Disclaimer: I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

The Moonlessnight:I apologize immensely for the extreme lateness of this update. I did warn everyone that school was starting but, well, I forgot to mention that I'm a college senior who also works for a living which means I am buried under almost constant assignments. I wrote ten pages for a class just yesterday and I have at least another six to write for other classes before Monday. So, sadly, papers have claimed much of my waking time with precious little time for food let alone the writing of fan fiction. I promise I have not forgotten this story though. The characters wouldn't let me if I wanted to.

Case in point the TF crew is insisting I write this right now instead of tackling my textbooks. Epona Harper? If you are reading this, thank you yet again for setting this muse lose on me. It hasn't shut up for weeks. –grins— Seriously though, thanks for the start of this chapter goes to Harper. Blame him/her for the madness to follow….

Gremlins

Sam blinked awake to the sounds of Rose Royce blaring from the stereo. "At the car wash / Talkin' about the car wash yeah/ Come on and sing it for me car wash. / Car wash yeah!" A sponge streaked in and out of his view on Bee's windshield and Sam sat up quick enough to bring on a dizzy spell. Taking in the sight of the multitude of teens crawling around and over the bright yellow Camaro he turned bewildered eyes to the stranger sitting in the seat next to him. The blonde haired youth smiled right back.

Tapping hands against the steering wheel in time to the music, the mysterious teen turned alien-blue eyes in Sam's direction and grinned wider. "Finally decided to join the party, huh Sam?"

Cocking his head to the side, Sam locked his jaw in place to keep it from hitting the floorboard. Sam spoke, giving an uncharacteristic squeak as he recognized the voice of the blonde, "Bumblebee?"

The blonde bobbed his head in an enthusiastic affirmative, flashing a victory sign with thin fingers. Another teen passed behind the smiling 'driver', a soapy sponge dragging behind her. Sam attempted not to ogle the tank-top wearing beauty, chanting Mikaela's name over and over to himself silently. Meanwhile the Camaro tried to suppress an overjoyed tremble that threatened to shake his frame. Settling for turning the music up louder, Bumblebee practically crowed, "Ratchet, this is the best order you have ever given!"

"Roger that," a deep voice agreed in an almost purring resonance, "Ratchet, this is a most…relaxing…way to spend a morning."

The purring gave way to a deeper rumble. Craning his neck around to see where the purring emanated from, Sam gripped the headrest and twisted in his seat. There, dwarfing the Topkick that lounged next to it, sat a familiar eighteen-wheeler. Several sets of hands scrubbed at the massive tires of the diesel which rumbled with suppressed laughter at the touch. Swallowing his own laughter at the sight, Sam fell back into the seat with a shake of his head, "I never would have thought the great Optimus Prime was ticklish, Bee."

Holo-Bee smiled even wider. An evil glint entering his eye, the hologram gestured to the crutches discarded on the floorboard. The passenger door swung open of its own accord while he spoke, "If you think that's something, go grab a sponge and slick down Ironhide's hubcaps."

Smirking, Sam hastily gathered the crutches in his arms and awkwardly levered himself out of the car. The tank-top girl from earlier paused in her scrubbing long enough to steady Sam as he got situated, bringing a red tinge to the boy's ears. His litany of Mikaela's name became a verbal whisper thereafter, which he muttered even as he shooed the girl back to her task of cleaning the yellow Camaro. Crossing the short distance like a cartoon gorilla, all but hopping on the tall crutches, Sam soon stood next to the tires of a very stoic GMC Topkick.

A bucket abandoned near the front of the truck caught his attention and Sam reached in to find a sponge waiting. Noting the general absence of teens in the immediate area, Sam hesitated only a moment before pulling the sponge from the water. He dropped it in the dirt a split second later when a truck horn blared right next to his ear. "Don't even think it, boy!" Ironhide growled.

Finding himself firmly planted on his rump in the mud by the surprise, Sam smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his dark hair. "They…um…missed a spot?" A sharp rev of the massive truck's engine sent Sam scurrying to the nearest protected point, the open cab of a bright yellow hummer.

