Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

IMPORTANT NOTE!

This story may have several elements that people are tired of seeing in stories such as this. I will do my best to make sure that everything in this story has a logical (as logical as Transformers gets anyways) reason. Therefore if there is an element you don't like, please review. Even if it is to tell me you think my story is crap, tell me why. I will listen and try to make it better. The please continue reviews are encouraging but it is the informative ones that really make the stories better and keep me going.

The aged, white farmhouse, usually quiet and calm, was bustling with activity one Saturday morning. The washing machine was finishing up the last load of laundry and the rest of the clothes were drying on the clothes line. Large trees in the yard provided plenty of shade on the hot summer day and a seldom used tire swing swung lazily in the breeze. An elderly couple sat at the cracked and worn breakfast table, drinking coffee before finishing their final preparations, overlooking the carefully tended flower garden, kept up by the old woman and the young woman in residence.

The young woman Alene, the source of most of the activity, was packing the last bag she planned to take with to California. As she was walking out the door she turned back and looked at the room, bare except for a stripped bed, a beat-up dresser and a writing desk. She looked at the lines on the door marking her height for each birthday, despite her half-hearted protests in the later years, and smiled fondly. Then she turned and Alene walked down the squeaky stairs to put the last of her bags into her grandfather's decrepit, old pickup truck. Her grandmother was now standing in the kitchen, wringing her old hands vigorously while Alene's grandfather tried to get the ancient vehicle to start. Alene's grandfather was a very superstitious man and believed that the only way for the truck to start was if he muttered a constant stream of cussing while turning the key.

"Works every time," He'd tell Alene, "Every goddamn *whirwhirwhir* time!"

Her grandfather had white hair similar to Albert Einstein's and bright blue eyes that didn't miss a thing. He refused to age and would bike on is custom-made 'grandma bike' every morning. If Alene's younger cousins asked nicely and Francis Stone was in a good mood, he could still to a handstand at seventy-five years old. Age had never stooped his back.

In contrast her grandmother, a slender graceful woman with short permed hair, was very wrinkled and her hands crippled with arthritis. Her back was curved and she always used her cane. She was unable to walk any farther than the mailbox and her glasses were almost half an inch thick. Eleanor Stone was the sweetest little eighty-eight year old lady anybody could ever find anywhere.

Vroom VROOM!

"Alright Alene m'girl, time to go."

She turned to say her goodbyes to her grandparents.

"You don't have to go honey pie," Eleanor began, "We could ask Judge Harper to reconsider."

Judge Harper was the reason Alene had to go to California. She had declared Alene's grandparents unfit to raise a seventeen year old girl. Harper was known for her strict court and despite Alene's birthday a little less than a year away, still ordered her to be moved to the next of kin. The next of kin was Alene's mother's sister Judy. Alene loved her grandparents but she felt that she was simply costing them too much money to ask for the Judge to reconsider. She would miss living with them, but after ten years of knowing that they were just scraping by, Alene felt that it was high time for them to indulge themselves in whatever activities the elderly indulged in.

"Let her go Eleanor. She's seventeen now, she should see bigger places than this town."

"I know but every time we turn on the news there's always some robbery or, or mugging going on in those big cities. I just don't want my honey pie to get hurt," Eleanor had been using this same excuse since the beginning.

"Alene's going to live with Ron and Judy, nothing will happen to her. Besides, when's the last time she's gotten to see Sam?" This was Francis's key point.

"I know," Eleanor started, "I just think that it makes no sense for her to leave now, less than a year from becoming an adult and we have to send her off to California."

Alene stood there, watching her grandparents go back and forth.

"Alene agrees with grandpa," Alene began, mostly muttering to herself since neither of them were paying much attention, "She thinks that her grandparents deserve some time to themselves."

Finally, when they both were out of things to say she hugged her grandmother goodbye.

"Do you have the cookies for plane ride there?"

"Yeah Grandma."

"And the ones to give to Ron and Judy."

"Yes Grandma."

"Did you remember the quilt?"

"That was the first thing I packed Grandma."

"Then I guess it's just time for you to go." Alene's grandmother choked on the end of her sentence and tears filled her eyes.

BEEEEEEEEP! Francis Stone was not a patient man.

"I'll call you two as soon as I land." Alene hugged her grandma one more time and ran to the truck.

She waved heartily out the window, "Bye Grandma! I love you!"


Departing from her grandfather was a much less dramatic experience.

"Bye kiddo." Francis Stone looked like he just wanted to get back to his secluded home, rather than dawdle on the tarmac with about twenty other people.

"I love you Gramps," Alene said, hugging him tightly, then releasing him and heading out to board the plane.

He waited by the pilot of the small plane and made sure everything was as it should be before waving one last time and walking back to his truck.


When Jeff the pilot landed next to the airport and Alene walked inside, she quickly realized what a small town she had grown up in. She walked up to a security guard to ask directions to the correct gate when a woman's voice came on the intercom, "Now boarding for San Diego."

"That your flight sugar?" Alene didn't appreciate the way he called her sugar but she wasn't about to miss her flight.

"Yes sir."

"Come with me, I'll escort you there." She wasn't sure about his intentions completely, but she wasn't about to risk missing her flight. Thankfully she made it there in plenty of time, her luggage already on board. Like the first plane ride she was crammed in next to total strangers but despite the drooling baby and the annoying business man, she soon fell asleep.


Sam Witwicky loved his cousin; he hadn't seen her in four years but that didn't mean he wanted to live with her. Despite that they were close in age, he always felt like a little kid around her. Probably because she had grown up with mature, old adults instead of like him, growing up with parents like his mom and dad. She didn't feel the need to talk a lot, but when she did speak everyone listened. They listened the same way people listen to the old people at the usual age to die. To Sam, Alene was an old person in a young person's body.

So when his father Ron called him after school to pick Alene up from the airport, Sam was scrambling for an excuse he could use if his dad asked him to do the same thing for his grandma.

"Uh, I can't dad," Sam said walking towards the yellow Camaro, "I'm giving Makayla a ride home, Bumblebee hasn't seen her in ages."

"Uh-huh, well you could introduce Makayla to Alene, and Bumblebee hasn't ever seen her. So I guess now she won't have to stay stranded at the airport, easy prey for the creepers out there."

"Alright dad first thing," Bumblebee buckled Sam in, impatient and drove next to the building Makayla's welding class was in, "this isn't animal planet, and she can call a cab. And second, unless there is an extreme world ending circumstance, Alene will never have to 'meet' Bee at all," Makayla got into Bee as quietly as she could, "Besides, Makayla's got a, uh," Farming volunteer project Makayla mouthed, being intentionally un-helpful, "-a wedding to go to and it's in the opposite direction so that just won't work out at all. No, m-mm."

"She's going to a wedding? Who for?"

"Her uncle."

"Liar, liar plants for hire. It's pants on fire Patrick. Whatever." Bumblebee played the short clip.

"Bee! You're not helping!"

"I heard that, go pick up your cousin. Bumblebee might not just be a car but I can ground you from him all the same."

*Click*

Sam looked at his phone, not believing that his father had actually hung up on him.

" Thanks guys, you were so helpful during that. Well," Sam typed in the directions to the airport in Bee's GPS, "you guys asked for it. Prepare to meet the youngest grandma you'll ever know."