The Color Purple

Red Tale

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"Thanks for giving me a ride, Sunstreaker. I really appreciate it."

"You'd better. This is the only time you will ever ride in the best of the best."

Spike sighed. This wasn't like with Bumblebee, who always cheerfully drove Spike around, he enjoyed it, they hung out together, learned about each other's history and culture. Despite millions of years age difference, they had a common language. Spike hadn't fully appreciated the depth of their bond until it contrasted with the most anti-social autobot of the force.

"Is Bumblebee going to be okay?" Spike asked anxiously, remembering his best friend's battered body being gently placed into Prime's carriage.

"Probably", Sunstreaker replied indifferently.

Although Spike held the utmost faith in Ratchet and First Aid's healing skills, he still needed the assurance, the 'Yes, he'll be fine, Spike, don't you worry', something easy and comforting that every other autobot, even Gears, could do.

He glanced longingly at the other autobots traveling beside them, unfortunately the ones who functioned enough to drive were still too damaged to safely carry Spike, even Optimus Prime suffered a broken windshield, and Jazz's Porsche mode no longer included front seats. Sunstreaker was the only one to survive relatively unscathed, so the decision was made that he should transport Spike back to the base. Spike wasn't totally sure, but he swore he heard Sunstreaker muttering something about shooting his foot off to get out of it. However the Autobots rolled out too quickly for him to successfully pull something like off, and reluctantly he had transformed and opened his door. The passenger door, to be clear.

Spike closed his eyes, intending to rest and get through the awkward ride back to the ark as quickly as possible. But the recent battle had been so traumatic that visuals kept assailing him, especially of Bumblebee taking a full blast from Starscream right in the chassis. He snapped back to reality with a shudder. Barely a minute had passed.

"Hey, Sunstreaker, could we play some music or something?" Spike asked, hoping it might take his mind off of things.

At first Spike was surprised by the song Sunstreaker chose to play from his stereo, it seemed to happy, too human, for Sunstreaker to possibly enjoy. But soon he realized the deeper, or rather shallower, meaning it held.

"theee suuuun shiiiiine iiiiinnn…let the sun shine, let the sun shine in…"

"Is there any other song you like?" Spike asked after a minute of this.

The radio switched.

"Here comes the Suu-uu-uun King…"

"Could I maybe choose a station?" Spike asked politely.

"No", came the answer.

"I just could use a distraction from thinking about Bumblebee", Spike explained, hoping to tug on Sunstreaker's empathy chip.

"Why don't you count the skin cells you're shedding on my leather interior?"

Spike looked out the window. The battle had been far from the base, there was at least an hour of this to go, assuming Sunstreaker kept pace with the others and didn't ditch them. Spike almost wished he would.

One lesson his father returned to again and again was the need to get along with others who were different than you, to turn your enemies into your friends, or at least neutralize them. Sunstreaker wasn't even an enemy, he was a comrade in arms, and they were both committed to the autobot cause. There had to be a way to turn this around.

"So…" Spike groped for conversation starters, but Sunstreaker was beyond anything he had ever met before. Finally he settled on one he considered safe.

"So, you and Sideswipe are twins, huh?"

Silence.

Well, that had been his best material there, and he had been genuinely interested in their relationship. He still didn't understand exactly what Transformer twins were. But now he seemed to have made things worse, if that was possible. The cabin had gotten a little colder.

Then brilliance struck. Of course he could get Sunstreaker to talk; he just had to work the subject into something that positively revolved around him.

"I, uh, I didn't believe Wheeljack when he first told me, because, you know, you're so much better looking than Sideswipe."

This worked, the cabin warmed up noticeably. Spike didn't like badmouthing Sideswipe, but he was now fascinated with this autobot's ego, and the thrill of possibly getting him to acknowledge him as a friend. For Spike Sunstreaker was the equivalent of the jock from junior high that no one liked but everyone was compelled to be let into his circle.

