Transformers is not mine. Believe. I'd be richer if it was.

If it weren't for the fact that it was weird, Sam wouldn't have cared at all. Frankly, he liked the idea of Megatron leaving him the hell alone.

It was just... he was, but he wasn't.

Sam was used to being ignored by the Deceptacons. He'd been living with them for years, and he was the only organic lifeform most of them saw most of the time. After being a novelty for a few months, Sam had been relegated, for the most part, to the role of 'ignored oddity'. He enjoyed that role, in all honesty, just off to the side, ignored and pretty much left alone. Megatron never really ignored him, but he figured that was because he was the robot's pet, which meant at least a little attention had to be paid to him.

But this... this was weird. The Deceptacons were ignoring him - but it was active ignorance. It was like every time they came into the room, they had to consciously remind themselves to ignore him. He was being ignored so intently he felt like they were watching him constantly. Beady, glowing mechanical eyes on him constantly.

It was... disturbing.

Even Megatron was ignoring him, which made him feel even weirder.

Sam even tried to get a reaction a few times. He tried to rip off the bling, but it dug little sharp fingers into his skin, and held on until he had to stop pulling, or rip out chunks of his own flesh. Bleeding and sore, he headed back to the Hall of Assholes, assuming he'd find an angry Megatron, but instead, the giant machine barely glanced at him before returning to the assignment he was giving Bonecrusher.

Another time, he tried burrowing down in his little hole in the old car, determined to stay there until someone came looking for him. He stayed there until he ran out of food, drank all his water, and became weak and tired. He only emerged when he was so dizzy he could barely stand, and crawled achingly slow out of the car, staggered down his hallways, and collapsed on the ratty blanket he called his own. No one had come looking for him. No one had reacted to his absence. Even the stupid bling around his throat hadn't reacted. Someone brought him food, now that he was out, but that was the most attention he got.

Why? He wondered to himself. What is going on that they're not paying attention?

It never occurred to Sam that the question was a little self-centrered; his life had dissolved into his own little world and how the Deceptacon's influenced it. Now they weren't affecting it.

After a while, though, it became... normal.

He stopped paying attention to it. There was him, there was food, and there was bling. Life became a complete monotony: wake up, eat, watch the Deceptacons, eat, watch the Deceptacons, eat, go to sleep. He felt like more of a robot than the actual robots. They at least had emotions. Sam felt like he'd lost the reaction to feel, somewhere.

So when Megatron called his name, he didn't know how to react, at first.

"Sam."

He blinked, slowly, lifting his head.

"Sam."

Confused, he looked up, blinking when he realized that the massive robot was looking down at him, amused.

"Yes?" he croaked, surprised at the harshness of his voice. He'd forgotten to use it.

Megatron's hand swooped down to his level, palm flat, fingers at the ground by his feet. "Come."

Crawling onto the other's hand, he held on reflexively when the huge Deceptacon swooped his hand up into the air, carrying Sam as he started walking along.

Where are we going?

A factory. It was the Deceptacon factory that Megatron had shown him, months ago. Deceptacons looked up as they entered, red eyes following their path as Megatron walked calmly through the sparks and the construction, smiling as the humans cowering between the robots looked away, refusing to meet the monstrous robots eyes.

Passing through the main body of the room, Megatron entered a large, mostly empty back room. It was cavernous, high roofed and still, silent except for the whirring of Megatron's joints.

"Sam." he said.

"What?" Sam croaked, wincing again.

Megatron reached over his head, to a shelf, pulling down a small, familiar cube. "Recognize this?"

Sam hissed at the All Spark, brows furrowed. He felt like a cat, back arching up, wanting to claw at the thing. It was a deep, instinctual response, to the object that had destroyed his life, and the life of everyone. Everyone.

Megatron laughed, and the thing sparked, arching from the cube to the robotic body on lying in front of them, a body he hadn't even noticed was there.

Blue eyes flared open, spark crackling in the chest.

"Oh my God," Sam moaned, horror flooding through him.

Megatron laughed, and lowered him down so that he was just above the robot's eyes. Sam reached out, just touching the glass.

"Sam?" the robot said, sounding bewildered.

Sam's shoulders shook as he bit back a sob. "Optimus?"