So, here is my Christmas present; the final part of this story. And I realize that probably, I'll be asked for more. Honestly, the way I write, I might do another oneshot to sequel this or just continue it. I literally write wherever inspiration strikes. I reread old stuff and think, hey! I could put this here! So there might be more eventually. I just have no particular plan to do so, and thus this story is now complete.

A small note, I decided I really don't care. I don't ship BeexSam, but if anyone takes it that way, I honestly don't care. I know people will, but my only rebuttal... I share a bed with my best friends all the time. So whatever. And I sort of selfishly love platonic fluff more than any other kind of fluff, and in my opinion, there simply isn't enough of it. Platonic is the best. That's really all there is to say on the matter.

I don't own Transformers, and I really hope you like this chapter.

I woke up later that evening after what could only have been a one or two hour nap. I'm surprised it lasted that long, actually.

Rolling over and pulling the blankets over my head with a deep sense of deja vu, I tried to block out whatever had woken me this time. I was no longer tired at all, but I love this bed. I love it so much, I don't want to leave again.

Then the bed shifted. I froze, opening my eyes and staring at the sheets over my face. Taking a quick analysis of my position and the weights on my bed, I concluded that there was someone sitting at the foot of it, to my left and probably leaning against the wall.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved my feet downwards, kicking whoever it was off.

"Sam!" A familiar voice objected.

"MMmmhpfmm." I mumbled incoherently. I heard him get to his feet and walk around to the head of the bed.

"What was that for? I was just sitting here!" Bumblebee complained.

"My bed." Came my answer.

I could practically hear him roll his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Get your own."

"Sam." He scoffed, and ruthlessly stole my blankets. Hey!

I lunged after them, tackling him to the ground and satisfying my sense of self-defence before pulling back and stretching, yawning.

"Feel better?" Bumblebee demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm good. What's going on? Why are you hiding in here?" I asked, looking around for the clock. Yeah, it's only six, so what's up? I only took a half hour nap.

He shrugged. "Why are you? Optimus and your mother are negotiating sleeping arrangements right now. But it all depends on how many of us your Mom can get away with stuffing in here."

"None?" I wondered, but scratched my neck. "Oh, I don't mind. Just depends on who. Do any of you snore? No, you wouldn't even know probably." Sure I love my personal space, but I want to do everything I can to help them out. I don't want them all cramped up in the living room, or anything. And the garage isn't actually a good idea at night; it gets cold. I would know. I slept out there a couple times when I was out late with Bee and too lazy to go back inside.

"Well, come on then. They're upset you came up here to hide this whole time." Bumblebee got up and unlocked the door. I see. He's probably in here to make sure no one else came in and woke me up. He, at least, is somewhat familiar with the sanctity of Saturday mornings.

Someone dumped a bowl of whatever had been for dinner in my lap after I sat down-I didn't pay attention to who -and I gave a general greetings to them all. I didn't actually pay attention to who all was in here, actually. Definitely not everyone.

"Sammy, would it be alright if one or two of them slept in your room?" Mom asked, sitting back down. Was it her that gave me the food?

I shrugged. "Depends on who. Bumblebee? Yeah. I'm alright with him." I swung the spoon in his general direction.

"I trust the twins to better behave themselves in the guest bedroom than any other option." Optimus mused, crossing his arms. "It's been agreed that the two of them will share that room. And Judy has offered a cot and this couch, and if you were alright with it, she says the cot would have the most room in your bedroom."

I nodded. "Sure." Taking another bite, I did the math in my head. The twins are either sharing that bed- which isn't weird because they are twins -and two of them are taking the cot and the couch. That leaves two more. "Who's staying on the couch?"

"Ironhide." Optimus answered.

"Hey, where is he?" I looked around. He and the twins weren't in here, which explained why my first impression of the room was that it was emptier than before.

"He and the twins are in the garage, assisting Ratchet." Optimus glanced out the window.

"Alright, so who else is in my room? You or Ratchet staying out here with Ironhide?" I took another bite.

