Err...hi? *dodges rotten tomatoes* GAH! I'M SO SO SORRY! ...I'm not here. Fuck you Elizabeth. Die, you traitor. Ehem..anyways...I'm super sorry for the late delay! I know I said next update would be like...three months ago! But I started writing this then...writers block. *headdesk* Sorry...

So, this is our update, so enjoy!

Rating: T for now. May increase rating later

Warning: character death, alive!Jazz, mech/mech, mech/femme, mech/human, language, character bashing (Mikaela Banes and Sector Seven), Sparkling Sam, Prime Sam, Half-Human Half-Cybertronian Sam, Femme Sam, Tom-boy Sam, slightly ooc!Sam, Daddy Optimus, Momma Elita, Brother Bumblebee, Sparkling Miles, Multiple OC's

Pairings: Optimus/Elita-One, Ironhide/William, Barricade/Bumblebee, Jazz/Prowl, Sam/?, Miles/?, OC/OC

Disclaimer: The Homunculi Twins don't own the Transformers movie arc. They belong to the wonderful producers and the original Creator of the Transformers series. We do not make a profit from this story. We do, however, own this plot and any and all OC's that pop up.

Note:

"Talking"

'Thought'

"Cybertronian"

"Over the Phone/Reading"

Letter

::Com-link::

Book/Magazine Titles

Flashbacks- start and end

Astrosecond ~.273 seconds

Breem ~8.3 minutes

Cycle ~1.5 minutes

Deca-cycle ~10 minutes

Groon ~1 hour

Joor ~ Hour

Klik ~1.2 minutes

Megacycle ~2.6 hours

Nanoclick/Nano-klik ~1 second

Orbital Cycle ~1 month

Orn ~13 days

Solar cycle ~1 day

Stellar cycle~1 year

Vorn ~83 years

x-(-X-X-)-x

Chapter One

History Lessons and Faulty Speakers

"Samantha! It's time to get up! You have school today!" Judith Witwicky, a forty-year old woman with sandy blonde hair shouted up the stairs at her sleeping daughter. Hearing the loud thump of said daughter falling out of bed, followed by muffled cursing caused the Witwicky matriarch to grin, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head she began to make her way over to the couch to watch last nights Desperate Housewives that she had missed when the doorbell rang.

Rolling her eyes, the woman said, "How many times have I told you two that you don't have to ring the doorbell!" as she said this, she opened the door to stare at the two males on her doorstep.

The first was a tall teenager, just below the six foot mark, with spiky black hair and deep, piercing blue eyes that Judy swore gazed into her soul. He was lightly tanned, thanks to spending any and all time at the lake nearby, with large, rippling muscles on his well defined arms. His bright purple tee-shirt did nothing to hide that fact, and the dark navy blue skinny jeans that hugged his ass didn't help matters either. If Judy hadn't know better, she would have sworn that he was dating her daughter. Sadly, he was gay, which meant that her Samantha wasn't even being considered.

The teenager on the other side of the handsome devil was just a few inches shorter, though still taller than both herself and her precious baby girl, with chin length sandy blonde hair. Like his friends, he had eyes – a dark blue color – that seemed to peer into her soul. He wore a beige shirt that looked as if a giant hand was crushing his waist, along with a pair of baggy blue jeans. Both teenagers had their ears pierced – two regular piercings and two cartilage piercings in each.

They had gotten those piercings the same day that her baby girl had – all three of them had gotten first place in a joint science fair project in ninth grade, and as a reward, they got to pick one thing to get/do. They all decided to pierce the shit out of their ears.

The only good thing was that none of them even so much as thought about tattoos or piercings in other areas.

The sandy haired teen grinned. "'Morning Momma Judy," he said cheerily, reaching out and hugging the woman he considered as a third mom. Judy grumbled underneath her breath about 'insufferable brats' as she returned the hug.

"Morning, Miles, Percy. Sammy should be down soon." Judy informed her daughters best friends, giving the dark haired teen, Percy, a hug as well.

"We kind of figured that out Momma Judy," Percy said, his soft, baritone voice rumbling in his chest, eyes alight with amusement. "We could here ya from down the road." Judy rolled her eyes, beckoning the two in.

"Don't make me get my bat, boys."

Miles and Percy winced, before bowing. "Please forgive us Momma Judy!"

An amused snort sounded from behind Judy, causing all of them to turn around. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen stood a girl with dark brown hair that fell just past her ass when down, though now resting above her waist thanks to the high pony tail. Her chocolate brown orbs glittered with amusement as she took in the cowed boys she called brothers.

