AN: My muse just decided to beat me over the head again. I came up with idea as I was researching different types of unicorns and their history for a fic I have in the works. Go fig I pop out a one shot in the process. The poem is actually one of my own making. If you want to use it, please PM me and give me credit for it.

Hope you enjoy!

Hail the beat of horses' hooves

They beat the Drums of War

And if they see to call me on

I shall battle on once more

But if they see to send me Home

I shall battle on no more

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

-Get up, boy! Get up!-

"What?"

-They need you boy, get up!-

It took him a few moments to get to his feet. When he did the sight was even stranger than when the Primes had spoken to him moments ago.

-The Primes mean well, but you still don't know, don't understand.-

"Huh? Who?"

-Think of us as… perhaps this will help.-

Next to him a horse, black as night with silver mane, appeared. What shocked him the most though, was the bright silver horn in the middle of its head. It almost kept him from noticing the silvery wings tucked tight against its sides.

-Look around you, boy!-

He was astonished to see the battle field frozen in time. He could see bullets ripping through the air, missiles mid-explosion, bodies a heartbeat away from impact.

-You are a part of us, the Guardians of Life. These are your friends, your people. You have to fight!-

"Guardians?"

-We protect all Life, here and elsewhere. The Cybertronians called one of our charges AllSpark. The Primes are protectors, Guardians, for the Cybertronians. As we have been Guardians for others.-

"I don't understand!"

-What you have aided, what you have done, was no fluke, no chance of fate. You were born into this. There was no folly, you are exactly as you are supposed to be.-

"I'm just a boy!"

-You are so much more than that. Look again!-

Ironhide caught his attention, big and dark and larger than life. Over his form he could see something, almost ghostly. A giant of an old war horse stood, black and covered with the marks of past battles, armor dented and scraped, bleeding from the bits of flesh visible, but still snapping, biting and stomping at the enemies. Its mane and muzzle were graying with age, but it fought as fiercely as one fresh to war.

-Keep looking!-

Ratchet, running straight through the fray, dodging shots and lobbing his own at the Decepticons as he rushed to aid another 'bot. A pale draft horse, stout and sturdy, ran with him, kicking and biting but never wavering from its course, a pack on its back over top the scuffed armor. He could just make out the Cybertronian symbol for hope stamped over the medics' caduceus.

Sideswipe, silver and flashing in the light, swords blurs of deadly motion. A silvery warhorse at his side spun and kicked with such grace it was almost a dance. Youth did not make him a less dangerous enemy.

Arcee, Chromia and Flareup. He could only see one of the sisters, but the ghosts of the others followed hers, a trio of flashing, biting furious mares, red roan, pitch black and shining chestnut. They moved fluidly together, almost becoming one at times before separating in their dance of weapons and hooves.

Jolt, a blue roan kicking and biting at enemies. Not quite as gracefully as his friends, but no less fighting alongside them.

Skids and Mudflap, a pair of bays, tumbling and struggling but never giving up.

Bumblebee, his best friend, his guardian, his badly neglected brother, dented and scraped but still fighting for them, for him. At his side he could see a colt, legs long, gold coat and pale mane, a brilliant white-gold horn shining from the middle of its forehead. The armor was thinner than the war horse's, but that didn't stop it from stomping, kicking, gouging any of those who dared think it weak for being young.

-You are understanding, keep looking.-

Will Lennox, another warhorse, not as worn as Ironhide, dusty brown and scruffy, armor dented and scratched, but still steady against the tide of battle. He could see two paler ghosts behind him, a white mare and a fluffy little foal. Sarah and Anabelle.

Mikaela, his Mikaela, a ginger mustang filly with dark brown mane, sweet and loving and wildly untamed.

And then … Optimus, the one he failed, the one he let down.

The giant of a horse was laid on the ground, armor dented and rent with gouges, its dappled blue-gray coat spotted with blood and darker things. Silvery wings were bound tight against its sides, its horn scratched and chipped nearly through. He couldn't bring himself to look at the area over its heart.

-His wings are chained because he does not believe in himself.-

The great black head of the horse, no unicorn, next to him turned, pale blue eyes locking with his.

-Will you show him, young one? Make him believes and help him find his wings?-

"I'm just a boy."

The great head moved again, bumping him in the side with a somewhat amused huff.

-No, you are not. And you know it. The Matrix of Leadership is earned, and you have young one. Now get moving and show that old-hoofer how it's done.-

He glanced back once, seeing the Primes and the ghosts over them. He understood now that all of their wings were untested, unneeded in their very-long lives.

Nodding once to the dark creature at his side he took a leap of faith and jumped.

Captain Will Lennox looked down at the still body of Samuel James Witwicky. The damage had been too great, his heart had stopped.

He was gone.

"But if they see to send me Home

I shall battle on no more"

The words from the old poem seemed fitting if inadequate in wake of the young man's life.

Mikaela was tucked against his side, crying so hard it was difficult to breathe. It was the only thing keeping him from crying as well. She needed him to be strong right now.

Both of them were shocked when Sam's body arched as gave a pained gasp. They were not expecting to see him whole and unharmed, wounds healed over as if they had never happened.

The smile he gave them was one they'd never seen before, filled with age and understanding. Neither could stop him before he tore off across the battle field towards the still form of Optimus Prime.

Bumblebee moved, covering his charge as he ran pell-mell through skirmish after skirmish, debris and rubble opening new scrapes and cuts.

Will stared, and the rest of the poem seemed to come from his lips without him realizing it.

"Hail the beat of horses' hooves

They beat the Drums of War

And if they see to call me on

I shall battle on once more"

Not once did Sam stop.

Later Will, Bee and Mikaela would swear they saw a ghostly form overlapping that of Sam as he ran. A young brown paint charging through the fray, white horn glowing brightly,

White wings spread to the sun.