Title: Owls and Larks
Author: BlueLunacy7
Chapter Warnings: None
Pairings: None at the moment but future Sam/Bee
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, the any quotes or lyrics, or song titles in anyway, shape, or form. Basically, nothing you recognize is mine.
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Chapter 3: Haunted Camaro
Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. -C.S. Lewis
"Okay, Liz or….Myers?"
"Myers."
"Myers or…Hellboy?"
"Both. And Abe."
"That's not a choice." Miles said, throwing some popcorn at Sam. They were crashed out on Sam's bed watching the movie Hellboy, which of course prompted a 'who would you screw' question from Miles.
Using remote viewing to find Mrs. Sarah's husband turned out to be a bust. While Miles could see that Lennox and his men was in the desert and alive, something was interfering, maybe the sand since it was technically made up of tiny crystals. That had to be it; Miles said that he'd seen something chasing them that looked like a reject from Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. Sam would have to think of something else.
"I like variety." Sam replied, "This way I have the Cute Boy Next Door, the Cool Intellectual, and the Sexy Bad Boy."
"But not Liz? You'd have the whole set that way."
"No, she's whiney. I know she has a highly destructive ability she doesn't want. I understand that she may need sometime alone." Sam said his rant building up as he reached for more popcorn, "But hiding from the world and being drugged out of her mind won't help her learn to control her ability. She's got people who are willing to stick by her no matter how scary her powers get and one very fine demon willing to destroy the world for her. She needs to put on her big girl panties and deal with it."
"And she's human." Miles said, pulling the popcorn bowl out of Sam's reach.
"Myers is human," Sam replied, "Stop hogging the popcorn."
"Myers is a boy. I've never seen you with human girl, only half human ones."
"I don't do human girls."
"Racist, or would it be specie-st? You should at least...I don't know… try a one."
Before Sam could retort to that, there was a knock on his door. His Dad stuck his head in, "Sam you ready?"
"Yep. You coming or hanging out?"
"Hang out. You know, should ask your dad about sleeping with human women."
This lead to a conversation with his father all the way to the car lot that made Sam vow to christen his new vehicle by running Miles over with it.
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"No sacrifice, no victory, no sacrifice, no victory, what the hell does that have to do with getting a car?" Sam muttered in time with his foot steps as he walked down the isles of the car lot.
He'd seen the yellow Camaro (something that brightly painted was hard to miss) following them a discreet distance away. He watched as it pulled into the same car lot as he and his father were stopping at, parking among the junkers and wrecks as if it had been there all along.
Sam also saw that it had no driver.
So he put on his "gloomy teen" look and walked a little way a ways from his father and the crap spewing car salesman Bobby Bolivia, (just like county without the runs! He claimed as if that was something to brag about) to investigate the car.
It was Camaro with a canary yellow paintjob that was still bright even through it was slightly faded with black racing stripes that were a bit faded as well; there were a few dents but no rust spots. Sam wasn't sure of the year but he was willing to bet that this was one the 'Haunted Cars'. It didn't look scary; in fact it looked rather friendly, strangely enough. While Sam could very slightly sense an odd energy from the car, there was no telling tingle from his bangles, meaning while there might be something in the car, it wasn't malevolent and didn't mean any harm.
Yet.
He could either leave the car for some poor unsuspecting human or take the car home with him and figure out what was up with it. He was leaning more towards the latter than the former to tell the truth, goddamn draconic curiosity. There was also the fact it seemed to be following him if he read its actions right. As Sam considered his choices, he wandered away from the Camaro and pretended to looked at other cars.
That is, until the Camaro honked at him, loudly.
"Shh!" Sam hissed at the car after jumping about a foot in the air. He wasn't expecting the goddamn car to do that. But it did tell him something: it was haunted rather than gremlin infested. Gremlins wouldn't have gotten his attention but there was still something subtly weird about it. He quickly went back over the Camaro and opened the driver side door, just making it as his father and Bolivia looked over.