"I'm going to bring out some blankets for the couch and one of the chairs." Mom stated. "Optimus here insists on taking the chair."

"Of course." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" Optimus raised an eyebrow, smirking at my antics.

"Nothing, O great and gracious leader." I laughed. The chair will be the most uncomfortable, so of course Optimus would insist upon taking that one.

Prime laughed with me, but didn't deny anything.

"How long do you think this is going to last? Do you have any idea?" I turned to Optimus and Bee.

"From what we understand so far, it will ware off with time. But that time is unknown. It could be anywhere between one night and an entire cycle. If we can learn more about this condition, we can artificially speed up the process and pinpoint exactly how long." Optimus sighed. "William will be keeping us informed about the happenings on the base while we are gone."

"Good, good."

Ratchet was already sitting on the cot, still on my laptop with the cord stretching toward the wall, charging it when we came in. I pursed my lips and looked around the room, dropping my day's clothes into the laundry pile.

Ratchet stopped typing and looked up at me critically. "Samuel."

"What?" I asked innocently. He narrowed his eyes and I sighed, giving in. "Fine. Fine." Crouching down to scoop the entire pile up, I glanced towards Bumblebee. Bee pushed the door back open for me, so I could walk down the hall and dump the pile into the laundry hamper. When I came back, Ratchet had returned to his original position. I wonder if he's going to be doing that all night?

But then another thing came back to mind. I hadn't been sure which of them was going to take the cot, but I also remember that we only have one cot. And there's two extra bodies in this room.

"So... were are you supposed to sleep?" I asked Bee.

He shrugged and threw his borrowed blanket on the floor in the larger space between the cot and the bed. He kicked some of the other random stuff I had laying around my room out of the way and gestured.

I frowned, but shrugged, slipping into the bed. Bee shut the lights off, glancing toward Ratchet to make sure he wasn't going to yell at him for doing that. But Ratchet didn't say anything.

Bee laid down on the floor and I put my back to both of them. The light from the laptop and the sound of typing wasn't avoidable, however. After a couple minutes, I turned back over and looked to see Ratchet still hadn't moved an inch.

"Are you going to go to sleep?" I wondered.

"It isn't my fault your resting periods begin sooner than mine." He answered without looking up.

Bumblebee looked up at me, thinking the same thing I was. He grinned and nodded. I winked and looked back to Ratchet.

"Yeah, humans really have a longer sleeping cycle than Cybertronians, don't they? Kind of sucks. You of all mechs know that, right?"

Ratchet's typing faltered and he glanced over at me, glaring. "I know exactly what you're implying, Samuel. I have work to do."

"I'm not the one that keeps saying humans need more sleep than Cybertronians. You don't want to be a hypocrite, do you?"

He glared, and turned back to his work. I sighed and layed back on my back, staring at the ceiling.

A moment later, the laptop clicked closed and the cot squeaked under the stress of someone laying down over it. I smiled and glanced back over at Ratchet, who now had his eyes closed and laid flat on his back, his arms folded over his stomach. He could already be asleep, the way he looked.

Movement on the floor caught my attention now, and I looked back over at Bee. He grinned at me, laying on his side. "Sleepover."

I snorted. "Right."

"It's like in the garage, except the opposite." He mused.

"Not really-"

"For pit's sake!" Ratchet outburst, ruining our assumption that whispering means he can't hear us. "Get in the bed already, Bumblebee!"

"Excuse me?" I practically sat up.

"How many times have you fallen asleep in the recreational room on Bumblebee? Get over it and go to sleep." He didn't even open his eyes to snap at us.

I looked back down at the ground to see Bumblebee shrugging.

"But... it's my bed." I whimpered, embracing the blankets around me like some precious child. Laughing and shaking my head, I rolled over against the wall. "Whatever."

The kid of a human-Autobot slipped in and fell asleep before I ever did. Ratchet snored lightly within ten minutes and Bumblebee stretched out on his stomach. At least he didn't snore. Oh well.