"You noticed that, did you?"

Was that a purr Spike detected in his voice?

"Yeah, sure I did", Spike agreed, "I mean, the, uh, missile thing he has, mounted on his shoulder, well, it really…throws off his symmetry, you know?"

"Yes, I've told him the same thing. He should really get rid of that thing. I'm able to take down Decepticon jets without garish weaponry."

"Yeah, but, well, even if he did that…you, um, you're still golden, right? I mean, he's just red."

Spike was rewarded with a vibrating massage from his seat.

"He's better off being red. He can't pull this glorious color off", Sunstreaker replied.

Suddenly Sunstreaker veered off the highway they had all been traveling together on.

"Hey, what about them?" Spike asked.

"They'll be fine. We got the Decepticons worse than they got us; they're not going to mess with them. Besides, we have something more important to do."

The more important thing to do turned out to be a car wash. It was all Spike could do not to roll his eyes. Sunstreaker lined up with other cars.

"The usual?" the attendant asked, looking curiously at Spike as if he didn't belong in this amazing Lamborghini.

"Yeah…" Spike replied.

The usual turned out to be the top of the line wash, undercarriage and everything, and hand waxing.

The usual also turned out to be $50. They were willing to let slide the other twenty times Sunstreaker had come through with out a human passenger, but now that he had one they were determined to get paid. Spike decided there was no point in trying to explain Sunstreaker to the carwash people, so he used his father's credit card that was only for emergencies.

"Would you like to go for a ride around town?" Sunstreaker offered.

Spike was a little taken aback but what appeared to be Sunstreaker thinking of others, then he realized that really he would be showing himself off.

"I don't know, I'm not dressed up or anything."

"Don't worry, I look good enough for both of us", Sunstreaker assured him.

'My God, is he really serious?' Spike thought to himself. Apparently he was, because he found himself taken on a tour of the city, with occasionally stopping for people who took notice of the clean, flashy vehicle. Most other vehicles out on the streets were covered in snow, salt, and slush from a previous blizzard, so Sunstreaker really stood out. During this time Spike became familiar with about a hundred songs that involved the sun in their lyrics, including several in Japanese.

Finally Sunstreaker headed back towards the base again.

But they made one more stop, half way up the mountains. There was no carwash, no admiring masses, not even a lot of trees. It was a relatively flat cliff which in summer offered gorgeous views of the sunset. But this was winter, and instead there was a violet cloud cover, with faint pink highlighting near the horizon. Sunstreaker opened his door, so Spike climbed out. Then he transformed and sat watching the sky. Spike altered between looking at the sky, which he found somewhat boring, and Sunstreaker. 'Why was he here, what did this have to do with the promotion of himself', Spike wondered? Why not take Spike to the base and come back here alone? Was Sunstreaker trying to bond with him? Were they friends now?

"I used to be an artist", Sunstreaker explained after a minute, "So I know how to appreciate beauty, and this sky has it. It's only like this for the winter sunsets, and I don't want to miss any of it."

"It is beautiful", Spike agreed, although not only was he bored but he was getting quite cold as well. The temperature wasn't actually at freezing level but it was close.

"It's because of the water on your planet. I'm glad Cybertron has no water, but I do like seeing this."

"I thought you'd like the summer sky", Spike mused, "Because of the sun. Isn't yellow your favorite color?"

Sunstreaker's expression seemed to sour slightly.

"No, my favorite color is purple."

"Really? Then why aren't you painted purple?"

Sunstreaker considered him a moment, in a way that made Spike feel like he was five years old.

"Purple is a Decepticon color."

A moment of awkward silence passed. Spike thought over the color schemes of the two sides, it was true most Autobots were Red, Yellow, or White, most Decepticons were Purple, Grey, Black…the Decepticon insignia was purple. But…colors don't have concepts of good and evil.

"Well, look, the Decepticons don't own the color purple. You should be whatever color you want."

