A/N: Without giving anything away, I will tell you that there are a few more chapters planned to this story, and I am willing to tell you the point of view I'm planning to express in all of them.

Next chapter-Jim

Ch. 5-Bobby

Ch. 6-John

Ch. 7-Sam

These are all subject to change, so please don't hold me to it. Either way, I'm glad you're all enjoying!

Dean

You would think that being sick sucked.

There are some parts of it that do suck. Obviously, the actual being sick part stinks. There're days I feel so bad that I don't remember the entire day. But mostly, being sick becomes a part of you. It's just another part of who you are. It's the same to me as going to school is for other kids. It's just life.

What's worse is what it does to my family.

I remember the day I was diagnosed the first time. I'd been outside playing with Sam, chasing him around the yard, and I tripped and skinned my knee on the concrete walk we still have in front of the house. To me, it was a big deal, but only as big a deal as a skinned knee can be. Mom put a bandage on it and kissed it, and to me, everything was fine.

But a few hours later, when Mom was giving me and Sam a bath, there was a huge bruise on my knee. Mom took me to the doctor the next day and that's when it all started. The years of you have cancer and surgeries and you're in remission and bloodwork and vomiting and infections and pain and tears. The years that we're still in.

I knew early on that what was happening wasn't fair to Sam. I remember once when I was around eight, watching them draw blood from Sam for another transfusion. Sam usually cooperated when my mom was there, but she wasn't there for some reason that time. My dad was trying to keep Sam calm but it wasn't working. Sam was screaming bloody murder and wouldn't cooperate with anyone. I remember telling my dad something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Daddy, Sammy's scared. I don't mind staying sick for a little while. That way he doesn't have to do it."

But of course, Sam did it, and after that, things just kind of fell into place. I'd get sick and Sam would have to do something to make me better, I'd be better for a while, then it would happen over again. In the times between me being sick, things were fairly normal. Sam and I would either fight like mortal enemies or be the best of friends, Mom would get to be a housewife and mom, Dad would get to be a dad and cop. But the good times got shorter and shorter, and the bad times lasted longer and longer, until the last couple of years when everything seemed to be all bad.

I know that Mom and Dad fought about money. The hospital that took care of me was a children's research hospital, so most of my medical bills were forgiven, but things were still pretty tight. Mom tried hard to make me and Sam not worry, so I never said anything. Sam caught them arguing once, and Mom told him something about Mommy and Daddy just not getting along that day. Their arguments stopped eventually, or they just moved somewhere more private.

Then Mom died, and everything went to crap.

Dad never really grieved Mom. He went through all the motions, he cried for her at the graveside, but the next day, things were right back where they were before. Dad retired early from the police department, and he took over taking care of me.

Maybe I should say that things got back to the way they were for me and Dad.

A month after Mom died, I had another bone marrow transplant. I pulled through fine, but now that I think about it, I don't think I ever asked about Sam. I didn't even see him until the next day, and I know for a fact that Dad never left me. It eats me up now, knowing that no one checked on him. But I thought that Sam was past all that.

Lately though, Sam seems like a different person. He's snotty, he's always mean, and he wants to make everything out to be my fault. I thought that was just part of being twelve, but about a week ago Dad got a letter from a lawyer. It said that my uncle Jim, who has been one of my dad's closest friends for a long time, was trying to take Sam away from my dad.

But that wasn't all. Dad and uncle Jim got into it. Really into it. And as it turns out, Jim didn't just file those papers out of the blue. Apparently Sam has been feeling this way for a while, and he and Jim had a plan to do this if the decision came down to organ donation.

Let me say that again. Sam and uncle Jim have been talking about this for a while now. Meaning that, while Dad and I thought things were good, they really weren't.

Sam came home and things got even worse. Dad asked him if what Jim said was true, and Sam admitted to all of it. He said that he felt like we were using him, and he said that since Dad was in control of all my medical decisions, he wanted Jim to be in charge of his.

While I thing that what Sam did was really backhanded and ugly to Dad, I get it. Dad is very one sided when it comes to me. He only sees what he wants to see-me healthy, no matter what the price is to anyone else.

Sam hasn't lived here in a week. After trying calmly-well, as calmly as Dad can manage for himself-to talk Sam out of doing this, he tried to order Sam to ask Jim to back off, and when Sam wouldn't do it, Dad sent him packing. He gave Sam one hour to have "all your shit packed and out of this house". He told Sam that he'd see them in court and not to come back a minute earlier than that. Sam tried to apologize to me, but I was still so incensed that night I wouldn't hear it.

Now I wish I had.

Dad tried to make me stay home from the hearing, telling me that I needed all my rest "before the big day." I hated it when Dad talked like that before I had a procedure. I wasn't a baby anymore. I didn't need a pep talk. Of course, with how hard Dad was trying to cheer me up and make me not worry, I never told him that. But I wouldn't do it. I hadn't seen Sam in a week, and I just wanted to lay eyes on my brother.