Briefly deafened by the ringing in his ears and the hiss of his own breath, Sam jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. Saving himself from toppling by clutching Ratchet's seat, the boy spun to face whoever had intruded in the cab and found a dust buster inches from his face. Waving vacuum like a conductor's baton, a red headed boy laughed, "Man, you should see your face. Your buddy got you good!"

A death glare from silenced the laughing teen who quickly retreated to the task of vacuuming Ratchet's interior. Left to his own means, Sam cast a similar glare in the direction of a certain Camaro. There, a blonde teen sat doubled over in laughter, blissfully unaware of the look promising revenge.

Several hours and sixty miles down the road, Sam sat curled into the Bumblebee's seat absently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. A jaunty traveling tune from the 30's rolled forth from Bee's speakers in stereophonic twanging splendor, a last ditch effort on the Transformer's part to break the uneasy silence of the human. When even that did not work, the radio crackled and switched off. Sam chose that moment to jerk upright in the seat and slam his good foot down on the breaks, bringing Bumblebee to a skidding halt. Behind them the other Autobots came to similar smoke-spitting halts, Ratchet transforming mid-skid to avoid smashing into Ironhide's rear.

Processor whirring in an attempt to fathom the boy's reason for the sudden stop, Bumblebee practically stuttered, "Primus, Sam! What made you-?"

"Go back," Sam interrupted, "Bee, we have to go back."

"What?" Bee's asked. "Back where?"

Jerking the steering wheel sharply to the left, Sam pumped at a suddenly non-functional gas pedal. Bee did not want any more surprises at the moment. Giving up on his attempts at making the Camaro move, Sam fell back into the seat with a frustrated sigh. "Back up the road a ways. There's a van with its hood up back there and I think I saw kids inside. I can't leave them stranded, Bee."

Racking his memory banks for information regarding such a vehicle, Bumblebee came up empty and stated simply: "What are you talking about Sam? I didn't see any car back there."

"I saw it, Bee. Trust me, we have to go back." Sam still gripped the wheel in both hands, his foot beginning to tap the accelerator once again.

At this, Optimus rolled forward to park himself next to the perturbed yellow Camaro. "Bumblebee, report! What is so important that it merited almost scrapping our weapons officer and our medic?" Rolling on his tires in a shrug the little spy explained Sam's claims of seeing a family in distress, his voice tinged with annoyance at Sam's continued efforts to make him move.

To Bumblebee's surprise, Optimus bobbed in a vehicular nod. "Ah! He is referring to the little Windstar with the smoking engine Ironhide spotted two clicks back. I thought the situation seemed odd."

If he had been in his alt form, Bee's jaw would have dropped. "There was a van back there? How the frag did I miss that?" A rev from Optimus' systems made the mini-bot shudder and he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, how did I miss something so obvious…sir?"

The eighteen-wheeler's engine rumbled his displeasure at the young spy's choice of words, but his voice did not betray the feeling, "Perhaps you were distracted. However, the fact remains that those humans were stranded. If Sam believes they need our help, then we will help." Performing a tight u-turn that belied his disguise as an ordinary diesel, Optimus Prime doubled back on his tracks. Blaring his horn once to attract Ratchet and Ironhide's attention, Prime bellowed his favorite phrase, "Autobots, let's roll out!"

Wiping sweat away from his eyes with the back of a grimy hand, Sam closed the hood of the Windstar with a weary smile. Mikeala's lessons (and Ratchet's nagging voice in his ear) had made the repair fairly simple…once he had found the duct tape and contorted his way down to the offending part anyway. "There you go, Mr. Neil. That patch should hold until you get into town. You can have a real mechanic handle things from there."

A thinning haired gentleman offered his equally grimy hand for Sam to shake, proffering a lopsided grin, "Truth be told, I just got this hunk of metal back from the mechanic before heading out on this trip, but thanks for the advice. The man must employ or gremlin or two in his service, but like a fool I keep going back to him."

"I would find a new mechanic," Sam laughed as he carefully climbed into Bee. He had left the crutches in Bee's cab and now regretted the action. However, he forced a smile for the sake of the little brunettes smiling from behind the Windstar's glass. Smiling back at them, he offered a final wave, "Take good care of those girls of yours."

