Here's another chapter. I really am enjoying writing this plot. It is fun, though mean. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I am writing it.

Sam had quickly grown to loathe the newcomers. At first he hadn't minded too much that Optimus and his team were distracted by them; they were the first other Autobots they'd seen in over a five hundred Earth years. But after two weeks, it was really annoying. Even Bumblebee paid little to no attention to him. He knew it would sound selfish so he said nothing about it, but the hollow feeling he had felt from before the Autobots arrival was coming back.

He sat at a distance and watched as the Autobots worked at expanding the base for the new arrivals. He had done the same thing every day since the project began a week ago. He sighed and leaned back against a tree, looking at the sky. A soft whispering sound, like the wind, caressed his ear and he sat up straight, looking around for the source.

Sam growled and whispered back. "Who are you?"

"A friend," the barest of whispers said. wiki/Wendigo

"What are you?"

A soft, almost nonexistent laugh answered him.

"Leave me alone!" he snapped.

"Pardon me, little one," a surprised voice said shyly. "I didn't mean to intrude on your thoughts."

"Oh," Sam muttered. "First Aid. What do you want?"

"I-I just noticed that you looked lonely," he said quietly, sitting down beside him. "I know what it's like, so I came to keep you company for a while."

Some of the hollow feeling disappeared and Sam smiled. "Thanks. It is a little lonesome with you all working so hard."

"We're almost done. We should finish by tomorrow if we work through the night."

"That's good. I miss my guardian. He usually stays by my side all the time. It's hard to be away from him for an extended period of time."

First Aid tilted his head to the side. "Bumblebee really wants to come over and sit with you, but Prowl won't let him. He doesn't want any of us to stop working."

"Why doesn't Optimus stop him?" Sam asked.

"Well, he's as eager to get this done as Prowl is. Optimus Prime can really push when he wants to. In this instance, Prowl is pushing for him."

"Well I think that's-" Sam started.

"First Aid, what do you think you're doing?"

First Aid gasped and leaped up, looking frightened. "Prowl! I was just talking to Sam.

"Why?"

"Well, he looked a little lonely," First Aid said sheepishly.

"We need to get this done, not cater to a single human," Prowl said disdainfully.

First Aid frowned. "But you know what Optimus Prime said about him. He could still be unstable."\

"My words still stand. Now get over here!"

First Aid looked back at Sam, looking sorry, but he obeyed his superior and hurried over to work. The mechs watching the scene just looked away when it was over. Even Bumblebee didn't look back at him. Sam felt the hollow, numb feeling return and he stood and walked back to his clearing.

He sat down and stared at the ground, feeling nothing. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever feel anything again. His guardian had turned away from him. Out of all of the first five mechs he knew, it was Bumblebee that he didn't want to lose. He noticed a sharp looking rock and he reached out to grab it. Without thinking, he pulled back his sleeves to reveal his pale, scarred wrists. He stared for a while then placed the sharp end on his left wrist and jerked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bumblebee was irritated. He wanted more than anything to go and speak to his human boy, but every time he tried, Prowl stopped him. He focused on the work as much as he could, knowing the sooner they finished, the sooner he could hold Sam again. An angry shout from Prowl made him look up and he watched the ensuing scene with First Aid. His optics were drawn down to his boy, who looked angry. Suddenly his face went blank and Bumblebee felt alarm rush through him. Just as he was about to head over, Prowl turned and looked directly at him, threats in his optics. The threats were almost not enough to keep him still. Almost. He turned away and focused back on his work. When he looked back again, Sam was gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam carefully watched the blood as it washed from his skin. The torn edges of said skin were red with threatening infection, but he didn't care. He was still too numb to care. There was a ripple on the earth beneath him and he heard something rumble behind him. He turned to see a mech made of earth standing there, staring at him with red optics.

"You were made of water in the last dream," Sam said absently.

A soft laugh, dark and reminding the boy of pain-filled days, came from the mech's mouth. "Whoever said this was a dream?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's a dream. Things like this don't happen in real life."

"Very well then," the mech replied. "Let the dream continue."

"Whatever you say, buddy."

"You do not like Prowl," the earthen mech said.

"He's cruel and cold and doesn't let anybody do anything unless he approves of it. No, I don't like him," Sam spat, his fists clenching; the clenched muscles made the fresh cuts throb on his wrists.

"Hmm, he reminds you of your father. Especially those dark nights when he would come in your room and beat you because he didn't have another outlet. And you were always afraid that he would do worse to you."

Sam felt sick with remembered fear. "You're not like the water mech, are you?"

"We are acquainted," the mech replied, a strange tone in his voice. "But let us focus on you."

The boy suddenly felt uneasy. "I'd rather not."

"But I'd rather so."

"No," Sam muttered.

"Bumblebee turned away from you," the mech said.

Sam felt anger bloom in his chest. "Yes," he growled, tears in his eyes.

"But he's your best friend. Why would he do that?"