"Momma, I will never know what you did with that baseball bat to make those two knuckleheads act like that." Samantha Witwicky said, shaking her head as she did so. The five foot six girl walked past the group, ignoring the sputtering of her brothers into the living room, where her back pack and shoes sat.

Judy smiled at the girl. "Sweetpea, just tell me when you want some lessons, and I'll be happy to oblige."

Sam rolled her eyes at her mother's pet name for her and her eagerness to teach her the 'Ways of a Woman'. "Will do momma." the teen replied, a tad sarcastic. Straightening, she adjusted her black 'Come to the Dark Side; We have Cookies' sleeveless shirt as she walked to her mother.

"By the way, that was a shitty way to wake up." Sam complained, giving her mother a peck on the cheek. Judy laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Shitty for you, hilarious for me baby girl." Judy singsonged, ushering her daughter and 'sons' out of her house. "Now scat, all three of you! I don't want to see you here until after you guys pick out Sammy's new car, ya hear me?"

All three laughed and mock saluted the elder woman, chorusing, "Ma'am yes ma'am!" before hightailing it off of the Witwicky property, laughing as they did so.

Judy chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she closed the door before cackling evilly.

'Desperate Housewives, here I come' she thought.

x-(-X-X-)-x

Sam grinned as she walked with her brothers, her arms interlinked with theirs. "I really do love her." the brunet teenager said happily, blinking her chocolate brown orbs. Besides her, Miles and Percy nodded in agreement, a smile on both of their faces.

"Aye, she is a good femme-Creator," Percy murmured in their language. To anyone who was listening, all they would have heard were clicks and whirrs of what sounded suspiciously like a well tuned engine."You are lucky to have her, Betascream." Miles piped in, moving a strand of hair from his optics.

Sam smiled at her trinemates at the compliments of her adopted femme-Creator and her Designation. It had been five years since she and her siblings had been gifted with their designations by Mother. It had been shortly after they had separated, almost a year since their escape from the Dam, when Mother had entered their dreams during recharge and gifted them with their designations.

Mother had never known what to call them before; she only called them her 'Precious Sparklings' – still does. Mother said that, because they were the first of their kind, the first Cybertronian-Human hybrids, she had wanted to give them a befitting name. They had waited so very long for their designations, and when they had gotten them, it had been worth the wait.

Sapphire had been designated 'She who leads the Pack of the Waves' or 'Alphawave'. 'Third in Command of Vibrations' (Gammasound) and 'The Sixth body of Water' (Zetastream) were given to Michael and Rhys, while Kaylie was given the designation 'Alchemist' or 'Discover of Knowledge both Ancient and New'. Ever caring, gentle Zenaide was a given designation; 'Healer of Primus/God' or 'Raphael'. Everyone of us agreed that it was perfect for our Chief Medic. The Femme Twins, Elizabeth and Danielle were given the designations 'Thunderblade' or 'Rumbling in the Sky, cutting away her enemies' and 'Skyblade', which basically meant the same thing, only it was 'Sharp edge of the Air'. Nicolas greatly enjoyed is designation, living up to it every day. 'Shining light of loud proportions' or 'Silverboom'. It still baffled their minds on how such a loud, playful mech like Silver could be so quiet and serious at times.

Edward and Eden, the Mech Twins, proudly wore their designations of 'Archangel' and 'Havenfire' ('Pillar of strength to all he cares about' and 'Safety of home, burning passions of Primus/God'). When Percy had heard his designation, he had laughed at how fitting it was – 'Seastroke' or 'Infinite expanse of water and Passion with just a stroke of his wings'. It didn't help that he was an excellent swimmer either.

'Deltastreaker' or 'Fourth of the Speed of Primus/God' was befitting for the ever rambling Miles, as was her 'Betascream' or 'Second Pitch of the Trine'.

All of their names fitted them in some way; wither it be personality or interests.

"Indeed so Delta, 'Stroke." Sam replied cheerily, before sobering. "Did you guys receive the transmission from Alchemist and Raphael last night?" She had been feeding her Chihuahua, Mojo, his pain medications when the databurst arrived, causing her to drop the pills in surprise. Usually, they didn't receive any transmissions from the others until they were all in recharge where the information was passed along from one sibling to the next.

