Okay. This has nothing to do with my 'Side Effects' storyline. Just something that popped into my head and I had to get it down. It's a bit darker than any of my other stories, except for maybe my Trick 'R Treat one, but...yeah. Just to clear this up right away, Sam wasemotionally and physically abused, but not sexually. I just can't do rape scenes...I hate seeing the character being hurt like that. Yet, I'm going to have to do one for my other story anyway...Oh well. Please enjoy and tell me what you think. I'm a bit unsure about this one.


Sam hurried away from his house, his heart pounding wildly. The bruise on his cheek was already starting to throb painfully. He'd had to get away from his parents, even if he'd be in big trouble later. For his entire life, Sam had kept a dark secret from everybody around him: his parents abused him. The teen was punished for things other people considered small and meaningless. Once, his father had beaten him until he bled for not doing the dishes. He'd been six years old. At school, he was a social outcast. Nobody wanted to hang out with the quiet, withdrawn boy that never spoke and wore make-up; Sam had gotten rather talented at covering up what his parents had done to him over the years. The boy hadn't had a friend in the world until a year ago.

The boy had worked and worked to earn enough money to buy a car. To him, a car would be a way to get away from the hell that he called home. After months of working, he'd finally made enough to get a used car, and as soon as he could, headed to the nearest car lot. A yellow and black 1969 Camaro had caught his eye right away, and, after bargaining with the dealer for a couple hours, he bought it. Sam was very pleased with his purchase; the car, though old-looking, ran like a dream. The only strange thing was the radio, which would switch randomly, or so it seemed, between stations. Later, when Sam thought about it, the type of song that played was had some sort of connection to his mood.

After a week of owning the car, Sam received the surprise that would completely change his life when a police car started following him down the road one evening. His car took control and started driving itself, and a wild chase ensued. The chase ended when the boy's 'car' transformed into a giant mechanical being. Sam watched the following fight between the two giant robots, fear and fascination keeping him rooted to the spot. The yellow robot that had been his car won and turned, starting to walk over to Sam. When the blue optics fell on him, the fear of being hurt, which was deeply ingrained inside of him thanks to his parents, overcame him, and Sam ran away as fast as he could. The next few days had been spent hiding from his car, feigning illness to get out of school.

One evening, his car was gone from the driveway, and Sam, desperate to get out of the house, dared to go outside. He walked down towards the forest at the edge of the city, figuring his car would stick to roads, and slipped through the trees like a shadow. In the years he'd lived, he'd learned how to disappear and sink into shadows. That particular skill had saved him many a beating. Before long, he came to a natural clearing. It was one of the places that he would go to for peace and quiet. He settled against a tree and quickly fell asleep, the stress from the past week taking a heavy toll on his already aching body. He woke up a couple hours later by soft, unfamiliar voices with a smooth metallic undertone.

"Are you sure this human is the right one?" a gruff voice asked.

There was a broken whistle before another voice spoke. "Bumblebee wouldn't have called us here if he wasn't sure." The voice was deep and full of authority. The thing that made Sam open his eyes to see who had spoken, however, was the comfort and safety the voice promised.

His change in heart rate gave him away; his pulse sped up as he stared up at the five giant robots around him. They all looked down at him with bright blue optics, and the greenish one closest to him knelt down in front of him, staring at him curiously. As the mech reached for him, Sam was filled with fear and tried to bolt into the thick protection of the forest. He was grabbed up before he could make it, and found himself in a large metal hand. He actually yelped in fear as the group of robots stared at him. The yellow and black one that had been his car made a static noise and grabbed the green one's wrist, looking angry.

"I'm not squeezing him that hard, Bumblebee," the green one said, putting a strange twill at the end of his words. Bumblebee's actions only made Sam more afraid.

"P-please! Let me go!"

"Calm down, little one. We aren't going to harm you," the one with the deep voice said. It turned out to be the red and blue one.

"Pitiful little thing, isn't he?" the black one asked, he gruff voice holding amusement.

Sam went eerily still and stared at the black mech with a blank expression as the words brought up a torrent of painful memories. A belt being brought down on bare skin, again and again until the welts started to bleed...Being shoved into the wall as a small child and beaten badly before his parents left, leaving him alone for a week to fend for himself...His father picking him up by the back of his shirt and bringing his fist back to strike...And all the time, that one word uttered again and again. Pitiful, pitiful, pitiful, PITIFUL!

"Samuel!" The green mech broke him out of the flashbacks. Sam realized that he was now sitting in the mech's cupped hands. "Are you alright? Your vitals are all over the place!"

"I-I'm fine," Sam muttered. "What the hell do you want, anyways? If you're going to hurt me, just get it over with."

"I already told you that we will not harm you," the blue and red one said gently.

"Damn. That was quite a mood swing," Ironhide muttered.

