Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry about the delay! Thanksgiving Day was supposed to be one chapter, but there was just too much going on and it ended up being a two and a half. :P So to make up for it, here's one extra-long (4K words) monster of a chapter. :) The rest of Thanksgiving will be chapter 15. (Anodythe, the end of the chapter is just for you, and it gets better in the next one.) ;) Enjoy!

P.S. The Transformers are REAL! :D Seriously, Darthishtar processed an order today at work for man by the name of Camden Romero. It made us both laugh, so we had to share. :D

"Slag," Mom grumbled, shuffling around bottles in the fridge. "Tell me we have green olives for the relish tray. They're Arcee's favorite."

I checked the cupboard, pulling out an unopened glass jar. "Here you go."

"Whew," she grinned, placing it on the counter beside the cans and bottles of black olives, cranberry sauce, beets, and dill pickle spears. "Gotta make a good impression on the new guys."

Alien robot warriors coming for Thanksgiving dinner, and she was worried about the olives and lamenting that she didn't have enough place settings in her fine china. I shook my head at her. Only my mom – the Autobot den mother.

A half a dozen pies sat on the counter cooling, and they would soon be joined by three more pies that Mrs. Epps was baking in her oven for us. Ironhide and Dad were setting up two turkey fryers in the back yard, and I was just about to put the yams and turkey-dressing in the oven. When Mom baked for the Autobots, she went all out.

"Was there ever a time when you doubted?" I asked her kind of randomly.

"Doubted what?" she replied, setting out the frozen dinner rolls to rise.

"The Autobots. I mean, you let them into your home, into your family. Did you ever worry about…well…Ironhide going postal or dropping me on my head or something?"

She sniggered. "Who says he didn't?" I rolled my eyes, and she answered more seriously, "No. Not since the first time I gave Ironhide a wash and wax. To be honest – and I'll deny it if you ever repeat it – I pitied them. Their home world was destroyed, Annabelle. They're refugees." She threw the empty bag for the rolls in the garbage can and pulled the plastic wrap out of the cupboard to cover the rising bread. "For all their metallic nature and soldier mentality, they're stray puppies at heart. They needed not just a planet – which they had thousands to choose from – but a home. I might be a primitive, alien organic to them, but the things that make a house a home are universal." Putting the plastic wrap away, she turned to face me. "I opened my home to them and they responded. Probably wouldn't work with every 'bot, and I'm sure some humans wouldn't have the patience for them, but…"

"But you can see below the surface."

She tilted her head curiously. "That's what your dad says. And he says you have that ability, too."

"He's correct on both counts," Hyde said from the kitchen door. "And Spitfire or not, you'll have me to answer to if I ever hear you call me a stray puppy again."

"Who said I did?" Mom asked, smiling sweetly and innocently batting her eyelashes. "Tough old fragger of a walking cannon a stray puppy? Pshaw!"

"That's more like it," he rumbled in approval. Glancing at the counter, he said, "You do have ice cream for the apple pie, right?"

"Not for a tough old fragger of a walking cannon, I don't," Mom teased. "But for my husband's best friend who takes refuge in my kitchen, yes."

Amiably grumbling about going elsewhere to be insulted, he stalked back outside – but not before snatching a cookie off the plate Mom had sitting out.

…

The new guys arrived a few minutes later, and Mom and I went to the front yard to greet them. It was always interesting to see what they came up with for their various holoforms. Jolt went for African-American (he was close with the Epps') and Wheeljack had gone for Chinese. Three of the unfamiliar holoforms were Caucasian, but one was African-American and the other looked surprisingly Indian – he'd blend in on the streets of Mumbai just as easily as he would here on the base. R.C., 'Bee, and Mia were with them, though Mia went in search of Hyde almost immediately. Mom walked right up to the unfamiliar femme who had green eyes and an Italian look about her and extended her hand. "Glad you could make it. My name's Sarah Lennox."

"Rebecca Segretti," she softly answered, shaking Mom's hand with a very feminine bend to her wrist. "But you can call me RaFly. It's my nickname."