"Yes, I received it during the evening meal," Percy said, while Miles nodded. "I was playing Halo when I got the databurst. I lost to some players who say their actual soldiers stationed in Qatar thanks to it. And I was totally winning to!" Miles whined, causing his trinemates to smile in amusement.

Miles was addicted to video games just like how Percy was addicted to hacking government files and screwing with their minds by switching/renaming all their files and how Sam was addicted to her Anime. Granted, all three of them liked Anime ever since Rhys introduced it to them when they were in Japan, but Sam bordered on obsessive.

"So what to do you make of it?" the hybrid asked, looking at her brothers. Miles and Percy glanced at each other, before looking at the youngest of the hybrids.

"Well..." Miles started hesitantly. "We think it has something to do with the Corrupted One and Mother." Sam felt her eyes narrow as Percy nodded his head in agreement.

"That's what I thought as well, though I was hoping it wasn't." Sam said warily, an air of reluctant defeat in her voice. Her trinemates knew how she felt; it was bad enough that they had to watch over the Dam to make sure that the Humans stationed there didn't create more of Hybrids or the Cybertronian Sparklings, along with making sure that the Corrupted One didn't awaken from his stasis. But now with strange transmissions floating around talking about Mother and the Corrupted One, they didn't really know what to expect. Their knowledge on their Cybertronian halves were spotty at best, thanks to Mother being weak and unable to communicate very well with its precious sparklings.

"Do you think we should visit the Dam and Mother?" Miles asked curiously, though a hint of trepidation was heard as well. Samantha sighed, carding a hand through her pony tail. "I don't know Delta, but I'll talk to Alpha during recharge tonight and see if we should. I, personally, don't want to go, but if there is something out there wanting to wake up the Corrupted One and/or use Mother for creating more hybrids, we have to act. We cannot let what happened to us happen to any others." Percy and Miles nodded in agreement with their Two-Eye-Cee's words.

"Hey, did anybody understand question twenty-two in their Lit work?" Percy asked, switching back to English as they arrived closer to their destination; Tranquility High School. Sam groaned and shook her head while Miles looked a little panicked.

"No/We had homework?!" came the simultaneous response. Sam and Percy both looked at the panicking hybrid, a smirk on their lips. Samantha sighed and shook her head mockingly, taunting in a mock-disappointed way. "Miles, Miles, Miles. You need to learn how to pay attention in class." she chided playfully, even as she and Percy sent a databurst to their trinemate.

"And to stop obsessing over Halo," Percy chimed in, his sapphire blue eyes glittering in amusement.

Miles whined pitifully, though he sent a wave of gratitude down their link when he received their burst. "Shut up! Halo is my life! And it is, like totally not my fault! I totally remembered about the Geometry, Economics, Spanish, and History homework! You can't blame me for not being aware during first period! It's too early!"

Sam and Percy rolled their eyes at their whining trinemate, ignoring the looks/jeering of their fellow peers who were either looking lustfully or hatefully at them and/or catcalling/taunting them. Most of the school considered Sam and Percy to be 'pretty smoking hot', with Miles being 'average looking', though all three were regarded as 'total nerds'. Not like they cared – it was their opinion, and every deserved to have said opinion.

"Miles, stop whining." Percy scolded as they reached his locker. Ignoring the graffiti that had, once again, popped up 'mysteriously', he quickly and easily opened it and placed his pre-midday meal supplies – textbooks, homework, etc. – inside the small blue locker, only keeping the books and homework he needed for post-midday meal. Miles looked at Percy with a kicked puppy look, which was instantly shot down by the black haired boy's 'are you kidding me?' look.

"Don't even try it Miles; you look ridiculous." Percy deadpanned, causing Miles to hang his head in defeat. Sam snickered at the defeated look, patting the moping blonde's back.

"Come Miles, we've gotta grab our stuff to." Miles looked up at his little sister, who was already walking towards their lockers, which were seventeen down from Percy, but only four away from each other. When he turned to look at Percy, he gaped when he saw that he was left by himself.

"Gah! Wait for me, you slaggers!" he yelped, quickly hightailing towards his siblings. Sam and Percy grinned at him, causing Miles to roll his eyes.

"Slaggers," he muttered underneath his breath, causing the oldest and youngest of his Trine to cackle – yes, cackle – behind him. Why in the name of Primus, was he stuck with those two?

x-(-X-X-)-x

Sam felt like bashing her head against her desk. It was her last class of the day, History, and it was only now that she realized one thing; she forgot her genealogy report at home. Slaggit all to the Pit! She could hear both her trinemates snickering at her misfortune while pushing some of their nanites into her so she could recreate everything that she needed to.

