Disclaimer: Me no own following franchises and/or affiliates: Transformers 2007 Movie, Blood and Chocolate, Rise: Vampire Hunter, Vampires the Masquerade: Bloodlines and any works by Amelia Awater-Rhodes.

Summary: (Movieverse AU). In the search for the Allspark, the Decepticons are predators and the Autobots are guardians. Unfortunately for all parties involved, their fates are intertwined with a certain Witwicky who won't stand being prey but won't stick around long enough to be protected. The hunt is on…Inspired by an LJ challenge.

Author Note (A.k.a. explanation/apology for this fic…): Steps to how this came to be: 1) Went on LJ and browsed through the challenges. 2) Watched Blood and Chocolate. 3) Watched Transformers 2007 movie. 4) Watched Rise: Vampire Hunter. 5) Read books by Amelia Atwater Rhodes. 6) Played Vampires the Masquerade: Bloodlines. 7) Everything went into a blender.

Warning: First fic in this fandom. Constructive criticism, as always, is welcomed and appreciated.

Hunt

1: Spike Witwicky

It had been years. Decades, even. He didn't remember exactly how many. That vaguely disturbed him, the fact that he couldn't really remember how many. The days and months and years seemed to blend together, an assortment of watery colours running down the canvas of time, running into each other to produce a deep brown colour, the colour of dried blood. Yes, it did disturb him, but anger would always be at the heels of worry, and anger always drove worry away.

If he couldn't remember how long ago, at least he still remembered how it used to be: his not-as-stern-as-he-looks father tricking him at least once a day, his eccentric-but-well-meaning mother making an awkward situation even more awkward, both sets of parents obsessed with the lawn. The flowers had always been beautiful in the spring and summer, the leaves arranged just so in the fall, and the snow a uniform white in the winter.

Then he remembered snow. Then fire. Fire and silver.

He remembered being hunted.

Forcibly, he wrenched himself from those memories. School would be done in five minutes; five more minutes of listening to the idiotic projects. He grimaced inwardly as the family genealogy reports wore on. He didn't have one done. His family history, even the parts of it that the Camarilla didn't fabricate, made it so that he didn't have to do one.

That was at least one good thing that had happened recently. The other was that the Camarilla finally decided that it was alright for him to turn seventeen years of age.

Spike sighed. At least it was one year closer from disappearing from the foster system for good.

The bell finally rung. As he got up from his seat, he heard some students behind him grumble why "Wit-icky" didn't have to do genealogy report. His shoulders tensed. He wanted to shout at them, At least you have family history! Mine's all in ash! Is that what you want?!

Before they could all leave, the teacher shouted over the hustle and bustle of the students, "Remember people! There may be a pop quiz tomorrow! And Mr. Witwicky, could you stay behind for a few minutes? There's something I would like to speak to you about."

He wilted. The rest of the students left, and he moved towards the teacher's desk, almost tripping over his own bag as he did so.

Some of his kind claimed that all the human awkwardness left them upon Embrace. Not so for him.

"Now Spike," the teacher used his first name in what was supposed to be a soothing tone, but came out patronizing. "In lieu of your circumstances, you have been excused from doing this report. Now, by your ten-minute long request—"(and here the teacher winced, remembering Spike's long rant about why the rest of the class shouldn't be told of his situation)—"your classmates haven't been made aware of those circumstances, and so it's perfectly understandable why they think that you're being excused isn't fair. Now, in turn, it wouldn't be fair for you to blow up at them for something they don't know about. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Spike said. A small part of his mind was seething at the irony. 'Sir?' This guy's younger than I am!

The teacher dismissed him, and Spike was finally free. He was surprised to see a sleek silver car, with its top down, waiting for him outside. The owner of said car leaned against the door, and waved. Spike relaxed when he realized who it was.

"Hey Miles," he greeted, nearing to his best bud of at least twenty years.

"Hey Sa-Spike," Miles said. Spike caught the near slip, but didn't remark on it. Miles had been awfully good to him, before and after the Embrace. It wouldn't be right to get touchy. "You really ought to get a car you know. What happens the next time you miss the bus and I ain't here to save your ass?"