"Sorry, I bumped the horn, my bad." Sam called to them. When they started heading over to him, Sam slid into the driver's seat, vaguely noticing how comfy it was and how he didn't have to adjust anything. "Okay, Herby you have my attention. What do you want?" He asked the car, feeling slightly foolish.
The radio flipped on, "….I just wanted to be your friend…"
"You want to be friends huh? Okay, I'll be your friend." Sam said, patting the steering wheel. He turned to his father as he walked up, "Hey dad, its got racing stripes."
"That doesn't mean you need to race it." Dad replied and asked Bolivia, "How much?"
"Well, giving the semi classical nature of the vehicle," Bolivia began his spiel, "And the custom paintjob-"
"That's faded." Sam interjected.
Bolivia glared at him through the window, "Its custom."
"It's custom-faded?" Sam asked with a look that said, you're kidding right?
"It's your first car; I don't expect you to understand." Bolivia disdainful dismissed him before speaking to Sam's Dad, "Five thousand."
Now Sam could get five thousand dollars, he had been hoping to spend four thousand and use the left over to spruce up the car up with. Buying this car for that price would wipe him out financially. There was also the way Bolivia had spoken to him that made him not want to buy anything from the man and he was trying to sell Sam a car that wasn't his to sell. So it was either pay or walk away from Haunted Camaro. Sam didn't think it would take the rejection well, which gave him an idea.
"Nope, not going that high." His Dad said, taking charge.
"Get out of the car, kid." Bolivia told Sam.
"Wait, you said cars pick their drivers. What happened to the mystical bond between man and machine?" Sam asked, in a slightly mocking tone.
"Well, sometimes the car picks a driver with a cheap-ass father."
As Sam started to get out, he pretended to fiddle with his cell phone and dropped it to the floorboards of the Camaro. As he reached down to get it, he whispered quickly to the Camaro, "If you want to come home with me, you got to convince Bolivia to lower his price, okay?"
In answer the Camaro's passenger door swung open and whacked Bolivia on the ass hard enough to make the man yelp. Sam bit the inside of his mouth the keep from laughing. Oh yeah, that decided him; he really liked this car.
"See these doors slid like silk, that's craftsmanship." Bolivia said grabbing the door to demonstrate, only to have it jump out of his hand and slam itself shut.
Bolivia laughed obnoxiously, mumbling something about old cars. Fear lurked in the back of his eyes. The majority of humanity had no idea that things like Sam existed outside of fairy tales, they would find excuses to try and make themselves unafraid of the strange occurrences. But they were still scared, and that's what Sam was counting on.
If he couldn't convince Bolivia to sell him the Camaro, then he would get the Camaro to scare him into it.
Sam was standing in the door way of the driver's side and when he went to move away, the door shut on him. It wasn't hard enough to hurt him but it did pin him in place and wouldn't move with both Bolivia and Sam's dad pulling on it.
When Bolivia turned to yell for someone named Manny, Sam gave his father a thumbs up sign, mouthing 'It's okay.' His father raised both of his eyebrows incredulously but nodded slowly, understanding. He knew of Sam's extracurricular activities and was willing to go along with Sam if he said it was okay. Sam gently pushed on the door and it swung open smoothly.
Turning to Bolivia, Sam said "I'll take this car off your hands if you lower the price."
"The Camaro is five thousand. Take it or leave it." Bolivia said stubbornly, he gestured to yellow Beetle parked next to the Camaro. "This might be more in your price range."
Sam felt the stirrings of admiration for Bolivia; he had to respect someone who was willing to stick to his guns, even when he was trying to screw Sam over. Apparently, the Camaro was getting frustrated because it let loose a shriek that blew out the windows of every other car on the lot and nearly drove Sam to his knees.
"Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ!" Sam yelled, covering his ears trying to block out the horrendous noise. While his hearing wasn't as sensitive in human form, that sound was enough to hurt his ears.