Sam groaned quietly, grabbing her backpack and placing it in her lap, half listening to Tiffany Wells, the girl before her, gave a report on her great-great-great grandmother, Kristina D. Eclair, who did something or another in France with someone whose name she had already forgotten. Placing her hand in the black and orange bag, she grabbed five blank pages of notebook paper and pushed her nanites into it, concentrating on shaping the nanites into the words that she knew by spark/processor onto it. It took only three minutes of the fifteen minutes Wells had to give her report.

Removing her hand from her paper, she closed her eyes and concentrated on creating the items that she should have brought with her to school. 'Slag you Mojo, you crackhead!' she mentally yelled at her dog who, she swore on Primus himself, was addicted to his pain meds. She felt her trinemates silent laughter increase at her misfortune, even as they lent her more of their nanites.

::Thank you guys,:: she said, her 'voice' already showing the small stain it was having on her to manipulate her nanites even further. She already had to have over three-quarters of her nanites working overtime to keep her holoform from dispersing – having to use more just to get her homework turned in was, in the words of one of her favorite Anime characters, troublesome.

::No problem little Sister:: Percy replied. ::You would do the same for us.:: Miles sent a wave of comfort and agreement through their bond, which caused Sam to smile gently. She had just finished the last of the seven items she had brought of her grandfathers when Mr. Honsey, a balding man in his late forties, called her up. Sighing, the brunet stood, easily ignoring the jeering and taunts of her peers and walked over to the podium, pulling on a pair of white gloves as she did so. Once there, she began to put her recently created 'artifacts' on the podium, easily dodging the rubber band that was sent her way by the schools number one bully, Trent DeMarco.

Ignoring the mans' cry of 'Maturity!', Samantha turned her chocolate brown gaze onto the class, who quickly fell silent.

"The name Witwicky has not always been around; in fact, the surname 'Witwicky' didn't appear until the early seventeenth century in Scandinavia. Before Witwicky, there were many names; some that you may or may not recognize from historical points in time. Wither it be entrepreneurs, extortionists, spies, generals, commanders, kings, queens, nobles, consorts, leaders, slaves, explorers, or historians, the Witwicky family has always been involved in some kind of world changing point of time. My many times great-aunt, Elizabeth DeLucia of France was King Edward II of England's consort, while my many times great-grandfather was friends with Julius Caesar, as well as his chief Historian. While the trail to my family grows cold in certain periods of time, I have been able to uncover ancient texts written by the hand of Pharaoh Nebhetepre Mentuhotep II's chef wife – Tem, boring the titles of 'hmt-nswt' or 'King's Wife', 'hmt-nswt mryt.f' 'King's wife, his beloved', and 'wrt-Hts-nbwi' or 'Great one of the hetes-sceptre of the two Lords' detailing the uprising that accord in her husbands fourteenth year of ruling that involve my ancestors.

"However, I am not going to tell you about Queen Tem, or many times great-grandfather Gnaeus Aelius, or even my many times removed cousins, King Edward V and Richard of Shrewsbury, Duke of York. Instead, I'm going to tell you about a man who led a crew of forty-one brave men to the unexplored territory of the Arctic Circle. Now, many of you may be thinking 'who cares?' or 'Egypt is cooler than the Arctic!' but you have to understand; Egypt was already known. The Arctic was a mystery. No one truly knew what lay upon the icy floor, and back than, it was a miracle that twenty-six men returned alive out of the forty-one who started the journey. For them, the Arctic Circle was as mysterious as space is to us."

Percy and Miles looked around in amusement; their youngest sister had the entire classes attention in the palm of her hand. They watched as she picked up a picture frame, where a gray and white photo of an elderly man with round glasses in a traditional captain garb stood proudly, his hat tucked underneath his arm.

"It was in eighteen-ninety-seven that my great-great-grandfather, Captain Archibald Witwicky, age forty-nine, began the long journey from his home of Netherlands to the Circle; a journey that took them seven years to complete." Sam's voice was smooth, holding just the right amount of emotion to give her tale depth. Letting her eyes run over the class, she picked up the one-hundred year old map that was an exact replica of the one she had forgotten at home. Opening it gently – since only three people in the room knew that this wasn't the actual map, she had to treat the stupid thing like it was – she showed it to the awestruck classroom.