"Now, I believe we should introduce ourselves, as we already know your name. My name is Optimus Prime. My First Lieutenant, Jazz." The smallest one with the silver paint job. "Our medical officer, Ratchet." The green one that held him. "Our weapons specialist, Ironhide." The black one with the big guns and smart mouth. "And your guardian, Bumblebee."

Sam looked around at them, unsure of how to react, but feeling strangely safe with these mechs. "So...what do you guys want? Why are you here? Where are you from?"

"Boy, he wastes no time," Ironhide snickered. Bumblebee moved in front of Ironhide and hissed. The black mech looked surprised. "Sorry." Bumblebee backed up, his optics narrowed on Ironhide.

"We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," Optimus replied with a soft chuckle. He found the human's attitude shifts quite amusing, to say in the least.

"But you can call us Autobots for short," Ratchet added.

"Autobots," Sam murmured softly.

"And to answer your other questions..." Optimus began.

Optimus taught Sam about the Allspark, Megatron, and the Cybertronian War that had been going on for millennium before sending the boy home for his great-grandfather's glasses. Over the next few days, he had helped the Autobots beat the Decepticon leader and wiped all data of them out, even from the government. The latter part of the task actually hadn't been that hard, what with all the advanced technology the Autobots had. The Autobots were now living outside the city, deep in the forest where they had built a secret base. Sam loved visiting them, and did so every chance he got. The only other humans that knew of the Autobots existence were the soldiers that had helped him during the city battle, led by William Lennox and Robert Epps, Maggie, and Glen. Sam knew that they all tried to visit as often as possible, but they all had jobs and lived further away than he did.

Sam was silent as he sat in an alley reminiscing about how he met the Autobots. He finally sighed and stood up, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head to hide the fresh bruise before walking into a nearby store and slipping into the bathroom. He made sure the lock was in place before he slung his backpack, which he'd grabbed in the mad dash to get out of the house, onto the sink. He shrugged out of his jacket and, after tossing it over the back of the toilet, unzipped his bag, pulling out his make-up kit.

Sam pulled his the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt up past his elbows, as he found it easier to apply the make-up that way, and stared at the scars decorating his skin. He new that there were over seventy, and the sad thing was, those were only the ones on his forearms; his father loved throwing him into glass things and watching him bleed. Sam shook his head and quickly washed his face and reapplied his make-up. He stared at the finished product before him. He had been wearing make-up in the first grade, when girls were just playing with the stuff. But all the time in between when he first started wearing make-up and the present time had been time with which he could perfect the art of applying it. His skin was the nice even brown that it should be, with no bruises or cuts, while black lined his eyes and colored his lips. His black hair was down past his shoulders, but his clothes were such pure black that you couldn't tell where the hair ended. If anybody ever asked who the first goth in his grade was, Sam was immediately pointed out.

The boy finally moved and replaced everything into his bag, slipped his jacket back on, and left the store. He stood out on a street corner and pulled out a cell phone, calling his guardian. Bumblebee picked up on the second ring.

"Yes, Sam?" he asked quietly.

"I need you to come pick me up. I'm staying over with you guys this weekend."

"I'm on my way, Sam."

Sam didn't even ask if the yellow mech needed his location; he knew Bumblebee could track the signal in his phone. The boy crossed his arms and leaned against the building behind him, patiently waiting for his guardian. After about five minutes, there was a drunken laugh from across the street and Sam's eyes popped open in surprise. Across the street was Trent and his gang, eying him eagerly. Sam cursed under his breath and pushed away from the building, walking quickly down the sidewalk. He could hear them following behind him, and he walked faster, fear rushing through him. He didn't want to face Trent right now. He wasn't in the mood, but that wouldn't stop the bully from getting in his face. Trent hated his guts and seemed determined to rip said guts out of his body.

"Hey, fagot!" Trent called out to him. "Wait up!"

Sam broke into a run, but knew it was no use. Sure enough, Trent effortlessly caught up to him and grabbed him, pinning him to the nearest thing available, which happened to be a tree. Sam swallowed nervously and stared into the blue eyes that were filled with such hatred and disgust.

"Where do you think you're going? I told you to wait," Trent growled in his face.

When Sam didn't reply, Trent slugged him in the stomach. Sam doubled over, gasping for air as pain lashed through his body, making his vision blur. As Trent raised his fist again, Sam heard a familiar engine growling and nearly sobbed in relief as he barreled through the barrier that Trent's gang had made around him. Bumblebee turned the corner and the passenger door swung open. Sam dove into the car and slammed the door behind him. The boy relaxed as Bumblebee drove him away from his tormentors and towards the Autobot base. The first half of the drive was made in silence, but his guardian broke it with a statement.