Sunstreaker's eyes darkened.

"When you're part of an army, you don't get to do whatever you want", he explained sternly, as if repeating a lesson he had learned a long time ago, "That includes art, and it includes what color you are. Even before I joined the autobots, my designer chose yellow for me so I wouldn't be confused for a Decepticon. Yellow is an autobot color. Besides…it does bring out my eyes better. Because my eyes, you know, have to be blue, which is okay, I think I have a good shade, deeper than the others."

Spike took a moment to marvel at how Sunstreaker managed to turn a serious discussion into a self-compliment.

"Okay, maybe don't paint yourself purple", Spike suggested, "Paint something else in the base. Get the autobots used to the color purple as something pleasant."

Now the expression on Sunstreaker's face was up to neutral. A moment later it seemed to be pleasant.

"I don't know if they can handle it", he said with a wry smile.

By now night had set in, and Sunstreaker transformed and finished driving Spike back. As soon as they crossed the entrance he opened his door again. Spike stepped out, expecting Sunstreaker to transform back to robot form and give a proper farewell. He was shocked and disappointed when Sunstreaker simply closed his door and drove away.

"But…That's it? There's nothing more…between us? You're not even…going to say…good bye?"

Spike was already alone by the time he finished the sentence. But…didn't they have a real conversation? Didn't they just hang around town for hours? How could they not be friends?

Moments later Jazz, all fixed up by Ratchet, came by and saw Spike standing forlornly in the entrance.

"Heeyy, Spike, we were wondering what happened to you two. Sunstreaker took you to the carwash, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he took me to the cleaners all right", Spike replied distractedly, remembering that this little trip had cost him 50 dollars, "I don't know where he is now though, I guess I thought…"

Jazz, seeing where this was going, put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I learned a long time ago, with Sunstreaker, all rules are off. If he's nice to you, be nice back, if he's not, don't stress about it."

"Okay", Spike sighed.

"But, on a happier note, Bumblebee's just about ready to roll out of the repair bay."

"Oh, that's great Jazz. Thanks."

Spike ran to the repair bay to see his friend. Suddenly he realized he hadn't thought about Bumblebee in hours. If he hadn't been with Sunstreaker he would have spent all that time fretting and worrying and being miserable. Sunstreaker had done him a favor distracting him from all that pain.

He was still upset about the abrupt departing; he supposed it was to avoid any risk of the other autobots seeing him be friendly to Spike. Sunstreaker had a reputation to maintain, and that was more important to him than anything else.

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Over the next few days Sunstreaker continued to greet him with a complete lack of acknowledgement. Spike kept Jazz's advice to heart and tried to not take it personally.

He'd just about resigned himself to the fact that he must not have made any lasting impression on Sunstreaker at all.

But then came another big battle, with almost all of the autobots returning to the repair bay at once, overwhelming Ratchet and First Aid with rebuilding parts, not to mention painting them. Wheeljack'd built a machine reserved for just this occasion.

The full ramifications of this were not realized until several hours later, when Spike happened across Tracks walking through the hallways. Instead of his usual blue, he now sported a coat of silver, with black highlighting.

"Hey, Tracks, I almost didn't recognize you" Spike greeted.

Tracks narrowed his eyes at him. Obviously the color scheme was not by choice.

"What happened?" Spike inquired gently.

"The Blue paint's gone. Ratchet had to improvise until we get more."

"Well, it looks nice", Spike said.

"Please, spare me. I look like an Aerialbotreject."

Spike didn't want to confirm Track's assessment, and since he was a poor liar he simply walked on to the command center. It didn't occur to him to speculate on the missing blue paint until he saw all the autobots gathered in the command center.

Cliffjumper, Ironhide, Perceptor, Gears, Inferno, and Blaster surrounded Sideswipe. Optimus Prime stood off to the side.

"It wasn't me", Sideswipe insisted as the others prepared to beat him to a pulp.

They were all purple.