"This map was hand drawn by the Captain himself, and, as you can see, showed his exact route and his notes, which are written in Dutch. It took them a year and a half to reach here," she pointed towards a faded black dote near the center of the map. "The words written there are Kapitein Logboek, or 'Captain's Logbook' with the date of oh-four January eighteen-eighty-eight, which is the day they landed." Setting down the map, the brunet, picked up a leather bound journal, with 'Archibald Witwicky' scrawled across the cover in gold ink.

Opening it, Samantha cleared her throat. "Oh-four January of the Year Eighteen-eighty-eight, Captain's Log Entry Five-Hundred Forty-seven. Finally, after months of sailing in these Gods forsaken waters we have arrived at the No-Mans land. My crew and I, once a solid forty-one, now down to thirty-four and dwindling, rejoiced when Falman cried the fated words that we have been starving to hear for months with a bottle of milady's finest brew. I me-self indulged in my Angelica's mead, though did not take more than a sip. I have explored the surrounding area, from what little my eyes can see, and am dismayed to find so much white. I fear that when I get home to my wife's warm bosom, I will never be able to look at the snow again.

"The Dogs are only a handful of what we brought with us now – two of the mutts passed on today from the cold. I fear that by the time we return home, there will be none left. There is not much to tell from what I can see, though I fear that if the Betsy is not in constant motion, she will become frozen in these Gods forsaken waters. By the Gods, I pray I do not freeze myself, as it seems like all the warmth in my body is constantly being sucked out of me, leaving me shivering even with the layers of coats I wear." Sam looked up as she closed the journal, gently placing it upon the desk. "As you can no doubt deduce, the constant threat of death, wither it be by starvation, scurvy, or hypothermia was ever present for my grandfather and his crew."

"They spent four years traveling the Circle, before they were able to leave. They took many samples of the ice and what little vegetation was found. To this day, if you were to trace exactly where Archibald traveled with his crew, you would find the frozen remains of the eight crew-man who died during the four years – in near perfect condition no doubt thanks to the preservation the ice would have made." Sam said this thoughtfully, before snapping her attention back to hand.

"Right, back to business. Now this is my great-great-grandfather's sextant," she ignored the snorts of laughter from some of her more immature classmates. "which is a navigational instrument used to measure the angle of elevation of celestial bodies, usually the sun or moon, in order to determine one's location and direction. The sextant is usually paired with the compass and the telescope, which helps give a more accurate location for the captain. Now, while the sextant is my grandfathers, a family heirloom passed from father to son, or mother to daughter depending on the situation, the compass was a gift given to Archibald by my great-grandfather, Clarence Witwicky, when Archibald left for the Circle. The telescope, on the other hand, belonged to my great-great grandmother, Angelica Witwicky nee Addams. And no, she is not, by any means, related to the Addams family." Samantha gave a deadpanned look at the devastated looks on a few of her classmates faces.

"Anyway, just as my grandfather began to make the journey home, they got stuck – a giant, unexpected storm froze the ship where it rested." Sam picked up the notebook again, flipping through the pages until she reached one that was marked with a leaf.

"Twelfth of September of the Year Eighteen-ninety-two, Captain's Log Two-thousand and seventy-four. The Devil has struck. We are trapped. Upon awaking this morning, I and my crew were dismayed to find that, as we slept blissfully unaware, a storm of epic proportions froze the Betsy to the sea. Even as I write this, my men are hurrying into the belly of Betsy to grab the axes so we may hopefully break our way through. Half of the crew will begin hacking away the Devil's Ice, while the other half will stay upon the ship, heating the ice we are already beginning to haul up so we may melt the ice to free ourselves. We will be switching jobs, so that the men do not get to tired, and get a chance to rest. Even I would be unable to continue to hack away in the ice for more than three hours, and I am in my fifties."

Sam gently set the journal down again. "For two days they hacked away at the snow, alternating every two hours or so allowing the men to get rest. According to my grandfathers' and his first mates', Reginald Danco, journals, the ice would 'freeze faster then we were able to hack at it'. It was on the third day that my great-grandfather's logs stopped. According to Reginald's log, which I, unfortunately, do not have as it is with his great-great-grandson, my grandfather discovered something that terrified him."

Holding up two pieces of paper with, to those who weren't in the know, looked like weird hieroglyphs, and a newspaper, she said calmly, "He called it, the Ice Man. Whatever it was that my grandfather saw, drove him to insanity. Not even seven months after returning home, he was carted off to a mental institution, where he later died, but not before writing down these strange markings. No one has been able to descriptor what it means, though many linguistics and historians believe that it is similar, like a sister language, to ancient Egyptian.

