Author's Note: I mean to upload a chapter weekly, but life sort of handed me a grenade last week and it slowed down my progress with this chapter. I have struggled to force this chapter into submission and more than once I wasn't happy with it at all. I've gotten it to a good point now, though, and things are starting to ramp up.

I own nothing and will put the characters back when I am done, except Gregory Witwicky who I made exclusively for this story.

…

Sam changed his mind. He took it back; he didn't feel bad for the mech sitting in his own sorry state. He was dealing with a five year old. Now that the mech knew that Sam knew they were sentient they'd become….well, cheeky was one word for it. They couldn't move much of anything and their voice box was still shot, but they found ways of getting their point across when Sam did something they didn't like. Which, apparently, was anything he needed to do to help. He was thankful they couldn't move the hood yet otherwise he was certain he'd be nursing a serious goose egg by now. Or squashed fingers.

Because the mech still couldn't connect to the radio, Sam concluded they would be unable to connect to the internet to gain an understanding of English. So he found some kids English language learning videos and let them play while he worked so that, hopefully, the mech would gain some sort of understanding of what he was saying. He also talked a lot. Toddlers learned by repetitive hearing. Maybe a Cybertronian could learn the same way. He preferred it to working in silence in any case.

"I didn't know you guys could mask the way your internal parts looked too. I can kind of see they're not really human in origin, but that's because of…my friend." He could feel the engine shudder under his hands just noticeably. "Oh knock it off, or I will leave the wrench in here all night." He heard the door lift slightly before slamming back down. The attitude. "Yeah, yeah." Imperceptibly he could feel the engine lift, straining against its bolts, towards his hand. Sam froze, breath caught in his throat.

In his mind a sharp crack echoed along with a short electrical squeal.

His own yelling voice.

He shook his head and snapped his hand away as he shoved the panic down and away.

"No." He said quickly. "Keep doing that all you want, but you aren't going to get your way!" Sam snapped when he heard the slamming yet again. He wasn't sure if the mech understood what they were asking for, Sam wasn't even completely certain. "I could really hurt you." He made sure to keep his tone firm so that even if they didn't understand his words, they understood he meant 'no'. When he made no move to do anything else, the mech settled. Sam started in again. He pressed play on another video to fill the silence.

Now that he was able to really sit and notice, he could feel that energy thrumming in the mech if he pressed his hand flat to the metal. It was tempting to just give in and let his own energy drown him and see what happens, but he refused to give in. He was a danger. Not just to himself, but to every Cybertronian around him.

"I wish you could tell me your name." Sam mused after a while. This mech had chosen a luxury car. Flashy. Once eye-catching, but now aged and fading. Yellow….much like his first encounter with their kind. "Steaky, maybe."

The grinding sound made a reappearance, indignant.

Sam chuckled. "Sorry, sorry, that was mean."

He could hear music start to kick up from the street along with conversation and laughter. It had been low and muted before, but everything was picking up speed now. Right. The block party. His uncle had mentioned it sometime a few weeks ago. Sam sighed as he straightened everything back up and wiped his hands on a towel that was covered with blue stains. He could feel the sudden intensity of the mech focusing on him as much as could be possible. He placed a hand on the hood once he closed it, thumbing over the metal in an unconscious gesture. He didn't want to leave and was struck with the sudden desire to crawl into the front seat and just sit. And talk. And exist. This wasn't Bumblebee, he reminded himself, this could be a Decepticon he was fixing up.

"My uncle will come and drag my ass if I don't show up." He said. Good thing was that he didn't have to stay any longer than his Uncle, who would undoubtedly reach his social limit and retreat back to his house before too long. "See you tomorrow."

...

After a shower and change of clothes, and a final check in with the mech in the back, Sam joined the small community outside. There was music, grills, an awesome spread of homemade food and a set up of games for the kids. It made him ache for home as it reminded him of fourth of July with his dad at the grill and his mom nagging him not to burn the food, family and friends crowded into their backyard and, more recently, a car or two parked nearby to take in the human activity.

