A/N- This is an AU fic about what if Ryan was Sandy and Kirsten's biological son, and Seth was an Atwood? What if Sandy brought Seth home to his family; how would life be different?

A/N 2- This was written by me and my cousin Ally (who has a chapter dedicated to her in one of my other stories(Hello, Sunshine)). It's her first fanfic and she's really excited about it :).

A/N 3- Please R&R and let us know if it's worth continuing...

The Way We Get By

Prologue

Sandy Cohen flipped through the files on his desk at the D.A.'s office- drug arrests, gang fights, a whole bunch of priors. He sighed as he threw his head back on his chair; he only had one more case left for the day. Glancing at his picture of his son and wife perched askew on his desk, he stood up and went to meet the kid who was under arrest for car theft.

"Seth Atwood?" He asked as he approached the boy slouching at the table, staring pointedly at his fingernails. When he got no response from the boy, he continued, "I'm Sandy Cohen. I've been assigned to your case," Still no response. He paused and continued, "So, I've been looking over your records. You've got good grades, when you're at school, good standardized test scores- what happened?" The kid seemed to notice Sandy for the first time and he met his eyes.

"My brother came and convinced me to help him steal a car. We got busted. That's all." Sandy nodded and couldn't help but notice the look in the boy's eyes; he seemed like he must be a funny kid ordinarily, despite what the world had dealt him, but at the moment he just wanted to get out of there and go somewhere where he would be safe and loved. Sandy had a feeling that he hadn't had a place like that to go in some time- maybe since he was a kid. His heart ached as he thought of his own son, Ryan, who he knew must be at home right now playing his Playstation without a care in the world. How could two kids the same age be so different?

"Well, Seth, we got you out on parole, but you're on probation now." He looked up at the kid, expecting to see a look of relief; what he got was a look of fear and worry.

"What about Trey?"

"Trey is over 18, Trey stole a car, Trey had a gun in his pants and an ounce of pot in his jacket and a couple of priors. I'm guessing that right now Trey is looking at 3 to 5 years. But Trey's not my concern. You are. And for now, you're out with probation. Come with me." He led the boy outside and, for the first time, got a good glimpse of who he had been talking to.

The boy was about six foot one, with messy, curly brown hair, with a slender build and some slight muscles that Sandy assumed were built while fending for his life on the street. He couldn't help but remember that feeling from when he was a kid growing up in New York. His thought train was interrupted by the screech of tires and a disheveled blonde woman screaming.

"Seth, get your ass in the car, you little bitch! I'd expect this from your brother, but you? You've fucked up, Seth, and I don't know what I'm going to do with you! But I can promise you it won't be fun!" Sandy, wide-eyed, looked at the boy, who was again studying his fingernails.

"Listen," he breathed, turning to face the kid, "here's my card. It has my house and cell numbers in case you need anything. Don't hesitate to give me a call." Seth looked at the man questioningly; he had never known any adult to be so understanding before. He gave Sandy a half-smile, accepted the card, and got into the car.

Back at his tiny house, his mom's new boyfriend had found out about the arrest, and had found it to be a great excuse to hit the teenager.

"You think we're going to bail you out every time you fuck up? There's no way!" He leaned in to hit Seth and Seth recoiled; he had learned long ago not to hit back when his mom's fling-of-the-week was pissed, and this time it was extraordinarily bad. Seth glanced at his mother, hoping that she would come and protect him, like she did when he was a little boy and was afraid in the middle of the night. Lamely, she only stood there and watched on, occasionally sipping at her cheap tequila; he felt a surge of rage overcome him. He went to hit back, but before he could do anything, he vaguely heard AJ snap, "Get out! Go find someone else to piss off and mooch off of!" Seth's eyes glazed over and he quickly recovered, standing up and looking over to his mother again, hoping only she would come to his defense.

"Mom?" She merely nodded her head towards the door and returned to the kitchen to get another tequila. His fury blinded him and he couldn't help but scream, "FINE!" like a petulant three-year-old. He stormed into his "room", actually a makeshift corner of his tiny house with two beds, one for him and one for Trey, and threw all of his white t-shirts, his one hoodie, and a few pairs of jeans into a duffel bag and began to storm out of the house, realizing that he had forgotten his closest friend. He turned around and grabbed a plastic pony, Captain Oats, from his bed.

Seth couldn't help but fume as he remembered how he got the pony. It had been his eighth birthday, when he still lived in Fresno, before his father had gotten arrested. His dad had given it to him as a birthday gift, and told him to remember that, whenever he was scared or alone, he could hold onto it and know that his parents loved him. The next week his father had gotten arrested for armed robbery. He hadn't seen him since. Captain Oats was all he had left, and he couldn't forgive his father for that.

Slamming the door behind him, he grabbed his skateboard (that he had gotten a few years back as a Christmas/Birthday present (his mother had been too poor to get him separate gifts for each, so she got him one gift for the two occasions)). He rode down to the shopping center downtown and pulled the card, whose corners had already frayed, out of his pocket, quickly dialing the cell number provided.

"Hello?... Yeah, hi, it's Seth Atwood..." A half-hour later, Sandy pulled up in a black Mercedes; Seth was visibly impressed, "I didn't know your kind of lawyer made any money." Sandy smiled; his instincts about this kid had been right,

"We don't. My wife does." He motioned for Seth to get in the car and they started the long ride back to Newport to meet Kirsten, Ryan, and the rest of their dysfunctional OC family. Seth was in for a long ride.