"Three months prior to my great-great-grandfather's imprisonment, he wrote on over one-hundred and sixty pieces of paper, both front and back, these glyphs. Even though he was considered to be a 'black sheep' of the family after his bout of insanity, my great-grandfather, grandfather, my father, uncles, aunts, and even myself, have to wonder if there was some truth to what Archibald was spouting off.

"Because, not even thirty years after his death, a series of glyphs, so like the ones he had been writing down, were discovered in the catacombs of Rome."

Silence descended upon the class, all eyes trained on the brunet, who slowly picked up the cracked glasses of her great-great-grandfather. "If I had one wish in the world, it would be have to be the power of seeing the history of an object. To see what these glasses that my grandfather once had, to see what it had seen. It would be a tale all its own. And that is the end of my oral report."

The words had no sooner left her mouth when the loud chime of the final bell sounded, startling most of the class; including the teacher.

Mr. Honsey blinked dumbly at the clock, just now realizing that it was indeed two-thirty and that yes, class was over before shaking his head. "Okay, might be a pop quiz tomorrow, might not! Sleep in fear tonight!" He hollered at his students, who all gave a collective groan of disgust at the thought of another pop quiz. Raising a hand, he beckoned Sam over from where she was putting away her great-great-grandfather's junk with the help of Percy and Miles. "Witwicky, over here."

Sam stood in front of her teacher's desk, as he took a look at her genealogy report, rocking gently on her heels. When the balding man finally looked up, he gave the girl a short grin.

"A, Witwicky. A great report, thoroughly detailed, nothings to long or to short, and you got the entire class to shut up to listen to you, which is an achievement in of itself." Mr. Honsey said, handing her back his grading paper, a giant red A on the top right hand corner. Sam gave a silent cheer, grinning widely at him.

"Thanks Mr. Honsey!" The man chuckled, watching as one of his favorite students quickly bounded over to her friends, proudly displaying the solid red 'A' on it before, with a final wave and a 'have a good day' from all three, they left.

Sam laughed out loud, her bright brown eyes sparkling in mischief and excitement. "New car, here I come~!" she sing-songed, all but skipping out of the school towards her father's nineteen sixteen Austin Healey three-thousand MKII, which idled softly in front of the school parking lot.

"It's an A?" the man questioned, giving a slight, pointed glare at the two boys his daughter considered her 'brothers' who were climbing into the back of his car. Both teens held up their hands in mock surrender, making sure to be extra careful to not mess up Papa Ron's 'precious'. Sam nodded, grinning victoriously.

"It's an A!" Ron glanced at his daughter, before pretending to scrutinize the paper. "You didn't get someone to forge this, did you?" Sam scowled and whacked her father on his arm.

"No, I did not!" she pouted, absently reaching behind her to smack her brothers for laughing. "So that means new car, right? Right?" Ron chuckled, starting up his car and pulling out of the school, nodding.

"Yes baby girl. New car." Sam cheered happily, as did her friends. Ron rolled his eyes as the three teen's began to absentmindedly chat with one another. Teenagers...

x-(-X-X-)-x

"Daddy...you love me, right?" Sam asked, her face blank. Behind her, her brothers were struggling vainly to contain their loud guffaws of laughter. Ron looked at his daughter in confusion, slowly nodding his head.

"Yes..." Sam wordlessly pointed her left pointer finger at three different, beat up cars.

"That car over there is a forty-year old virgin, the one next to it is a fifty-year old virgin, and that one all the way in the corner? Yeah, that one's a gonna die a virgin." the brunet deadpanned. Ron gave his daughter a small, cheeky grin.

"Well, I know which one I want you to get." Samantha gave her father a flat look. Behind her, Miles and Percy were leaning on each other for support having lost the battle.

"Really dad?"

"Sorry baby girl." Ron said, not sounding sorry at all. Sam hmph'ed in response, but obediently followed her father when he began walking towards a tall, heavy set black man wearing a black button up shirt with yellow leaves, a hat that matched the shirt a little to well, and pair of brown khaki pants.

"Welcome to Bolivia's!" the man said, a one-thousand watt salesman smile on his face. "Like the country, only without the runs." Sam rolled her eyes as the man chuckled to himself at his joke, though abruptly stopped when he noticed it fell flat. He opened his mouth to no doubt ask them what they were doing, when an expression of annoyance and frustration crossed his face.

