Blood, Guts, and Transformers (Sam Witwicky X Reader)

Prologue

The Texan air was hot around me as I sat on the porch of the two-story house. The trees blew in the slight breeze, and a glass of lemonade was beside me, halfway consumed. There was a melodious squeak from the rusted chain that held the swinging bench up from the post it was attached to, my foot encouraging its beat by pushing against the railing of the porch. There was condensation on the glass, scrambling down to the wood of the end table, darkening the brown material. There was no worry, no danger, no sadness within my world.

A sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala was in the driveway, right beside a 2015 Chevy Camaro, the two cars complimenting each other nicely. The grey of the Camaro was complimented with black racing stripes, and a gleam from the chrome of both cars illuminated the whole porch. The sound of a screen door opening caught my attention, and I looked over, seeing my father holding a plate of apple pie in his hands, two forks seated on the side of the plate. His green eyes flashed a wide smile at me, pearly whites showing, and he walked over to me.

The man, known as Dean Winchester to friends and some family, sat beside me and greeted me.

"You've been out here almost all afternoon, sweetheart. Is there something we need to talk about?"

I snatched a fork from the plate and shoved it into a piece of the pie, taking a bite and replying.

"No, I don't think so. I'm just enjoying the Texan air for once. It's...bearable today."

Dad chuckled and replied, ruffling my hair.

"Of course. I know that moving from Kansas to Texas was a big move, I didn't want to move either, but it was for the best. You understand that, right?"

I sighed and replied, looking at the valley of cornfields and wheat fields, grass, and trees before me.

"I know. I guess I'm just not used to being away from Uncle Sam. Living in that bunker with Cas and Uncle Sam was our thing. We're...normal."

Dad chuckled and ate some pie himself, nodding.

"I know it was strange for us to live in a bunker, but hey, it was appeasable, wasn't it?"

I sighed and replied, looking up at my dad.

"Yeah, in a way. Not every kid can say they lived in a bunker."

"That's my girl. I've gotta get ready for Lisa and I's little vacation up to Chicago. We're gonna be leaving in three days. You can handle yourself for two weeks, right?"

I rolled my eyes and replied.

"I'm seventeen, not five. I can handle myself."

My dad softened his green eyes and kissed my forehead, murmuring quietly.

"I know. I just hate how you're growing up so fast."

"We'll be ok. I promise."

It was a shame that it wouldn't be ok and that two weeks would turn into forever.