The next morning, I woke up with my arm twisted uncomfortably down the crack between the bed and the wall, and my face pressed up against said wall. With a groan, I extracted my arm and rolled my shoulder, feeling the sore muscles from sleeping that way for who knows how long. My neck was sore, and I probably had a big red spot on my cheek now.

However, when I tried to lay in a more comfortable position, I was met with resistance. There was already someone in that position, in the middle of the bed, stretched out like he owned it. So the only thing I accomplished by fleeing the wall was rolling halfway on top of my best friend.

I rolled back again- too much rollin for this early in the morning -and angled myself to kick the kid out of my bed again. But, thinking better of it when Ratchet gave me a look, I instead just kicked him far enough over for me to even sit comfortably. Bumblebee grunted, but didn't even stir. Once that was done, I looked back over to Ratchet, who seemed to have been awake for hours already. He was setting the folded-up cot against the wall and clearing my desk off for space to sit and use the laptop.

"What time is it?" I asked, frowning. "How long have you been up?"

"It's nearly nine in the morning, and I've only just woken." He passed off.

"Right." I layed back down to stretch. When no one said anything else, I sat back up and tried to figure out how to get out of here. The only way I'm leaving the room is by crawling over bed-hog over here. Not that I mind, I wanted to kick him off the bed again.

Amazingly, he was still asleep after getting a knee to the ribs. I've never known him to be such a heavy sleeper before. Weird.

Exiting the bathroom a few minutes later, I went down the stairs out of curiosity. Dad works early on Sundays, but Mom was up talking with Ironhide. Those two were near the last I expected to make casual conversation, until I realized Ironhide was instructing her on household weapons. Apparently her favorite bat wasn't the most efficient weapon she could have chosen.

"Ron has some golf clubs in the back room." She suggested.

"That's better, but are you strong enough to swing something that heavy?" He asked.

"I don't know. There's different weight ones in there." She thought.

"No." I moaned, coming up behind the couch. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Well you're up early." Mom mused, surprised to see me.

"Sam, if we had been burglars, she would have only taken one of our knee caps out before we'd taken her down." Ironhide insisted.

"Wow. Alright, I don't need that image. If she had a gun, she wouldn't have taken down six intruders." I shook my head, disbelieving this was actually happening. "Stop encouraging her, Ironhide."

But he seemed to take my words seriously, nodding solumly and thinking. Then, he turned to Mom agan. "Judy, do you use hairspray?"

"Um, not usually. But on special occasions..."

"Do you have any lighte-"

"No!" I cut him off, terrified by the image of my Mom brandishing a makeshift napalm gun. "Stop it. The baseball bat is fine against regular people. Anyone worse than that, that's why we have Bumblebee."

"What if the Decepticons try to take us to use against you again, Sammy? Your father and I don't want to be in that situation again." She insisted.

"You and Bee ain't always around." Ironhide agreed.

I swear, I'd rather see my mother with a gun than setting hairspray on fire. But just because I knew how unlikely that would be- since Bee's bugged the house to let us know of any Decepticon in the area even if we aren't there -I put my arms up and gave up.

"Fine. If you find yourself having to fight off a freakin' Decepticon, grab the hairspray. Whatever. But for no one else."

"Alright, sweetheart." Mom pat my arm assuringly, clearly trying to pacify me and obviously lying.

I shook my head again, wanting to flee the scene as quickly as possible. I rushed towards the kitchen, trying desperately to not image the entire house on fire and the police questioning Mom on the front lawn.

The kitchen was inhabited already too. Both of the twins were sticking their heads in the refrigerator, completely ignorant of my presence. I let the cabinet shut loudly when I grabbed some poptarts. One of them hit their head on the freezer as they both pulled out quickly to stare at me.

"What're you doing?" I asked.

"Lighting the house on fire with hairspray." Sideswipe answered straight-faced.

"You do that, you're beyond dead." I pointed the toaster pastries at them both.

"I was just looking for food." Sunstreaker put his arms up.

"I don't care. I'm watching you." I went for the toaster.

