Disclaimer: Transformers are not mine - just borrowing the characters. Nor harm done, no damage meant.

Bumblebee snapped awake instantly.

It took only a second to figure out why he interrupted his recharge cycle – the boy, Samuel James Witwicky was awake and up. The boy's parental units, Judy and Ron, were still sound asleep in bed.

Bumblebee wondered at the change – he may be relatively new to guarding humans but he'd learned Samuel's usual schedule and habits very quickly. Sam preferred to sleep in until 9 am at the very earliest, sometimes staying in bed until eleven in the afternoon. The boy reluctantly got up and prepared himself for school, scarfing breakfast down before slipping behind the driverseat, half-asleep as Bumblebee drove to the local-highschool, on the days he had to get up before seven in the morning.

Bumblebee listened and waited. If Sam's plans for the day included leaving the house, he'd come outside soon enough – meanwhile, staying incognito as a brand-new 2009 bright yellow Camero took priority, only to be broken if the Witwicky household was in danger.

Sam slid into the driver's seat. "Morning, Bee," he chirped cheerfully. "Isn't today a beautiful day?"

"Sam, are you okay?" Bumblebee had read that humans acted strange when they were ill. The unproven internet sources also suggested humans behaved weird when they wanted something – and that anniversaries, birthdays, and special occasions were all dates that could alter normal behavior. Each theory contradicted the others. None of it made sense.

"Hmm?" Sam pulled out his wallet, checking something. "Oh, I'm fine. Perfectly alright. Ready for the fireworks tonight. Can we swing by Mile's place before picking up Mikaela?"

Obligingly, Bumblebee pulled out and drove. "Fireworks?" Bumblebee checked the date. Oh No! Not July 4th! What was it with humans setting off colorful explosions and miniature noisemakers all along the roads, driveways, and parkling lots on this day? He almost danced out of his frame the first time he watched someone lit a firecracker and waved the sparkler around, laughing and giggling as the flames burnt the smoldering stick in their hands. What's so special about this particular date that practically all of America gathered outside to watch flaming bombs explode in the sky? "What's so special about July 4th?

Sam stopped everything. "Excuse me?"

"What is so special about today? It's just another lazy summer day."

"Today is The Forth of July man! Independence Day! The day we signed the Declaration of Independence – come on! Don't the Autobots have days that you celebrate your freedom from oppressive tyrants? Time to recall breaking away from a corrupt government?"

Bumblebee struggled to remember what it was like on Cybertron before the rebellion. Before the Decepticons decided to fight in protest at being treated worse than drones. "No."

"No?" Sam's jaw dropped. He pulled out his cell. "Hey, Miles? You up yet? Good. I'll be by your place shortly."

Bumblebee fell silent as Miles Lancaster approached. The huge dog laying in the shade of the giant oak stopped thumping its tail on the grassly lawn as the human left his side.

"Nice car. Where'd you get it?" Miles asked as he slid into the passenger seat. This was his standard greeting every time Sam gave his friend a ride.

Sam's jaw clenched. "Trade in." He pretended to pull away from the curb and took the car towards the location Mikaela Banes told him to pick her up.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Try again bro.- I didn't believe that excuse the first time."

"A classic car collector traded me my old car for this new one." Sam's heart wasn't into the usual banter, and no matter how often he said the exact same thing, it didn't change what he knew.

"Bro, the 1972 Camero is old, but it wasn't classic – especially not with the rust and fading paint job it sported. Tell me the truth."

Sam sighed. "The government wanted a particular car. They wanted it bad, gave me this one to replace that one."

Miles snorted then laughed. "Don't ever change, bro. But I do want to know the truth, one day." The blond teen clicked his seatbelt after realizing the car was already on the road. "Ready to pick up some bottle rockets and firecrackers?"

"One more stop, first." Sam grinned. "I'm looking forward to this year's display – supposed to be better than last years."

Miles pushed stay strands of loose hair out of his eyes. "That's way they say every year, bro. The town's display never compares to Disneyland's."

Both teenagers laughed. And if Sam took his hands off the wheel while talking with Miles, no one noticed or cared enough to speak up.

Too soon the brand new, preowned 2009 bright yellow Camero pulled up to the curb, where Mikaela Banes waited.

"Whoa, bro. You never said we were picking up Trent's girl."