"I-I don't know," he said, looking into the pool of water.

"Maybe he's grown tired of you? You are only a human, after all. You're squishy and different from anything he'd ever seen."

Sam whimpered and covered his eyes. "Go away. Please go away."

"You know it's true, little one," a soft whisper said in his ear before everything went silent again.

Sam let out a soft sob and others followed. He was miserable. And there was nobody to comfort him. They were all too busy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam walked into the finished base early the next morning. He had his sleeves pulled down to hide the cuts he'd made the night before and the fresher ones from this morning. His stomach swooped as he was picked up abruptly and nuzzled.

"There you are, Sam," Bumblebee said brightly. "I was beginning to worry about you."

"I'm fine, Bee," Sam said, noticing they way he said it; he sounded like before they had figured out he could lie.

Bumblebee was immediately worried. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Sam snapped angrily. "Now put me down and go spend time with your new damn friends."

"Oh, Sam," Bumblebee crooned. "You're my friend still."

"Could've fooled me," he growled. "Put me down."

"No," the yellow mech refused. "I shall hold you as long as I like."

Sam stood and jumped, landing on the ground with a grunt before trudging angrily away from his guardian. Bumblebee made a surprised squealing noise and Sam could again feel optics on him. He hated it. What did they care?

A rougher hand picked him up and he found himself optic-level with Ironhide, who didn't look happy.

"What's gotten into you, boy?"

"What's gotten into me?" Sam asked incredulously. "Boy, you all really are dense."

Prowl chose that moment to cut in. "You are angry because we do not lavish attention on you."

It wasn't a question so Sam didn't grace it with an answer, but instead turned and glared at Prowl, his wrists throbbing with the pain he couldn't release any other way. Prowl met his gaze with an arrogant, know-it-all one of his own.

"I'm right," Prowl said smugly. "Aren't I?"

"Damn you," Sam snapped.

"You're spoiled," Prowl said purposefully. "You need to get used to less attention. You're not a child anymore."

Sam felt pain and anger drip into that place inside of him with each word. He watched Prowl with blank eyes as his heart was torn out.

"Prowl, stop it," Optimus suddenly commanded.

"It's the truth, Optimus Prime, and he needs to hear it."

"Remember what we discussed about him," Optimus said, his optics glued on Sam, worry blooming in his spark.

"Sir, I believe you're overdoing it. Spoiling him. He's only human," Prowl said.

"So all this because I'm not worthy to have anybody's attention?" Sam asked with a disturbing smile. "All because I'm human. Because I'm not made of metal."

"Yes," Prowl said sternly. "You're not even going to live long enough to make an impact in our lives."

There was an explosion of noise as Bumblebee, Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Jazz began talking all at once. Sam once again jumped down and headed back out the door. He walked back to the clearing and sighed, sitting back down and feeling lonelier than ever. Without thinking, he again picked up the rock and moved it to his bared forearm.

"What are you doing?"

Sam looked up to see the water mech staring at him with soft blue optics.

"Cutting myself," Sam replied as he dragged the rock across his skin.

The water mech walked forward and placed a hand against the welling blood, washing it away. Sam looked at him as the pain, which had been sharp and sweet moments before, disappeared under the gentle hand.

"Why do you not just talk to them?"

"They wouldn't understand," Sam said bitterly, tears blurring his vision.

"What makes you think that little one?"

"They're not worthless humans," Sam whispered. "They don't want to hear about my problems. I'll die and they'll just forget about me anyways."

"Do you really think that?" the mech asked kindly. "Do you really think Bumblebee would be able to forget you so easily?"

"I…Maybe not Bee, but the others, yes," Sam muttered.

"Optimus?"

"Okay, not him either…or Ironhide, or Ratchet, or Jazz, but the others would forget me."

"They barely know you right now," the mech crooned. "Spend some time with them, and they'll start to like your uniqueness just as the others have."

"Do you really think so?" Sam asked, reaching up with the hand that held the rock and wiping the tears on his cheeks away with the back of his hand.

"You're a very special boy. I'm sure that if you try hard enough, you'll find they'll start liking you for who you are. Not for what you'll become, not for what you've been, but who you are now."

Sam looked at him, startled. What a strange thing for a mech to say, he thought. It was like this mech knew the past and the, dare he say, future."

"What do you mean by…that," Sam said and looked around for the mech, who had suddenly disappeared.

He looked down and considered the mech's kind words. He seemed so sure that the others would accept him for who he was, even Prowl and Sunstreaker. As he considered the new mechs, he realized that First Aid was already taking to him. A small smile curled his lips. Maybe if he did talk to them…

But it wouldn't work. They thought he was a worthless human…

But they were his friends…

But they were alien robots from another planet, a metal planet…

Sam whimpered as the two conflicting sides of the argument filled his head. He dropped the rock, the fresh cut on his other arm throbbing, and covered his ears, tears sliding down his cheeks. He was so confused.