"Hey, Sam. Are Bee and Ratchet up yet?" Sunstreaker asked, coming closer while Sideswipe returned to the fridge.

"Ratchet is, he's still working on whatever on my computer. No idea what he's doing. But Bumblebee's sleeping like a log." I wrinkle my nose.

"Yeah, good luck waking him up." Sunstreaker laughed, before sniffing in the air. My poptarts were starting to spread their beautiful aroma from their fiery cubbies. "What's that? Is it good?"

"Poptarts; the breakfast of champions." I retorted, but looked at him weird. "Bumblebee's always a real light sleeper."

"Are we talking about the same scout here?" He questioned.

"Bumblebee, the little yellow camaro that calls himself my guardian." I pinched my fingers to exaggerate.

"That's because he is your guardian." Sideswipe scoffed like we were both stupid. "Of course he wakes up for you. All you've got to do is walk into the room or say 'ow' within fifty yards of him."

"Right." Sunny nodded in agreeance, realization dawning on his face. "Got his guardian senses tingling every time we kidnapped you. Ha. Humans don't have those, so good luck waking him up now."

The toaster popped and a hand shot out to grab my poptarts. Before I could blink, both the twins were out of the room and complaining about how hot they were. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a new package. Well that makes sense. I knew about those 'guardian senses' already, but I guess I never realized that without them, Bee's such a heavy sleeper.

Back in the living room with a plate to hold my piping hot breakfast, giving a smug look to the twins when I leisurely ate mine without getting burns, I realized my headcount was one short. Assuming Bumblebee and Ratchet are still in my room, that leaves one Autobot unaccounted for. However, out of all those that could go unaccounted for, at least Prime is the most trustworthy.

"Where's Optimus?" I asked curiously, sitting in Dad's chair.

"He went out to the garage earlier." Ironhide filled in easily. "Practically the moment he was up."

"Oh. Well, there's like four boxes of poptarts in there if you're hungry." I told him, getting back up. I started upstairs with my plate, despite the look of disapproval Mom gave me.

Back in my room, Bumblebee was stretched out over the bed again and Ratchet was so intent on what he was doing he either didn't notice me come in or was ignoring me.

"What are you doing?" I asked. It doesn't even look like my computer anymore. There were Cybertronian characters everywhere, and the computer set up was completely alien.

"I've hacked Teletraan's remove servers. Your computer was already predispositioned as an access point."

Well that's new.

"Awesome. So what are you doing now?"

He gave me an irritated look. Right. No hovering. "Attempting to reach all the data we'd already collected from the infectious substance."

"Sweet." I backed off, leaving him alone. Instead, I set the plate down and went to grab my shoes. Pushing Bumblebee over far enough to sit on the bed, I crouched over to put them on. With my now-empty plate in hand and shoes on my feet, I glanced back into my room. Bumblebee, not making a sound and not moving an inch, looked like he could have passed out instead of just being asleep. Ratchet was typing and scrolling, getting an aura of irritation slowly growing around him. Whatever he's doing, he's clearly not having any luck.

No one paid me any mind as I dropped the plate off and slipped out the front door.

I knocked on the garage door before opening it up. Optimus had his sleeves rolled up and was working on something they seemed to have brought with them, because I've never seen it before. But he looked like your average guy working on something in his garage... ignoring the fact that something was obviously alien.

"Good morning Samuel." He greeted.

"Hey there. They said you've been out here a while already, any luck yet?" I asked, sitting on some crate full of gardening supplies.

"Perhaps. But my proposal is purely theoretical until Ratchet can retrieve the data recorded on our transformations already." He mused, leaning back to look at the device.

"What is that, then?" I wondered.

"Remnants of the device that had contaminated our systems to begin with. We don't have much to analyze it with, but Ratchet had conducted an extensive analysis on it beforehand. We just hadn't looked into the results much before." He reached over to pick up a tupperware container from the kitchen that Mom must have given him. It was filled about a centimeter with a sort of slimy, clear-green substance.

"Is that the stuff?"

