For Never
Prologue
By: Landray Depth Charge
Autumn was his favorite time of year.
When the leaves turned miraculous colors and the temperatures began to drop mercifully from their otherwise torturously high standing points during the summer. When the birds began their yearly migration and the wildlife embarked in preparation for the short, not so severe winter of western Nevada. The air was cool, the wind was light, and Bumblebee had never been so scared in all of his millions-of-years-long life.
The screeching of tires sounded mightily as the slick yellow Camaro tore around a corner, listening to the second eruption of rubber versus asphalt squealing as it rang out behind him. The needle pushed beyond sixty in the thirty-five mile-an-hour zone, stop signs and traffic lights disregarded completely by the otherwise law-abiding Autobot. Tonight was not the time to concern himself with the human rules, not with everything at stake.
Sam.
He had to get to Sam.
The car behind him was following close, front bumper only feet behind his aft, like a hound dog on the trail of his prey. Every turn Bumblebee took, every red light he barreled through, this being followed him with relentless persistence and an absence of fear absolute. He was bigger, faster, stronger than the Chevrolet, but none of that mattered now. Bumblebee was not running from Barricade this time. This was not a car chase that would end in a predictable brawl between the two long standing enemies, not by a long shot. The yellow was leading his black and white counterpart to Sam's house.
The situation as of late had turned dire. Ironhide had been sent to gather Will's family to take them to safety, and Prime was tracking down Mikaela. That left only Samuel James Witwicky unattended in the face of such a severe threat.
The cheerful two story home loomed into view, and Barricade skidded to a halt at the curb as the black-striped Autobot bounced into the stone driveway. Urgently, Bumblebee laid down on his horn. Come on, Sam. Wake up and get out here.
It was torment to wait. Both sports cars kept their engines rumbling and warm, knowing that they had a long, fast drive ahead of them in which they needed to be at the top of their game. The police interceptor even revved in impatience.
Finally, a groggy-looking Witwicky boy stumbled out of his front door. "What's it all about, Bee? It's, like, 2 A.M. Dunno about you, but sleeping is a human teenagers favorite pastime."
"I'm sorry, Sam," the Camaro replied sheepishly, his voicebox in far higher functioning than it had been a year ago. "Something important has come up and I have to ask you to come with me."
Sam spotted the black and white cruiser by the curb and froze. "Uh, 'Bee?" he started, trailing off to point at the Decepticon. He'd seen neither hide nor hair of Barricade since before Mission City.
Bumblebee's sensors turned behind him for a moment to gaze at the individual of his charge's worry. "I know, Sam. He's fine. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you." His passenger door swung open.
There was something about the Autobots voice that put the human on edge. Add on to that fact that a well-known enemy was sitting just outside of his driveway (one that had tried to kill him, to boot), and the young man became nervous. "What's going on, 'Bee?"
"The end of the world, Sam. Get in."