Turning around the man shouted out, "Hey hey Manny!"

A skinny, black haired Mexican man stepped out of the shop, wiping his hands on a dirty neckerchief as called out an annoyed, "What?"

"Get yer clown of a cousin outta that clown costume! Havin' a heat stroke again, scarin' the white folks!" the black man shouted, and seemed to pointedly ignore Manny's cousin call back with a retort Sam couldn't quite hear over the roar of the engines of the multitude of cars driving past them. Something about 'melting' and 'makeup'. Absently, Sam wished that she was in one of those cars driving past this shabby past.

Her brothers' agreed with her.

Sam returned her attention to the black man, who was once again smiling winningly back at them.

"I'm Bobby B. How may I help you this fine day."

Ron reached around and clasped a hand onto Sam's shoulder, ignoring the disgruntled look the younger sent him. "My daughter's looking to buy her first car." Ron said proudly. Sam squashed the feeling of childish happiness when she noticed the hint of pride in her father's voice.

Bobby pointed to himself, a look of fake astonishment on his greasy face. "So you came to see me?"

"Kinda had to," Sam muttered forlornly. The man brightened up considerably and stuck his hand out, shaking hers vigorously. "That practically makes us family. Uncle Bobby B baby, Uncle Bobby B." When the man finally released her hand, she discreetly wiped the (hopefully) sweat and oil onto her pants.

"Now, as you're lookin' for your first vehicle, let Uncle Bobby B give you some advice." 'Uncle' Bobby B wrapped an arm around her shoulder, gesturing to his parking lot of shabby, run down cars. "A driver don't pick the car. Mmm-mm, no, the car picks the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine...or in this case, woman and machine." Bobby laughed his deep laugh again at some obscure inside joke Sam wasn't even going to try and figure out. She felt the exasperation and slight anger over the bond between her siblings when the man's arm lingered a bit too long on her shoulder.

As 'Uncle' Bobby B wondered towards some of his other cars with her dad, Sam, Miles, and Percy went in the other direction.

"He hates me." Sam said simply, shoving Miles hard enough to stumble when the blonde punched her shoulder.

"He doesn't hate you Sammy," Percy said, rolling his eyes at the deadpanned look on her face.

"Uh-huh." Sam said disbelievingly. Percy opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when they felt it.

A pulse.

It was faint, barely there as it was being hidden, but it was there. The steady thrum of a spark nearby. Immediately, the three were wary, their eyes shifting from car to car in the parking lot, trying to pinpoint the source.

::There:: Sam's eyes were locked on a beat up, but still nicer looking canary yellow with black racing stripes 1970 Chevrolet Camaro sitting innocently besides a yellow, 1979 Volkswagen bug with black racing strips.

::Do you think it's one of Them? The ones Mother told us about?:: Miles asked, curiosity and hope in his voice. Sam gave a mental shrug, as did Percy.

::I don't know Delta; it could be one of Them, or it could be another of Sector Seven's experiments that managed to escape.:: Percy said. We turned to look at each other, and as one, knew what to do.

"Oh my god!" Sam cried out, her eyes lighting up with childish glee. "Dad, look!" She rushed to the yellow and black Camaro, letting one hand trail from the left headlight to the windshield, a flash of shock and amusement traveling down the bond when she felt the car shiver at the action, its hidden spark thrumming in pleasure at the light caress.

Ron and Bobby made their way over to the brunet who, along with her brothers, was admiring the car. Bobby was grinning widely, no doubt smelling a sale in the air like a bloodhound to a fox.

"It's got racing stripes Sam," Miles said as he too ran his fingers over the hood, marveling at the shiver the spark gave. Sam grinned and opened the driver side door, easily slipping into the leather cushion. Her clothed legs lost their tenseness as the seat seemed to magically adjust to her body, and with slightly hesitant movements, placed her hands in the three and nine o'clock positions on the obviously custom steering wheel.

Her eyes fluttered closed, the data flowing from her servos into her processor, the shock, amazement, circuit wary fatigue, sadness, happiness, everything flowed from the hidden spark into her own. Her eyes opened again after what seemed like eons of the feeling him, but was only seconds, and with gentle ease, wiped away the grim on the horn of the car, her grin widening when she saw the solemn face staring back at her.

::It's time:: Sam said to her siblings, awe tinging her voice over the comm. link, though aloud she whispered to the hidden Autobot, "We have long awaited your arrival, Scout of the Autobots and the Last True Prime." She felt the confusion and shock, along with wariness and slight fear, radiating from the yellow bot, so with another, final stroke, whispered. "All will be explained later, little 'bot, we promise on Her spark."