"Nice to meet you." Turning to the male holoform with light-brown hair next to her, Mom smiled and said, "Welcome. I'm Sarah Lennox. And you are?"

"Caleb Kuhn," the mech answered, awkwardly taking Mom's hand. "My other designation is Hound."

"Name," she corrected. "We humans generally use the word 'name' when referring to sentients. Designations are for things, though people will understand what you mean." She added, "And Caleb is very appropriate, Hound. Good job."

The next mech, the African-American, shook her hand with a little more confidence. "My name is Troy Breaker."

"I'm Sarah Lennox. And very nice," Mom answered in approval as she released his hand. "That's as close as Aaron Hyde."

"Amir Raja, at your service," the Indian-looking mech graciously said, taking her hand with both of his.

I fought a giggle and Mom was clearly flustered. "That's a little over the top, Mirage, though the name works very well. You might want to throttle back on the charm. Something like, 'It's a pleasure to meet you.' And only one hand unless you're attempting to initiate a mating relationship."

He dropped her hand like it burned him while the other 'bots chuckled, but Mom caught his right hand again and modeled shaking it. "No offense taken, friend. You've been watching movies, haven't you."

Nodding guiltily, he tried again. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lennox."

Bobbing her head once in approval, she looked at the other mechs. "Did you catch that? Mirage was exactly right there. If there's any apparent confusion regarding body language or relationships, go with being more formal in US culture. But please, call me Sarah today. Or Spitfire."

Turning to the last of the newcomers, a lean blond holoform who was built like a surfer, she extended her hand. "Thank you for coming. My name is Sarah Lennox, though my friends call me Spitfire."

"My name is Evan Call, though my friends call me Evac."

Mom smiled. "Taking a page out of Jolt's book. It suits you." Gesturing me forward, she said,

"And you all know my daughter, Annabelle. She also goes by Firebrand. She and I are both happy to field any questions you might have. Watch us for social cues as needed. The children – younglings – who will be coming today don't have clearance to know about you, so this will be a good test-run of your integration readiness. If you have to jump in or out of your holoforms, do so from within a closed bathroom. And try to use human terminology as much as possible. Today you can get away with using 'slag' and 'sparkling,' but it will make you stand out in a real-world setting."

Squaring her shoulders, Mom continued, "For your next assignment, you'll be in an urban setting surrounded by humans, and you'll be using your holoforms extensively. We don't have much time to train you on human interaction, so ask every question you can think of and don't be afraid to practice on the adults. R.C. and Mia have spent a lot of time in their holoforms due to the nature of their alt-modes, so practice with them, too."

Mom glanced at 'Bee, er, Cam Romero, for approval, and he nodded. There was nothing he wanted to interject just yet, so she said, "One last thing. To my human faction's leaders, you are refugees. To other humans you might visit while on assignment, you will be guests. But here, under my roof, you are family. Now…" Looking over Bumblebee's team, she smiled warmly and invited, "Won't you come in?"

…

The next hour was spent watching my mom play human-training drill sergeant. She went over everything from basic body language to how humans value their privacy to what topics weren't socially acceptable. (When Evac asked why humans were sensitive about things like sex and bowel movements, Mom chalked it up to the bit about privacy. Didn't quite seem adequate to me, but it apparently made sense to the 'bots, and that's what really mattered.)

Then I brought in the plate of cookies, a stack of glasses, and a jug of milk and Mom coached them on eating. They were all amazed by the flavor and texture, but they got crumbs everywhere. I mean, Hound…Caleb looked like Cookie Monster. I'd have to vacuum as soon as we were done here. Except around RaFly…er…Rebecca. Just like the feminine handshake, she had cultured, dainty nibbling down to a science. She must have been watching movies, too, though I'd bet money they weren't the same ones as Mir…Amir. Half-way through, Arcee sent me a text. /You should have seen Wheeljack when he tried to swallow for the first time and choked. Ratchet couldn't resist showing off and used the Heimlich on him./

I fought the snigger, but R.C. was openly grinning at the memory.