Mr. Neil plucked one child from where she sat on Ironhide's running board, offering a salute to the soldier who leaned out the truck window. "Will do, and thanks for watching her for me mister."

Ironhide growled what might have been a 'no problem' before turning his engine. Minutes later, the motley caravan of robots in disguise headed out onto open highway. The Windstar had just disappeared from the rearview mirror when Bee's voice pulled Sam from his revere. "Sam, may I ask a question?"

"You just did," the teen said with a smirk, "but fire away."

Delighted that Sam was talking to him again, Bumblebee practically sang his inquiry, "Just what is a gremlin and what did it have to do with that mechanic the man back there mentioned?"

Sam hesitated before answering, unsure of how to phrase his answer. Leaning back and letting Bumblebee take control of the steering, he finally answered, "Gremlins are an old myth, Bee. They are these weird little creatures that scurry around and cause problems in machines. People like to blame them for all the random problems that come up with their gadgets and whatnot."

Bee tapped the brakes until an impatient blare from Ratchet's horn kept him moving. "They cause problems in machines? You mean like glitches?"

Sam nodded, "Yep, but no worries. Like I said, they are only myths."

The Camaro noticeably shuddered and Sam repeated his earlier statement more forcibly, but Bee cut him off mid-sentence. "Back on Cybertron, these Gremlins of yours were no myth, Sam. They were real and they caused very real problems."

Tilting his head in confusion, Sam leaned forward to rest his arms on the steering wheel. Images of strange little creatures running amidst the burning ruins of alien cities flickered through his mind, but he shook the images off. "Gremlins aren't real, Bee."

"They are!" Bumblebee insisted, giving his internals a frustrated rev. "Optimus told me all about them, and I even saw one myself before Ironhide slagged it." Feeling the vibrations of Sam's silent laughter, Bee's voice took on a slight growl. "Look, back when the Decepticons started this war, we had no name for their faction. They were just 'the other side'. That is, until they unleashed a very deceptive menace loose on us.

"Their scientists designed a race of mini-cons, the smallest bots in existence. They dubbed them 'glitch mice'. These little bots existed for only one purpose, to gain our trust and then tear us apart from the inside out. Through their deception, the 'other side' hoped to end the war in one fell swoop, but their plan backfired. The tiny size of the glitch mice made it impossible for them to slice through our armor plating. So, they never caused any major damage.

"Still, they did serve one purpose. Their deceptive ways gave us a name for 'the other side'. The glitch mice gave us our word for the Decepticons. Noticing that Sam had gone completely still, Bee turned his sensors inward and almost laughed when he found the boy gapping like a fish. Smirking, the spy whispered, "I told you gremlins were real."

Sam only nodded, falling back into the seat with a heavy sigh. "You win, Bee. Gremlins…I mean 'glitch mice'…are real."

A stray thought caught in Sam's mind and he sat up suddenly, making Bee cringe in anticipation of another sudden stop, but none came. Instead, the boy smiled with an odd glint entering his eye. "Can we stop at the next gas station, Bee? I want to get a few supplies and take care of some things."

Recalling the dash for the bushes a few days prior, the Camaro quickly agreed. "Sure thing, Sam. Let me just relay the message along to Optimus and the others."

Sam muttered his thanks and sat back in the seat again, grinning like a cat. Bumblebee had humiliated him by sending him over to Ironhide. Now, it was his turn. Thanks to Bee's glitch mice, he now had held the key for ultimate payback.

Songs used: "Carwash" by Rose Royce

The Moonlessnight: Yet again, sorry for the lateness of this update. The next chapter (hopefully) will not take as long, but no promises. School has me in its teeth and refuses to let go. I do have the next chapter planned out all ready. No worries there.

Let me reiterate, this story will not be left unfinished. I will complete it. I promise.

Note: I am not entirely happy with the this chapter and am liable to rewrite it at a later date. Parts of it seem forced to me, but that just might be my perfectionist side showing through. Anyway... Until the next post! --grins--