The fear dimmed to near non-existence, though the confusion and shock only rose as the hidden bot's spark fluttered in wary acceptance. He would wait...for now.

Sam returned her attention to Bobby, who was looking in confusion at the car, his voice fading near the end of his, "Yeah it's got racing stripes..." Bobby frowned, his dark brown eyes filled with confusion and the lust for money. "Wait, I've never seen this car before...Hey hey Manny!"

The Mexican man came back out, looking annoyed. "What?"

"Where the hell did this car come from?" Bobby demanded. His response was a shrug of the mechanic's shoulders and a loud "I don' know boss! Never seen it in me life!"

Ron glanced warily at the man, then back at his daughter, who was looking fondly at the Camaro's bumblebee freshener on its mirror. "How much?" he asked the car dealer, who, after a moment of hesitation, straightened and smiled his best car selling smile.

"Well, considering the semi-classic nature o' the vehicle, the slick wheels, custom paint job – "

"The paints faded," Sam interrupted. Bobby leaned down and looked at Sam through the passenger window. "But it's custom."

"Custom faded?" Sam asked incredulously.

Bobby waved his hand dismissively. "You're a girl, I won't expect you to understand."

Sam felt a flash of anger wash over her from her bonds with her brothers and the yellow Autobot's spark, mixing together like a glass of chocolate milk with her own. So what if she was girl!? She knew the insides and out of most machines out there and was a Witwicky, even if it wasn't by blood; more than half her family were mechanics or worked with machines on a daily basis! Not only that, she was half machine herself!

Bobby cleared his throat uncomfortably at the glares he received, so said "Five grand."

Ron felt a grimace and a brief flash of guilt, which was ruthlessly squashed, as he shook his head. "Not going over four."

"Dad/Papa Ron!" the three teens called out, their eyes looking at Ron with disbelief and sadness.

Bobby shrugged and said, "Then you don't get the car." He patted the hood of the car and snapped to Sam and her friends, "Come on girlie, boys, outta the car."

"No way!" Sam protested, her grip tightening on the wheel. "You said that cars pick the drivers!" Percy spoke up, leaning up against the back of Sam's seat.

"Yeah, well sometimes they pick a one with a cheap-ass driver. Get out of the car." Bobby said, making his way over to the car next to him, blathering on about something she really didn't care about.

Sam grumbled and got out of the car, gently caressing the wheel with her hand. "If you want answers, you better make sure that I can buy you." she muttered, helping her brothers out of the Autobot. She felt a flash of grim acceptance, causing a smile to tug at the edges of her lips.

"There's a Fiesta over there with racing stripes," Ron said in an attempt to placate his daughter. Sam leveled a deadpanned expression on the elder male.

"I do not want a Fiesta with racing strips, I want the Camaro." She shut the door with force, watching with grim satisfaction as the passenger side door slammed open into the very car Bobby Bolivia was sitting in, causing him to yelp.

"Holy cow, you alright?" Ron asked, walking over to help the man out. Bobby laughed and waved his concerns off.

"Don't worry, nothing to worry bout. Hey hey Manny! Get yer clown of a cousin and come bang out these dents!" Bobby said, giving his weird, ehehehe laugh. "Now, there's a nice Volkswagen over here – " Bobby started, though Sam tuned him out, turning her attention to the Camaro's flickering radio station.

"Guys..." she said, her eyes flickering over to her brothers. They nodded and immediately, they turned their audio receptors down to a normal human level. They were infinitely glad when, not even seconds later, a loud piercing sound emitted from the speakers of the yellow car, causing the windows on every other car to shatter and the humans and Hybrids in disguise to clasp their hands over their ears, wincing at the noise.

Bobby looked around, shocked, his face paling rapidly before he spun around, his hand shaking as he held up four fingers. "F-four thousand!"

Sam grinned, discretely fist bumping her brothers and patting the Camaro's hood.

Now all she had to do was explain what was going on to a no doubt over two-story giant metal robot.

Peace of cake.

x-(-X-X-)-x

So how was it? Good? Bad? Have Hulk smash? Liz, this is Transformers, Hulk isn't going to cum and smash a Transformers fanfiction. Shut it, Hulk can smash whatever the fuck he wants! Weirdo...ehem, anyways, please review!

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Love,

The Twins :3