Uncle Gregory was off to the side nursing a beer and talking with Harris, letting the larger man take control of the conversation. The larger man locked eyes with Sam and Sam held up a hand, indicating he was fine, then turned to the table of food. He let himself get lost in the activity for a while, enjoying the ebb and flow of life around him as the sun set and gave way to a cool evening. He passed from pointless conversation to pointless conversation. Eating, listening, drinking and not talking much of himself.

"Sorry!" Sam spluttered suddenly as beer went everywhere. It was hardly his fault his uncle's drunk neighbor decided to try and dance when he didn't fully have spatial awareness, but it was easier to just apologize anyway.

The man went red faced, redder faced, and slurred, "Watch where you're going fuck head!" He reminded Sam very much of a bully in high school he used to know. He then used both hands to shove Sam over. It didn't take much. The man had biceps like iron and he was only half the guys size. Sam hit the ground hard.

CRACK!

A sharp line of electricity ran along the ground like lightening, gone just as quickly.

The stereo made a high pitch whine and every streetlight flickered before the light bulbs started popping one by one. It created an instant effect as people started panicking and screaming as the street was cast into darkness. Phones started squealing and flickering. House lights started flashing. It was chaos.

Sam wanted desperately for the ground to swallow him whole.

He got up and fled during the panic, ignoring his Uncle's desperate calls at his retreating back.

Someone grabbed at his arm. Alarm bells went off loudly in his head and his body reacted before he could. Or rather, the energy did. Harris yelped as a bolt leapt off Sam's arm and hit him square in the chest reacting to Sam's desire to just get away. Sam whirled around, wide eyed, barely in time to see Harris regain his balance and missing the flicker that occurred over Harris' body upon impact of the energy bolt. He locked eyes with Harris, like a deer in headlights. Neither man moved or breathed.

"Samuel-" Harris started, not sounding much like a man who was just struck in the chest.

Sam bolted for the house.

Damn it all!

He didn't stop until he got inside and slammed his bedroom door behind him, locking it. The marks weren't littering his skin this time, but one look in the mirror nearly gave him a heart attack. Bright, electric blue eyes stared back at him like little headlamps. His pupil wasn't even black, rather it was a bright white. He didn't even look human right now. He took the nearest object and slammed it into the mirror before he could think.

Glass rained down as his heart pounded in his ears.

"Sam!" His uncle was on the other side of the door, breathless. "Sam are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Sam shouted back, unable to stop his voice from breaking. He heard the doorknob jiggle. "I'm fine!" He repeated.

"Let me in Samuel." His uncle demanded.

Sam sank to the ground and buried his head in his knees, unable to stop the flow of emotion from escaping him. Hot tears streamed down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to unlock the door and prove to his uncle that his nephew was some sort of freak. How much of the neighborhood had seen what had happened? Harris knew he was. He had to know. How else was he to explain what had happened? Extreme static electricity? It was just a matter of time before he was run out of town. A matter of time before NEST decided to lock him away.

"Please." Sam said quietly. "Just go away."

...

He wanted to float in darkness and quiet because it was better than the chaos that followed him.

There was no angry mob waiting for him in the morning and that was sort of anticlimactic. Still, it was a relief. Sam was a little surprised to come out of his room to silence (he was certain his Uncle would have been upset after last night), but red eyed and sleepless, he was grateful he was alone.

Sam found a note on the counter from Gregory stating that he would be at the garage and to call if he needed anything. Seriously. Anything.

Sam felt a pang of guilt as he stood in the silent kitchen now that he was on the other side of the event. Once he'd locked himself in the room he hadn't come back out, no matter how much Gregory had pleaded. Not while his eyes were…like that. Thankfully his eyes were back to normal now, but it had taken several hours for the glow to finally dissipate.

He wasn't hungry. He wasn't feeling much of anything really. So he slid his shoes on (still in his pajama pants and sleep shirt) and went into the backyard. He pulled out his tools and pressed his hand to the warm metal of the hood of the Lamborghini.