"You're wearing more make-up then usual."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Sam opened his eyes and stared up at the stars, not answering the question for a moment. One thing that made him special amongst the other humans that knew the Autobots was something he could do. He'd noticed all of the Autobots pointing out lies from everybody else, yet they never caught him. It was like he was telling the truth all the time, and Optimus had actually thanked him for his honesty once. Sam had lied his whole life, to everybody around him, and it had become so natural that it didn't affect his heart rate or anything else that would give him away.

"Why?" Bumblebee repeated.

"They jumped me once before tonight," Sam lied easily, staring out the window.

"Oh. Well, Ratchet should take a look at it when we get there, right?"

Sam shrugged listlessly, and heard Bumblebee sigh in disappointment. All the Autobots had been trying to get him to open up to them, to trust them like they trusted him, but Sam just couldn't do it. He'd been hurt so many times that he didn't really know what trust was. To be honest, he didn't really know how to socialize, either. He felt strange whenever one of the Autobots sat down to have a conversation with him, and the Autobot did all the talking. All the conversations were bad in some way. Jazz was the one who tried to get him to socialize. He would sit down and talk to Sam like they were best friends, and then pause and just stare at him. The mech wouldn't start talking again until he got some sort of verbal reply from Sam. Ratchet was no better, as he wanted very much to look over Sam's body. The boy just couldn't let that happen, because all the scars would reveal that something was off about his life. Ironhide was the easiest to talk to; Sam just had to sidetrack the black mech with a question about a weapon, and Ironhide was immediately distracted. Sam had to admit that he'd learned a whole lot about Cybertronian weaponry from that mech. Bumblebee would try to open him up, asking questions about his feelings and the goings-on of his day. Sam couldn't help but feel a bit guilty when Bumblebee was upset at his lack of response to the questions. But out of all of the Autobots, Optimus Prime himself was the worst. The mech would sit down and ask a question. When Sam would finally give an answer, the mech's blue optics seemed to be analyzing him and his answer, and it made the boy uncomfortable. The human teen knew that he had to tread carefully around Optimus, as he was the one who seemed to sense something about Sam was different from the other humans.

"Sam, we're here."

Sam slipped out of the car and was greeted by the biting scent of pine. They were close to the Autobot base, but had to walk the last bit as none of their car forms would fit through the small spaces in the trees. Sam started walking towards the base while Bumblebee transformed into his robot mode. His guardian quickly caught up to him and picked him up in his hands. The boy relaxed into the warm yellow metal, sighing as the dull ache in his body made itself known. His stomach wasn't feeling so bad, but his cheek was slightly throbbing. The journey to the base was swift, and as Bumblebee walked in, the other Autobots looked up.

"You're wearing more make-up then usual, Samuel," Ratchet remarked immediately.

"He was jumped. Twice," Bumblebee replied, hot anger coloring his voice. "They left a mark on his face, I bet."

"Hmm. May I see it?" Ratchet asked hopefully.

"It's just a bruise," Sam grumbled, pressing tiredly into Bumblebee.

"Oh. Alright."

Damn! He hated hearing any of the Autobots so disappointed, but he wasn't about to let Ratchet look him over. After a moment of silence Optimus walked over to Bumblebee and peered closely at Sam. The boy got the feeling that he was being analyzed again and there was a sweep of fear through him as he hoped he wasn't found out. Optimus evidently saw nothing of interest and reached up to stroke the boy's back.

"Stop that!" Sam snarled and pulled away from the gentle hand.

"Why?" Optimus countered.

"I don't like being treated as a pet!"

"I never said you were a pet, Sam," Optimus stated matter-of-factly.

"Then why the hell do you have to pet me?" Sam mumbled irritably.

"Hey man, I explained it to ya already," Jazz said, sidling up to them. "It's the way we Autobots share affection and show that we're good friends."

"Well, I don't like it."

"Sounds like somebody's tired," Ratchet chuckled. "I think you'd better go to bed, little one."

"Don't call me little," Sam groused as he pulled his hood on.

"Why are you doing that?" Ironhide asked quietly.

Sam didn't reply, instead, curling tighter against Bumblebee. The black mech wasn't so easily dissuaded though.

"Answer me, boy," Ironhide growled. When Sam remained silent, Ironhide made his way angrily over to the boy.

"Ironhide, don't you dare!" Bumblebee snarled, pulling Sam close to his chest.

"He needs to learn respect!"

"He's tired right now, and in pain. Let him rest! Isn't he usually respectful? Hmm?"

"To a degree, yes, but past that, no! He never answers any personal questions without a lot of, what should be unnecessary, prodding!"

"Ironhide," Optimus said quietly. "Don't start this now. Leave it be until morning."

The black mech snorted in anger, but did as Optimus said and left Sam alone. Silence coaxed Sam to relax and go to sleep, and he eagerly settled in against his guardian. Right before he fell asleep, he could swear he heard somebody singing a lullaby.