Sam a pat on the shoulder. Sam kept back a flinch at the contact.

"Goodnight, Champ," Uncle Reggie said. "Don't turn out like your daddy, okay?"

After the door was closed, and after Sam heard the quiet sound of Uncle Reggie's car driving away, he sat upright in his bed, turned on the lamp, and turned to the creature that perched itself on the top of his pillow.

"I won't let him take you," he said quietly. Sam didn't know if it understood, but it gave a contented series of clicks. It sent him another picture: one of a gigantic black cube, channelling its energy into various objects, as all the scientists were preoccupied with something else. They were all coming to life.

"There's more of you? Or there's going to be more of you?" The creature tapped on his pillow twice. "I guess that's the second choice then?" The creature nodded.

All same. All one, said a voice in his head. Sam could only assume that it came from the creature.

"So…all you guys…are one guy?" It gave something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He narrowed his eyes indignantly. "What's so—" he caught on. "Oh. One girl." She nodded. "Well, when you get all your parts together…you can come to my house, okay? Just be careful." She let out a contented whirl, and proceeded to snuggle up next to him, keeping her scythes curled inward so only the blunt edge came into contact with his soft skin.

"Well what should I call you? I can't keep calling you 'creature' all the time."

Allspark. Allspark. Allspark.

"Sparky?" A disgruntled chirrup.

Allspark. Allspark. Allspark.

"Sparkplug?" A more muted chirrup, as if saying 'that will do.' She twisted then, and, making small mechanical noises, changed form into—"You were masquerading as Uncle Reggie's walkie-talkie?" he asked incredulously. Another chirrup. "Well, okay…but I can't be carrying around a walkie-talkie…"

Can change. Later. Sleep now.

Ten window visits later, Uncle Reggie came again to say that the black Cube was completely drained. Sam's mother and father were unmoving in their position of 'not going to get involved with dealings of a secret government agency again.' Sam eyed the objects in his room nervously as the adults talked downstairs. With luck, his parents wouldn't notice that he had suddenly obtained an alarm clock, two walkie-talkies, five remote-controlled cars without the cars, and two seemingly useless remote controls for TV's that were AWOL.

After Sparkplug had gathered herself together, she started to share her dreams—her nightmares—with Sam. Sam awoke in a cold sweat after a particularly vicious one. Sorry, she said ashamedly, all parts of her coming closer, clustering near the boy.

"Was that…was that real?"

Real. Memories.

"Were they your…your…"

Family. They search. Don't want them.

"I'll hide you. I promise." Sparkplug scuttled closer, and Sam embraced her—all ten parts of her.

Eleven years later, Sam had to marvel that he could keep Sparkplug hidden at all. Sure there were tight days when a part of her or two had to masquerade as a toaster because there were already too many toys in the room—leading to very awkward questions—but all in all eleven years passed without much incident. The kids from E.T. had nothing on him.

But now that he had hit his teenage years, Sam had to thank the fact that it was considered normal for teenagers to be carrying multiple electronics. He also had to thank the fact that people seemed obsessed with making their electronics smaller and smaller. As it was, he could carry around a laptop, a digital camera, a PSPII, two handhelds, two iPods, and three cell phones without earning a second glance from those passing by.

Score.

Now for a car…