The rest of the gang started showing up while we had the 'bots practice walking. (Mom was modeling a feminine walk, Dad showed them what a soldier's bearing looked like, and Ironhide demonstrated the stride of someone who was furious and about to slag somebody.) As soon as three more 'bots arrived, Bumblebee organized his team for a football game. Hyde, Mia, R.C., Prowl, and Skids and Mudflap were the first ones to face off against them, while Mom refereed. Dad would have been in the game, but somebody had to babysit the turkey fryers.

"They're not so different from us," Dad murmured to me as he watched Rebecca and R.C. face each other across the scrimmage line. "Playing together helps them work better together, too. That's part of why Prime has encouraged these get-togethers over the years."

I glanced at him curiously. "What's it like, working with him? With them?"

He gave me a half-smile. "I can't even begin to describe it, Annabelle." Looking back at the game, he said, "Maybe they're like demons and angels. The 'cons are evil, plain and simple. And then you have the Autobots who are…" He paused for a moment, deep in thought. "You know what it feels like? It feels like being one of those ancient Greek heroes – Hercules or something. I'm just a puny little mortal walking among the gods. Doing battle with them. Helping them. That's what it feels like. Every now and then, I kind of wake up and look around me and think, 'Holy slag!' and then Ironhide or Optimus will crouch down and talk to me like I'm important and it just blows me away. And then there are the days I have to deal with the twins and I think they're just a bunch of overgrown tin cans."

I smiled. "You got shortchanged with your name, then. Iron Will – how uncreative is that? Definitely should have called you Hercules. I mean, Mikaela's name is Warrior Goddess."

He grinned again. "Don't go knocking the name. Bumblebee gave it to me." More seriously, he said, "What do you think about working with them?"

I considered that for a second. "I'm with you 100% on the 'Holy slag!' bit whenever I see them in their base forms. I never thought about them like that – as metallic gods or as demons and angels – but then, I grew up with the 'bots and I've never seen you fight a 'con." I half-smiled at him, and I could see in his eyes that he hoped I never would. "I still feel like I'm getting my feet under me, but honestly, my primary duty is something I've been doing my whole life, isn't it?"

"Yes," he confirmed. They'd used me for practice at acting human all along.

I shrugged. "As for the ambassador part, I guess I don't have much of a choice, regardless. People will interview me whether I want that or not, so I may as well learn to do it right. I just don't get why I'm the one being trained. Wouldn't Samuel's kids be the better choice?"

"Notice that your position is assistant ambassador," he pointed out, amused. "Besides, who says they won't be? But Daemon's only six years old. You are the first of a new generation of human allies for the Autobots, Annabelle. They will outlive us many times over, but our alliance must and will live on. You represent hope to the Autobots, and you have from the time you were a baby. When we are gone, you will be there to assist both them and the next human Prime, and you must be prepared for that."

"The next human Prime?"

He shrugged. "It's hereditary. We don't know yet if he got the gene or whatever you call it, but that's what they all hope."

I blinked, trying to absorb the picture of the future he was painting. "Wow. I never thought of it like that."

Serious again, he said, "Start thinking about it. Optimus and Sam don't want to overburden you, but you're stronger than I think they realize. Talk to them as your peers, because eventually they will be."

I snorted. "Well I've got some advice for Samuel right now – ease your kids into this!"

Dad laughed in answer and squeezed my shoulders in a one-armed hug. "That's my girl!"

…

Hyde's team won the football game, and he and Cam lead their mechs and femmes over to the coolers of soda, amiably talking smack (Hyde out loud, and Cam via a public comm frequency that also came through on my phone). By this time, Jolt had arrived with the Epps' family and the charade of a human Thanksgiving celebration was on.

After greeting the Epps', R.C. moved through the crowd and caught my elbow, dragging me toward the house. "Come here. 'Bee has something he wants to show you."

"Okay…?"

He was sitting on the couch in the living room, and he had my laptop open with a website up. I sat beside him, and he passed me the computer, the speakers declaring, "Welcome aboard, ma'am."