Mikaela reached through the open window and head-slapped the blond. "I'm not Trent's girl. Never have been." She sat in the backseat, glared at Sam. "Did you have to bring him along?"

"He's my best bud since Kindergarden, Mikaela – and we always spend the 4th together." Sam did not apologize for Miles' behavior.

Said friend leaned forward, staying out of reach of Mikaela's hands while rubbing his neck and back of the head.

"Whatever." Mikaela rolled her eyes. "What time is the barbeque tonight?"

"Fiveish" two voices answered in unison. "What your you thankful for today, Mikaela?" Sam continued

"It's not Thanksgiving," Mikeala protested.

Miles, deciding that the girlfriend's wrath wouldn't be aroused by his response, spoke up, letting Sam drive without interruptions or distractions. "Family tradition for my folks. Every holiday relatives come over, we list something we're grateful for – Seeing as today is the fourth, my folks will be expecting something along of the lines of 'Religious freedom' and 'Freedom of Speech."' but that's a bit vague, considering those two are already covered in the Bill of Rights." Miles fell silent.

Sam shook his head, even as he pulled in front of a roadside Fireworks booth. "Sorry, meant to ask, what makes today special for you?"

The guy manning the booth, doing brisk business exchanging the primed and wrapped colored mini-firecrackers for wards of cash or stacks of coins overheard them. "Selling the last of my stock so I can leave the heat and sun." He turned back to the paying customers. "Thank you for your patronage. Come again next year."

Miles perused the half-empty shelves. "We should have bought our fireworks three days ago." He mock complained.

The seller laughed. "Not to worry boys, I still have some specialty boxes left." He reached beneath the countertop and pulled out a huge container of mixed fireworks, flares, and other small-time miniature rockets. "Will this suffice?"

Miles reached for the boys, eyes wide with delight. "Thanks Tony."

"it's Anthony," the man playfully pouted. Sam forked over the appropriate change. "You here seriously wanting to know what makes today special for me?"

Mikaela nodded. The boys were too busy checking out the contents, of their recent purchase to pay attention. "Yes sir."

"None of that 'Sir' business young lady. I never served." He took care of another four customers before he could come back to Mikaela.

"This is the one time of the year everyone remembers what our families, our fathers, our friends, the grandparents and themselves sacrificed blood, tears, and lives for. Today we realize that the cost was indeed worth it, and that the those who died in war did not die in vain. As a nation, we celebrate the fact we have a choice today, to express ourselves in our own way. That we are no longer slaves to the system, and slaves to traditions, because of the ongoing sacrifice of blood and lives freely given.

"Now, what about you missy? What makes today especially special for you?"

Mikaela shrugged her shoulders. "I just like making things go boom."

"I new it!" crowed Miles. "You're a pyromaniac! A firebug!"

"I don't set fires indiscriminately," shot back Mikaela. I exercise control when lighting things containing gunpowder – "

Sam waved his friends back to the car. "See you next year, Antonio."

"It's Anthony!" The seller shouted. "Anthony, you ungrateful brat."

Bumblebee carefully peeled out once his passengers were inside. He was not fond of carrying ready-made explosions, even if they were designed to be relatively harmless and safe to handle until the fuse was lit.

As the Autobot ferried Sam and his friends around, Bumblebee reflected on the answers Sam and Mikeala (and Miles) gave/received as they asked random strangers 'What makes today special for you?'

A lot of people pressing around the trio of teenagers either did not give much thought to what they celebrated – citing things like a "paid holiday" or "excuse to party", or "Vacation time" – but a lot of others mentioned remembering freedom – freedom from discrimination, freedom to own guns, freedom to protect themselves, freedom to express themselves, etc – and the right of decisions of choice.

Bumblebee still did not care for the night time explosions. (Honestly, people shooting guns or blowing noise makers up, or burning sticks of dynamite, and the like, just because made no sense whatsoever) but having learned the meaning behind the celebration, Bee found he could enjoy the bright flashes of light.

Bumblebee flinched when the rockets flew into the air, shrieking defiance right as they burst into ripples and stars of color, but he did not jump, knowing that there was no air-attack. It was just the humans' love for lights, for loud noises, and for pretty explosions that made the Town's Fireworks show enjoyable, and not dreaded.