"Morning." He murmured, his voice rough and raw from last night. "I'm not going to the shop today so," he hummed and put his tools down as he took in the sight of the worn down Cybertronian. They were scuffed and dirty, layers of dirt and muck from years of sitting out in the backyard in disuse. He knew how he felt after being sick and unable to take care of himself. He could only imagine this mech felt similar. "You know what, change of plans." He ran back inside and to the garage where he hunted down a bucket, a few sponges and grabbed the bottle of car wash. He hunted down the softest towel he could that wasn't for the bathroom and then went back outside. He filled the bucket with soap and water then dunked the sponge in. "I think you could use a bath, don't you?" He asked and pressed his hand to the hood. "A friend of mine always liked it, so I imagine you might too." He stepped back and doused the Lamborghini with the hose. There was a sudden squeal and grinding noise as the cold water hit the body of the car that he could only describe as shocked.

"Sorry about that," he apologized through a small smile. "Hose water is cold." He didn't stop until the entire body was wet and then turned off the hose so he could go in with the sponge and soap. He took his time scrubbing every stubborn spot until they were gone. He was gentle and slow, making sure the mech knew when he was moving by keeping his hand on the car as he shifted so he didn't surprise them.

By the time he was satisfied he could swear the car was resting lower on their shocks, relaxed. After a final rinse he dried of every inch with the towel until the Lamborghini was gleaming as much as possible. The paint job was sun faded and there was clear damage, but they looked so much better. He hoped they felt better too. He picked up a little washcloth then tapped on the passenger door. There was a moment of hesitation, but the door swung open to allow him in. Sam gave the inside a good wipe down and made a mental note to pick up some leather conditioner. As he was going over the dusty steering wheel he saw the Autobot symbol in the middle of it, but it looked….wrong. The edges were raw and jagged, not smooth, like someone had cut the metal and slapped it on before smoothing it out.

Sam decided not to think on it further and take the indication for what it was. That this was a friend, not foe.

He got out and admired his handiwork.

"Feel better?" He started to clean up, taking note that he was going to have to change his wet clothes sooner rather than later and shower himself.

"Thank you."

Sam dropped the bucket and whirled around. The voice that had spoken had been staticky and did not sound human though the words that came out were English, though with an accent that he could only describe as Cybertronian because he'd never heard anything like it before. The words were spoken broken, harsh around the consonants and soft with the vowels. Clumsy. But clear.

Those videos, his talking, all this time, it had worked. Sam couldn't believe his ears.

"You're welcome."

The mech didn't attempt to talk again and that was fine. Sam walked back into the house feeling much lighter.

...

Sam showered and straightened up his room before just existing in the living room. He wasn't really paying attention to the documentary on the television when there was a knock on the front door. It was barely lunch time and everyone in the neighborhood knew that Gregory would be running the auto shop right now. Sam went and opened the door, not entirely shocked to see Harris on the other side of it.

"Uncle Greg's not here." Sam said automatically even though they both knew that wasn't why he was there.

"I know." He rumbled. "I wanted to talk to you Sam. May I enter?"

Sam entertained the idea of saying 'no'. Harris would take it, he was sure, and would leave. But then there would be the wondering. The wondering of what he wanted looming over like a thundercloud. It was best to just get it over with. Maybe he could lessen the damage somehow and keep his uncle as far out of the loop as possible. Sam rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground, and said, "Yeah, I guess." He moved aside and let the man inside, closing the door behind him. Harris was a tall man, but inside of the older style living room he looked impossibly large. "Do you want anything to drink?" Sam asked out of politeness more than anything.

"No, thank you." Harris said. He didn't move to sit even as Sam went and perched on the edge of a worn brown lazy boy. He wasn't fidgeting, but he looked nervous for some reason. It didn't make sense because Sam should feel as though he were in the hot seat after last night. There was a pregnant pause in which neither man spoke or moved. "Samuel," he started. "Are you alright?"

Sam blinked, confused. That was it? Are you alright? He gaped.

"Y-yeah?" He finally managed. "Are you? Last night was kind of crazy, right?"

Harris leveled him with a patient look that reminded him so much of the one Optimus Prime used when Sam was dancing around the issue.