When we walked in the courthouse, though, Sam wasn't there. It was just Jim and whatever lawyer he had hired for this. Another friend of my dad's, Bobby, was there too. My dad seemed mad enough to take a swing at all of them, but I was impressed when he simply went to the opposite side of the courtroom and waited on the case to be called. The judge called everyone to the front and I could tell my dad was floundering.

"Alright, this is the case of James Murphy vs. John Winchester. It is a custody suit. The plaintiff, Mr. Murphy, is seeking custody of the minor child Samuel Winchester, son of the defendant, John Winchester. Is this an accurate summation of the case?"

"It is, your honor." Jim's lawyer, who looked like he owned a law school himself, answered.

"Your honor, this is crap…" Dad started to say.

The judge held up a hand, but not in a condescending way. "Mr. Winchester, while this hearing will be relatively informal, you will still be expected to follow by my court rules. The most important of which is to speak when and only when spoken to. I promise, sir, you will have an opportunity to tell your side of whatever story there is to this."

Dad nodded. "Apologies."

"Accepted." The judge smiled and looked down at some papers he had in front of him. "Mr. Winnows, you have a motion to present?"

"I do, your honor. My client is expected to provide a live liver donation to his brother in just over a week. We're seeking a temporary restraining order for that procedure, pending the outcome of this case."

"I see. And he is expected to donate this liver to…" the judge looked down and checked over his paperwork again, "his older brother, Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, your honor."

"And I'm assuming you have an affidavit from a doctor directly relating to Dean Winchester's care that putting off this surgery will not needlessly endanger this child's life?"

"We do."

"Mr. Winchester, I see you shaking your head over there." The judge, who I remember now was named Harvey Lineman, at least according to the name plaque in front of him, looked over to Dad as Jim's lawyer handed a paper to the bailiff. "As soon as I look over the affidavit you'll be able to offer me a rebuttal. All right?" The judge read the paper and nodded. "Okay. Your turn, Mr. Winchester. Why should I not grant this motion?"

"Because my son will die without this surgery, your honor."

"Mr. Winchester, that affidavit I just read says that your son can survive another ten to fourteen days without the surgery before it would be too late to do any good. Why should I take your word over that of a pediatric oncologist? Especially one who wrote in that affidavit that he's been Dean's primary care doctor for well over a decade now?"

Now it was my turn to be incensed. Dr. Farraday was involved in this?

Dad started to flounder. "Your honor…"

"Let me stop you right there, Mr. Winchester." Judge Lineman folded his hands in front of him and looked around. "Do you have a lawyer?"

"I can't afford one, your honor."

"I'm gonna keep this simple. I can't not hear this case. If I don't, except under some very specific and emergency circumstances which do not exist right now, and something happens to your son Sam, I could be at fault for that. Do you understand?"

Dad nodded.

"So while I understand that you want to save Dean, we have to take these next few days to decide what's in Sam's best interests. If something happens and Dean's health declines significantly, I will take that fully into account, I promise. Now, as for you not having a lawyer? You need one for a case like this. This isn't a traffic ticket or something minor. The second you leave here, walk down the hall to legal aid and they will set you up with family court attorney. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Now here's the deal. We have ten days to get this solved. Today is Friday. That means by a week from Monday, I want to be issuing a ruling. So we will all come back here on Monday to talk about this. Are we clear?"

I was surprised when Dad agreed, but glad he did without a fight. We would have enough of one on our hands.

"Your honor? My client has brought Sam with him. Sam wishes to have a discussion with his father in private, perhaps settle this out of court."

The judge seemed surprised. "Where has Sam been staying?"

"There was an altercation the night that Mr. Winchester was served the custody suit. He told my client he wanted him to take Sam until the case was over."

"I see. Is that true, Mr. Winchester?"

Hell, no, it wasn't true. I wanted to shout that from the roof of the courthouse, but I figured it wouldn't do much good at this point.

"Yes, your honor." Dad answered.

"And how involved was this altercation?"

"Mr. Winchester assaulted my client physically and he slapped his son across the mouth."

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped up and screamed, "Sam started that fight!"

"I take it you're the older brother at the center of this case?" Judge Lineman asked. When I nodded, he said, "Sit down. You'll have your chance too. Mr. Winchester, I'm going to allow this meeting, but it will be in my chambers with my bailiff and all other parties present, including Mr. Murphy's lawyer. You so much as cause your son to have a hangnail and you will go to jail tonight. Am I clear?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Okay. Let's all be back in three days if we can't settle this tonight. We're dismissed."

When the gavel came down, the bailiff told all of us to wait in our seats for a moment before he escorted us to the judge's chambers. My dad was beyond pissed, and at this point, so was I. Yeah, the fight between Dad and Sam had been bad, but Sam had been just as responsible for it as Dad. Now Sam was using it to try and make Dad look bad? Fine. He wanted to fight dirty, we'd fight dirty.

Game on, bitch.

The bailiff led us back, and Sam was already at the judge's chambers when we got there. I swear it looked to me like he was smirking.

"Hi, Dad. Hi, Dean."