Miles ushered his friend into the passenger seat. To any onlooker, the scene would appear normal: a normal father picking up his normal teenager. The car pulled out of the school's driveway.

Spike shrugged. "Then I'll take a run. It's only a few minutes from here."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Sure, if you pull that trick and upset Gabriel and the Camarilla both in one night."

Spike snorted. "Come on Miles. Ordinary humans wouldn't even know an alien if it danced in front of them all hyped up on caffeine."

There was silence. Spike was somewhat surprised by that. Back in the time when they were both physically the same age, back when they were seventeen, Miles talked non-stop. When did he grow up? Spike thought. The sudden maturity in his friend's eyes unnerved him.

"I got what you were looking for," Miles said with some reluctance.

Spike perked up. "Really?" In contrast to Miles's tone, Spike's words were tinted with disbelief and eagerness.

"Really." Miles reached down into the side pocket of the car, and retrieved a small packet. Spike held it with wonder, and opened the package to reveal an explorer's compass.

"Where did you find it?"

"On eBay," Miles said simply. "You owe me fifty dollars, by the way."

"Thanks, man. With the map and the telescope and the glasses, this finishes the four."

Miles shuddered at his last two words, but recovered quickly enough. "No prob. You really should keep up with the times though. I bet you don't even know what eBay is!"

Spike looked steadily ahead of him, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Whoa. You mean you don't?"

"I don't know Miles," Spike said, shrugging yet again. "Things just seem to…blur together, you know? I don't know what to keep up with any more."

There was silence.

"Hey," Miles's tone brightened again as he brought forth another topic. "You want to head out to a bar tonight? Perhaps pick up some ladies?"

Spike eyed him. "Wouldn't that look a little odd?"

"What? It'll just look like I'm taking my teenage son for some real-life experience."

Spike shook his head. "Sorry, man. I got a date tonight."

"Ouch. What happened to 'bros before hos'?

"Got old the same time you did," Spike said jokingly.

"Hey! I still got moves!"

"Any of them involve climbing trees, oh great squirrel?"

"That was only once!"

The conversation went on with friendly banter until Miles stopped the car at the address where Spike needed to go. As he stepped into the shadows of the house, he didn't hear Miles say, "Be careful, Sam. I really hope you know what you're doing."

X x X

For the longest time, it had been a fruitless search. Bumblebee had spent the better part of the last five years on the planet Earth chasing dead end after dead end.

Captain Archibald Witwicky, the person that they needed to speak to, had disappeared almost a century ago. Since he was an organic being, it was safe for the Autobots to assume that he was dead, and that his glasses which held such precious information had been passed on to his descendants.

However, to his disbelief, Bumblebee had found that Captain Witwicky's line ended at least two decades before the yellow 'bot landed on Earth. Ron and Judy Witwicky had passed away under circumstances that were labelled as 'suspicious,' though no real evidence had been uncovered that there was indeed foul play. Their son, Samuel, had disappeared, and was thought to have met the same fate as his parents.

So Bumblebee had made his way on Earth for the past few years, trying to figure out where the glasses could have gone to. What was left of the Witwicky possessions had been split up, but tracking them down one by one led to more questions than answers. Bumblebee was ready to give up, and to admit that the glasses could have perished in the same fire that consumed the Witwicky line, when something unexpected happened.

A new name popped up in his database in one of his searches. There was a sudden appearance of a "Spike Witwicky" in the same suburb where Ron and Judy Witwicky had once lived. The fact that the appearance roughly coincided with what would have been the fortieth birthday of Samuel James Witwicky seemed insignificant to Bumblebee.

What was important was that perhaps the Witwicky line had not disappeared after all, and perhaps the glasses could still be found.

Unfortunately for both the yellow Autobot and for the Witwicky in question, the same thought would occur to a pair of Decepticons.

Hope you enjoyed! For a long time now, there was a tiny voice in my head going: Well, there are all these fics portraying girl!Sam, Autobot!Sam, Cube!Sam…so why couldn't I portray a ...!Sam. Cyber lollipop goes to the people who can fill in the blank! ;)

Oh, and for those of you who are curious, the challenge was "Anything to Survive," on LJ. Not a direct answer to the challenge, but was inspired by the challenge nevertheless.