"Samuel, I haven't been truthful to you the entire time you've been here. I admit I was hesitant simply because it seems as though you are running from something, but last night…."

Sam's stomach dropped and his blood went ice cold as his face lost all color. Nest. He should have known. The vague military background. The lack of reaction to last night.

"Electrical outages happen all the time, especially in small towns, I don't know if you think I had something to do with it-" Sam started rambling. Harris held up a hand, sensing the boy's increasing panic.

"Samuel. Please. I want to show you something." He rolled up his sleeve to bare his skin and held up his right forearm. Sam watched as it fuzzed then green symbols and lines appeared over his skin. They bounced around for a moment before knitting together to create the Autobot insignia. He wasn't NEST. Somehow, he was a cybertronian. "You know me as Harris, but my name is Autobot Hound. I landed here in this little town not long after Prime sent his message into the stars. My systems had taken damage from the war that I needed time to repair. I meant to regroup with the others, but I'd gotten caught up in just watching over this town."

Sam sat, speechless.

"You're an Autobot? But how?" His eyes roved over the human form. He'd never seen any of them do that before. He didn't know they could.

"I figured out a way to interact with your kind without drawing attention to myself. I was so fascinated by humans, and I wanted to get closer, but I didn't want to spook anyone. My true form is outside."

"No one sent you?" Sam asked warily.

"I don't have much contact with the others lately and I'm not known to NEST. I am here of my own accord. Our coexistence in this area is purely coincidental. But I'm concerned about what's been going on with you."

"Nothing." Sam bit out quickly as he stood. Harris shot out a hand and it was impressive as to how real it felt. He could feel the weight and grip even though it also felt off. He could feel energy thrumming through Harris' hand in reaction to the proximity to Sam.

"Please. Ratchet reached out to me not long after you arrived, asking to keep an eye on you. You'd come into contact with the Allspark not once, but twice, and he is concerned it has done something to you."

Sam ripped his arm from Harris' hand.

"Ratchet knows where I went? I didn't even tell….anyone. How did he find out?" His voice was edging towards hysterical. He didn't mention his condition nor where he planned on going. How long had they known? Did NEST know?

"Samuel, calm down." Harris was firm and pushed on his shoulders so he would sit back down. "He does not know the extent of what's going on with you. But he knows where you are the same way I do. He can feel it."

"Feel?" Sam squeaked out.

"Yes. I can sense you the same way we could sense the Allspark. You aren't always broadcasting, but there are surges, most notably when you are stressed." Harris -Hound, cast his eyes to the window in a nervous gesture. "I was concerned that the Decepticons could sense you as well, but you energy signature is different that that of the Allspark. If they can sense it, I don't think they understand what it is and don't seem interested in investigating." Sam heard the unspoken 'so far' in his voice.

"So what do you want?" Sam asked at length. "To take me back? Tell Optimus?"

Hound considered the question before answering. "I encourage you to. I was part of Kaon Security Services back on Cybertron, were we there now I would have taken you to Prime myself for your safety." From the look in his eyes he was still considering the option. "This is not Cybertron, however. You would be safer with them."

Sam looked at his hands and laughed depreciatingly. "They wouldn't be safe with me."

"Sam-"

"Please don't tell them what's going on. Not yet. Not until I figure out how to control….this." Sam pleaded.

Hound sighed, shoulders sinking, and looking physically torn.

"For now." He acquiesced reluctantly. He stopped Sam before he could speak, adding, "The moment you are in danger, however, I will take you back to them myself. No arguments or struggle, understood?"

Sam didn't like it, but he saw little choice other than to nod his head. "Yeah, fine."

Ladiesman217. Designation: Samuel James Witwicky. Mission: Locate. Note: Do NOT engage with target. Target is known to have protection. Send information regarding Witwicky directly to Lord Megatron. Report general findings to Barricade.

Mission: fa-fail-…

Critical system error.

Reboot.

Systems online.

System diagnosis: Repair required.

Self-repair: started.

Estimation: Thirty one days, twelve hours, sixteen minutes, four seconds.

Mission: Accepted.