Huh. So he could talk through any nearby speakers. Cool. Glancing curiously at the website, my jaw dropped. It was a blog – The Daily Buzz operated by a person with the username Camaro76. "You're slagging kidding me."

R.C. chuckled. "Nope. He's had it for years, and now you're allowed to get a username, too."

On my IM, a window popped up and 'Bee wrote, "It was part of the compromise that got you security clearance. I made sure that blogging rights were written in, and I wanted to give you access in person. It was supposed to be your Christmas present, but now I'll have to find something else." He grinned happily at the thought.

I just glowed to realize he'd worked so hard to make sure I felt included right down to this little detail. Giggling, I threw my arms around him. "Thanks so much, 'Bee! This totally counts as an early Christmas present!"

"Welcome," he mumbled, returning the hug. On the IM, he typed, "We've given you the username Firebrand and your password has been sent to your email already. I know you'll be stuck babysitting during the football game after dinner, but hopefully this will keep you entertained."

Glancing again at the accumulated years of blog entries and comments, I said, "I'm sure it will."

He and R.C. stood and headed for the kitchen, leaving me already sniggering at some of the comments for the most recent post. Unfortunately, Mom interrupted me before I'd finished reading a third entry. "Annabelle," she called from the kitchen's back door, "Mrs. Epps needs her diaperbag. She left it in Jolt's car."

"I'll get it," I hollered back, wistfully setting aside the laptop. I'd be able to read during the game, but for now, duty called.

Stepping onto the porch, I paused, taking in the sight before me. The front yard was crowded with kick-aft alt-forms, from the familiar Topkick (with Mia's blue motorcycle positively cuddling up to it) to the most outstanding of all – Evac's violently orange helicopter. As I walked through the maze of alien robot alt-forms toward Jolt, one car in particular drew my attention. There, with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe on one side and Jolt and Bumblebee on the other, stood the most eye-catching vehicle of all – a soft-top dusty-green Jeep Wrangler Unlimited.

Tearing my eyes away from the Jeep, I hurried over to Jolt and retrieved the diaper bag, carrying it around to the backyard where twelve-month-old Akeela Epps had spit up all over herself and Mudflap, who had been tossing her in the air.

Mrs. Epps put Akeela in clean clothes from the diaper bag, and Mom conscripted me to toss the nasty ones into the washer for her. Disgusted and mildly disgruntled, I started a load of laundry and then decided to reward myself with another visit to the front yard. For some reason, I felt like I hadn't gotten my fill of Hound yet.

Walking over to his alt-form again, I wondered why I liked him so much. Maybe the obviously-not-pristine exterior was part of his draw. Even Prime's semi, arguably the most practical alt-form, had a glossy customized paint-job. Sure, he could crumple Decepticons, but I would have been terrified to go off-roading with him because I'd be worried about chipping the paint. Same thing with Ironhide. And don't get me started on Sunstreaker or Sideswipe.

But not Hound.

I already had visions of this alt-form bouncing along the rutted tracks that passed for roads on Mom's ranch, gleefully kicking up mud behind him. Or maybe he'd be somewhere in the Appalachians on a scenic byway, with leaves whipping the side-panels as patches of sunlight filtered down through the trees to play across the hood. With the top down like he was now. Always with the top down and reveling in the sheer freedom of the wind and sky. I sighed with longing as I sidled closer to Hound's alt-form, suddenly envisioning me in the passenger seat and flying down the beach, two tires in the surf and kicking up a wall of sandy water as we went. Bumblebee was fun in a flashy way, but I could just feel that Hound would be full of down-to-earth fun. No mech who had issues with mud and grime would choose this alt-form. There was just something about a Jeep!

I let my hand rest on his roll-bar, and a voice behind me said, "Can I help you?"

I jumped, heart in my throat, and whirled to see Caleb, Hound's holoform, looking at me with polite curiosity.

"I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I've touched other 'bots alt-forms when they're in their holoforms, and nobody seemed to notice before. I didn't realize…"

He chuckled. "That's okay. I'm a tracker, so all of my sensory systems are sharper than most 'bots. Old Ratchet's the only one who could give me a run for my money in sensory processing; his range of sensors is wider, but mine are more honed."