He nodded. "Thankfully, there were remnants in the containment unit here." He pointed down a twisted path that was jagged and obviously broken apart during some explosion.

"Well, it looked like he was pretty close." I mused. "Do you need any help?"

He paused, looking the device over before handing the tupperware full of goo to me. "Can you bring that in to Ratchet?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"And Samuel?" I paused at the door, looking back at him. "You're going to have to wake Bumblebee up with noise."

I nodded with a grin he shouldn't trust. Oh, I think I know what I'll do. Ratchet may be a little miffed at my choice in high-decibel music, but I think it will be worth it. Just a quick stop into the hall closet to grab the portable radio and one of the most obnoxious CDs we own, and I was on my way back up the stairs.

"Here, Optimus got this out of the thing in the garage." I set the container down on my desk.

"Thank you, Samuel." Ratchet nodded.

"Just a warning, I'm about to play some music real loud." I told him casually.

"Watch your head." Was his only reply, and he started to visually analyze the substance. I frowned at the comment, but shrugged it off. After plugging the radio in and turning the music on- with the volume all the way down, I skipped to the middle of the song and paused to put the volume the highest it would go. Setting it on the headboard, above the kid that's only moved an inch since I was last in here, I jabbed at the play button.

Barbie Girl started blaring at the top of her obnoxious lungs, and blue eyes flashed open. The next instant, the radio was rolling on it's side on the ground, halfway across the room with it's cord pulled from the outlet, and I was on the ground with a familiar face threatening over me.

Nobody moved, and it slowly started to dawn on his face what had just happened. Bumblebee eased up, lowering his arm held at an awkward angle like he still had tasers to activate on command on his wrists. His eyes drooped, and he groaned, falling over sideways to the ground.

"I hate youuu." He tried to cover his face up.

I laughed, not realizing anyone could react so cartoon-like to being woken up like that.

"Shut up." He kicked at me. I kicked back.

"Good morning, sunshine."

"I haaate youuuu." He moaned, shoving his face into the carpet.

I couldn't stop laughing. "Come on, you probably broke the radio. Ha! That was awesome."

"I could have broken your head." He glared at me, sitting up now and more awake.

"Whatever." I didn't believe him for a second.

"I don't have my guardian protocols. I could have killed you."

"With your wrist? Whatever. Come on, you're the last one up." I was on my feet, offering him a hand. He glared at me, not taking it. "Suck it up, Bee. You may not have all those fancy scanners or anything, but humans aren't completely ignorant subconsciously."

He let me help him up, rolling his eyes.

"Ha ha!" Suddenly an unknown and dangerous sound shifted both of our attentions to the monster in the corner of the room. Bumblebee hid behind me in fear, and I backed us both towards the door in hopes of fleeing before it turned on us. But we were too slow, a 'happy' Ratchet was already turning in the chair to grin at us.

Grin!

"You two, go inform Optimus that I've cracked into the missions database. We'll be returning to normal by the end of the week."

We turned and ran for our lives, fleeing the scene of the would-be crime to leave the terrifying creature long behind us. Never before had something so obscene been seen by human eyes. I don't think I'm ever going to get Ratchet's grin out of my memory.

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I honestly think I'm terrible at endings, but I don't think I've ever given a story a proper ending. Far too often, I find myself pleased with an open interpretation ending, that could easily be continued and yet stubbornly leaves people wanting proper closure. But it's enough closure to satisfy me, and if I attempt to go beyond my own satisfaction, I come to hate the ending, and it feels like it drags on too much. My closure is more abstract that literally saying, "Blah blah blah they figure it out blah blah blah they're back to normal blah blah the end." I can't do it.

So instead, if you didn't get what this ending is implying... it's implying that with Ratchet now having full access to everything he needs and Optimus working constantly to figure the remains of the trap, they easily figure it out. If you want to, go ahead and picture them walking into the garage one at a time, then driving out in their alt forms, Sam's parents super relieved to have the house back, and Sam having to get a new computer because his has now been flagged for hacking top-secret government databases.

The End.

Please, tell me how I did.