It would have seemed a rather pretty; the way the sunlight sparkled and flashed in glass shards littering the asphalt if Sam's head wasn't pounding. Bolivia looked like he going to cry at the damage to his money generating lot. With a shaking hand, he held up his fingers and said in equally shaky voice, "Four thousand."
"Make it three thousand," Sam cut it before his dad could say anything, "and you've got a deal."
"Fine, fine I'll get the paperwork." Bolivia nodded, retreating quickly, almost running towards his office, "just get that thing off my lot."
Sam smiled in victory as he rapped his knuckles lightly on the roof of the Camaro, "Okay first rule: you don't ever make that noise again."
"Are you sure about this Sam?" His father asked worriedly, eyeing the Camaro while keeping his distance.
"Yeah, it's probably a sentient haunt." Sam said, seeming to lean causally against the Camaro but was actually putting himself between his father and the car. It helped to be cautious.
"Sentient haunt? It has a ghost?" His dad asked dubiously. Sam felt a bit of pity for his father.
Ron Witwicky tried so hard to be the Man of the House and protect his family. But he was a completely normal human, no creature blood in his family history or any paranormal abilities whatsoever. In the paranormal world that his wife and son came from, people like Ron usually ended up as food for something nasty. While there were humans who could take on some of the nasty critters, they rarely lasted long.
Humans were just too fragile.
"Nah, if it had a ghost it would be a ghost haunt," At his father's blank look, Sam explained, "There five major types of haunts: ghost, residual, poltergeist, inhuman and sentient." Sam counted off his fingers, "A ghost haunting is like it sounds: there's a ghost that interacts with the world. It response when someone talks to it, stuff like that. Some don't know that their dead, some do but didn't move on for some reason. Residual Haunting is like a recording of an event gets played over and over, it doesn't interact.
There's what's called a poltergeist haunting that isn't really a haunting by a ghost but it's either a critter called a poltergeist messing with people, usually harmless, or manifestation of psychokinetic energy. The worst is an inhuman haunt. Almost always nasty beings, it usually coincides with a possession. You need a high ranking churchman or a high priestess to get rid of them and that may not work the first time."
"Now a sentient haunt, like our friend here," Sam gesturing to the Camaro, "is when, for whatever reason, an object gains a conscious. It usually happens to old houses or swords but anything goes and like with people, there's some that are nice and some with a bad attitude. "
"Why does it have an interest in you?" His father asked.
"….we are going to be friends…" the radio sang, making his father jump.
"See it wants to be friends; sentient haunts tend to be symbiotic and they get lonely." Sam said with a shrug, "It seems like nice." Sam didn't point out that the nasty sentient haunts were parasitic; feeding off their victims until the person either went nuts or died. No need to worry his father unnecessarily.
"You rattled the ghost info off quickly." His dad said, moving onto another topic.
"It's interesting. There was a team of ghost hunters that passed through a few months back, "Sam said with a smile, "They had a couple of hotties on their team." Sam didn't mention that both had been male and one was a priest. Could you go to hell for lusting after priest? Something to think on.
Bolivia finally came out with the paperwork but refused to come near the Camaro. After signing the papers and handing over the money, the Camaro was now Sam's. As Sam slipped behind the wheel and turned the key in ignition, his dad leaned into the window, "Go straight home, so we can talk about this…development." His dad said, eyes earnest, "call me if something happens."
"Sure," Sam reassured him, "I'll be fine."
Of course, as he drove off, the Camaro blasted, "….looks so cool in that new Camaro…."
"Cute." Sam said when the volume lowered. The radio rolled through the stations before settling on something with a pounding beat. "Nice choice."
They drove for a little bit. Once they were far enough away from Bolivia's, Sam turned down a road that would take them out of town. The radio rolled through the stations in obvious confusion. "…Where are we going?..."
"We need to have a little pow-wow before we go home." Sam said as he pulled the Camaro into an abandoned lot. Turning the car off, Sam got out, not wanting to threaten the car while he was still in it. He paced by the car for a few moments before starting.