"Oh. Well…"

"Humans are very fond of physical contact."

I flushed in embarrassment. "Yes."

"But I'm still trying to decipher motives behind some of the various touches. What is the significance of touching an unoccupied alt-form?"

Blushing even deeper, I truthfully answered, "Admiration, usually."

Caleb nodded, smiling a little. "Thank you." He curiously tilted his head in a motion that unexpectedly reminded me of his namesake. "But I'm not picking up heat or DNA traces on any of the other alt-forms."

Remembering Samuel's training, I tried to shelf my embarrassment and answer honestly. "That's because I was admiring your alt-form in particular. I like Jeeps. They look like fun."

Caleb perked up at that. "And what would be appropriate fun for a Jeep?"

I giggled, having visions again of tearing up the beach. "Would you like me to show you?"

He chuckled. "Yes, actually, I would!" The holoform disappeared and his driver-side door popped open in invitation.

I hesitated, somewhere between awestruck and intimidated. None of the Autobots had let me sit behind the wheel before. "I don't have a driver's permit."

"I won't let us get damaged," he assured me. "Come on!"

Squealing like some ridiculous fangirl, I dashed around to the open door and hopped in. "You don't mind mud, do you?"

He chortled. "Not at all. I like to live on the wild side."

I knew it! "Well then, let's make a few waves."

Hound started the engine and, lightly holding the steering wheel, I guided him around the house and football field toward the beach. He accelerated as we neared the water, and we barely slowed as his tires splashed into the surf and turned to follow the shoreline. I let out a whoop as the water curled away from Hound, the wave almost as high as his hood, and then the Autobot went even faster. When we'd gone maybe a hundred yards, I turned us up onto the beach again, throwing in a donut for good measure and grinning like an idiot. Hound added another couple of three-sixties before diving for the ocean again and tearing back the way we'd come. Yeah, he had the hang of it now!

We zipped back and forth, splashing and kicking up sand, and it wasn't long before Skids, Mudflap, Chromia, Ironhide, Arcee and Trailbreaker all joined us in their alt-forms. Then it was an all-out mud war. (Thankfully, Hound put the soft top up for me and even thought to turn on the A/C.) The femmes were quick and light and were able to dodge the tracker most of the time, but Trailbreaker could throw the most sand, and Hound seemed to revel in it the entire time. When he got really plastered, he actually dove into the water so deeply that it was over his roof, and I yelped in surprise. "You do know I have to breathe, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, sounding like he was having the time of his life. "And the cab is air-tight right now. Just had to dodge Trailbreaker so we could do this!" Roaring up out of the ocean, the tracker actually jumped over the SUV and I let out a shriek as he landed with his wheels spinning, kicking wet sand all over Trailbreaker. I whooped again, grateful for the off-roading harness that kept me from falling out of my seat laughing. Sweet Cybertron, but Hound was fun!

Eventually we all returned to the front yard, after Hound took another dip in the ocean to rinse off. Mom was there to greet us, glaring at Hyde when he climbed out of the cab of his Topkick. "I'm not washing that," she informed him. "It's obviously self-inflicted."

"But I'll rust!"

Pursing her lips, she marched over to the hose, turned it on, and handed it to him. Without a word, she turned and went back inside, leaving a slightly-stunned Hyde in her wake. The other 'bots sniggered and most went with her into the house, but as I went to follow them, I saw Mia step over to Hyde, whisper something in his ear, and then snatch the hose out of his hand.

"Oh no you don't, femme!" he bellowed, but she had already skipped beyond his reach and was rinsing down the bed of his truck. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off her feet, trying to wrestle the hose away from her, but she planted an elbow in his gut, making him grunt in pain and knocking the wind out of him.

"I'll break your arm if you try that again," she cheerfully stated, dousing him once with the hose before turning it back on the truck.

And this was why it had taken me forever to figure out they were mates. Flirting between Autobots looked like brawling to me. Deciding I really didn't want to see where this might go, I went inside with the others, sniggering even harder.