Okay! One Chapter left. And if you have cried during this fic before, I warn you, do not go on. It's VEEERRRYY depressing. And please, no flames.
XXxxXX
(Two months later)
Bumblebee had watched helplessly as Sam began showing physical signs of disability, and sickness. His hearing was failing, and sometimes he would black out. When Ratchet had found out, he had assigned Bumblebee to watch Sam like a hawk. Sam had been confined to a wheelchair already, which deeply saddened the Autobots in whole. The sight of his friend, despite his condition, laughing like all those years ago, made Bumblebee's spark ache. The cancer had spread rapidly, and it was only a matter of time until…Until…Sam was beyond help. It was too late. Sam, the friend that, indeed had neglected him, abused him, even shot him, had at most a month left.
Sam wheeled in. A sympathetic look was on his middle aged face.
"Hey there, Bee. I just talked with Ratchet." Bumblebee's spark skipped worriedly.
"And…?" He dared to ask.
"I have a week." He smiled sadly.
XXxxXX
Bumblebee spent as much of his time with Sam as he could. Optimus had assured him that the twins would cover for him, but that assurance was…unassuring….
Sam was sitting in Bumblebee's passenger seat, leaned against the door. They were on their way over to a drive-in movie, whose name Sam kept a secret. The radio fizzed. "Sam, what are we going to see?" Sam smiled.
"You'll see." Sam's attention went to a police car driving alongside them. An all-too-familiar silver boom box trembled and shifted, transforming into a sharp little robot.
"Three o'clock, Bee." Sam warned.
"I see 'em."
Just then, Barricade swerved, knocking the yellow Autobot off-road and into a barrel roll. Sam sat, regaining sense, and piecing together what had just happened. He shook his head when Bumblebee spoke.
"Are you okay Sam?!" The Camaro sounded distraught.
"I'm fine Bee." He said, ignoring the bloody gash on his hairline. Bumblebee was about to make a remark about it, but when Sam shot him a reassuring smile, he didn't bother. Barricade and Frenzy had disappeared, surprisingly, giving the police cruiser wasn't the type to give up on a hunt.
"Alright…" Bumblebee said. "But I guess we can't go to a movie. Could we?" He asked to know one in particular.
"Sure we could. Just clean up the blood." Sam said, pulling out a napkin from his pocket.
"I suppose you're correct…" And Bumblebee took off again.
XXxxXX
"That was pretty good….What was that movie called again?"
"I have no idea…I was trying to focus on the plot. That movie was okay, but really confusing……."
"Yeah…It kinda was, huh? But I'm glad we got to spend time with you, BB." Bumblebee's spark cringed.
"So am I Sam." He felt lubricant leak from his optics. How am I going to get along without you, Sam?...
XXxxXXxxXX
(Five days later)
Sam lay motionless on the berth. The entire room was hushed. The middle aged man had had a heart attack that morning. It was now 5 pm. Bumblebee was crouched next to Sam praying to Primus, that Sam would be okay. Ratchet knew what would happen in the next few minutes. So did Bumblebee. Sam reached out for Bumblebee's finger, and grasped it. He looked up to Bee, smiled, then died.