"You seem like a nice…car. That's why I bought you, well that and curiosity." Sam said. Outside of the movies, he had never heard of a sentient car. Swords? Yes. Armor? Yes. Houses? Hell yes. Cars? No. "But understand the moment you start pulling any shit out of a Stephen King novel on me, it's straight to the junk yard after a date with a sledgehammer, capisce?"
"….Yes Sir…." The car replied.
"Good, I'm happy we have an understanding. So…my name is Sam." He introduced himself, "Do you have name? Cause I can't keep calling you 'car' or 'Haunted Camaro'."
"….Bumblebee…"
"Bumblebee," Sam repeated, trying the name out. It definitely fit, especially with that paintjob. "Is it okay to call you Bee?"
"….yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…."
"Okay then." Sam said with smile as he got back in. "This seems to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
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Bumblebee didn't really know what to make of his new ward at first. He truly thought he'd made a mistake honking the horn. But he had been searching every where and to have the object his search right there…he'd gotten overly excited.
He'd thought that he'd scared the boy off. Instead, Sam had told him to be quiet and he'd covered for Bumblebee's mistake. Most humans would have been unnerved by a living car; Ron Witwicky had certainly been at first when Sam introduced them. It had taken weeks of good behavior for Ron to have anything to do with him. Judy Witwicky, however, seemed to take him in stride after issuing her own death threat about what would happen to him if he let something happen to Sam.
Bumblebee shivered, Sam's maternal unit was scary. Ron was a very brave man.
Sam, on the other hand, seemed to be as fascinated with him as Bumblebee was with him. True, Sam didn't know what exactly what he was but then he didn't know exactly what Sam was either, so they were even. He knew that Sam wasn't completely human which explained some things such as Sam's strength, speed and body temperature.
He's wasn't happy when he learned what Sam did some nights, patrolling for dangerous creatures. Creatures, which according to most of what he found on the internet, didn't exist. And Sam wouldn't take him. How was he supposed to protect him if Sam wouldn't take him? To make matters worse, Sam had taken to locking him in garage when he went patrolling after he'd caught Bumblebee following him one night.
As if the Decepticons weren't enough, Sam had to go hunting for trouble. He knew that Sam still didn't completely trust him. He had to gain more of Sam's trust before he revealed himself, which meant pretending to be just a car.
Though there was one good thing about pretending to be just a car: the car wash.
If done mechanically or by hand, a car wash was bliss, although he'd preferred it when Sam washed him. Those soft hands and soapy water….and then the outside was done, Sam would vacuum his insides… and then Sam would wipe his seats down…and the dashboard…and the steering wheel…even better, Sam would do this at least once a week when he learned Bumblebee liked it, even if he didn't know why.
Bumblebee decided that he liked Sam a lot.
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Author Notes:
Songs used in this chapter:
Halo Friendlies: Let's Be FriendsJack Johnson: We're Going To Be Friends
Kings Of Leon: Camaro Smashing Pumpkins: Sweet Sweet New Order: Hey Now What You Doing Aqua: BumblebeeDestiny's Child: No, No, No
So begins the Sam and Bee friendship!
Sam thinks Bee is just a car that has gained a conscious. Odd yes, but seeing the things he's deals with as well as what he is, a sentient car while not that common isn't all that far-fetched.
While Bee knows Sam isn't human but he doesn't know what Sam is. Won't he be surprised with Sam transforms?
The "Liz Rant" is mine. I don't like her if you could tell. I know she suppose sympathetic character but she came off as whiney in the first movie and a bitch in the second (which I didn't care for). It didn't help that Myers was cute enough for my IYSFG (Inner Yaoi/Slash Fan Girl) to go nuts over and scream: "Forget her, Hellboy! Go molest Myers!"
I'm not the only one who thinks it really sucks that Myers got written out of the second movie right?
Thanks to everyone how read, reviewed, and saved my fic to your favorites. You make me smile.
-BlueLunacy7