Chapter Text
"Argh!" Sam screamed in frustration as he threw himself inside his car. "I can't believe that she did that to me!"
The car door shut itself and the seatbelt wrapped around Sam's body as the young man grumbled to himself.
"I told her I didn't want to do it but did she listen to me. Noooooo!" Sam continued to moan as the engine started and the car slipped into gear. "But Sam it's for a good cause. We'll be able to donate a lot of money to the Children's Hospital." Sam pitched his voice higher as he tried to imitate Mikaela's voice.
The car steered itself down the street getting closer and closer to the Witwicky residence.
"I mean I don't have a problem with giving to charity. Hell I don't have a problem with volunteering to help out either," Sam exclaimed, "but I do have a problem with be sold as a slave."
The car came to a jarring stop exactly at a stop sign.
With a sigh Sam ran his hand through his hair. "I wonder if I can buy myself," he mumbled to himself, not noticing that they were sitting at a stop sign for longer than normal. "If I can borrow the money I could give it to Miles and have him bid on me. I mean there is no way I can let myself be sold to Trent and his friends. Or worst yet have no one bid on me."
The car started to move once again.
"I think I have about fifty," Sam said thoughtfully. "I might be able to get dad to loan me another fifty, maybe 75."
The car turned onto the street on which the Witwicky family resided.
Sam ran his hand angrily through his hair once again. "Of course Mikaela can't be put up on the auction block since she's involved in setting the whole thing up and running it." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Damned traitor."
The car pulled into the Witwicky driveway. The car stopped, the engine turned off and the seatbelt unwrapped itself.
Opening the door Sam stepped out of the car. "I really hope dad will loan me the money," Sam said with a sigh as he looked at his home. "I really don't want to face the alternative."
With a pat of the car roof, Sam said. "Wish me luck Bee," before walking toward his home as if he were walking toward his death.
"Bumblebee to Optimus Prime." Bumblebee called out to the Autobot leader over their com system
"Prime here, Bumblebee." The answer came back barely a moment later.
"We have a problem, sir," Bee responded.
"What sort of problem."
"Sam's being sold into slavery," Bee answered.