Author's Note: Hi everyone! So I decided to write this because the Stynes in season 10 really caught my imagination, but the episodes themselves let me down—I hoped to see WAY more interaction between the two families than we actually did. They're so different, but in many ways, they're very similar, and I'd like to convey that in this fic. It is AU, but I'm trying to stay as faithful to the characters as I can. Expect to see plenty of familiar faces!

Now, about dates and ages… I'm doing a lot of guess work here. The show wasn't all that specific… And since I'm a sucker for good parallelism, I decided to make Jacob and Eldon four years apart, just like Dean and Sam—but also more experienced, so Eldon will be Dean's age, and Jacob will be four years older. Hope no one minds!

Please bear with me for the first two chapters. They're mostly exposition. The good stuff starts in chapter 3. Please read and let me know what you think! I love receiving feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. This is purely for fan enjoyment.

Special thanks to Lauren and Allyson for all your help. Love working with you girls!

SPN

(Shreveport, Louisiana … 1990)

Sitting on the hard wood of her family's wrap-around porch, Elizabeth Styne barely noticed the sunset. Her fresh blue eyes were fixed on the three marble-sized crystals in front of her, and at six-years-old, she had little patience for blood-red skies. What a waste of time.

The crystals now… They were exquisite. Clear, rose, and obsidian… Flawless. Eli claimed they were mother's… but Elizabeth knew the truth. They were far, far older than he could imagine… and she didn't care what anyone said. She was not too little to scry with them.

"Thomas…" Her tender voice shook with longing as the trance swept over her. Using the crystals to hone her strength, she sought the only solace available to doll-faced children such as herself… Dreams and visions…

But nothing could have prepared her for the nightmare in store. It knocked her back with intense clarity, making her ears ring. Her stomach churned and if she were not a Styne, she would have sobbed from the sudden anguish piercing her heart. Instead, she let out a violent shriek that brought her cousins running.

Eldon first. Then Jacob. They were five and nine years older than she was, both big and strong and loyal. Promising. They might treat her like a fragile kitten, but they meant well, and she had need of them.

"What's wrong, Lilibet?" Jacob asked as Elizabeth threw her arms around Eldon's neck. His hand brushed softly through her blonde ringlets.

"They're after him!" She met Jacob's gaze. Just because he wasn't yet sixteen didn't mean he couldn't drive his daddy's car. "You have to help him!"

"Help who, sweetheart?"

Elizabeth froze, scowling as the family patriarch Monroe Styne swaggered around the corner, all cocky and patronizing. Like good little boys, Jacob and Eldon both snapped to attention, but she just sat there and caught her breath. Of course he heard her shriek… But to come investigate himself? Where did he get the nerve?

"Don't make me ask twice," Monroe cautioned with his thick, southern drawl. "You've been playing with your mama's crystals again. You should know better by now." He reached down and snatched them from the floor, his expression torn between affection and discipline. "So what did you see?"

Hesitating, Elizabeth closed her eyes. "Thomas. I saw someone mutilate him."

Silence… She could picture Eldon and Jacob glancing at each other, no doubt baffled by the name, while Monroe crossed his arms. He didn't frighten her, but given her youth, he had the advantage, and nothing frustrated her more.

"Thomas…" He eventually murmured. "Oh… That Yankee boy we caught you playing with…" Elizabeth bristled. "I can't say I'm sorry, sweetheart. You know he's beneath you. A vulgar wannabe who's in way too deep. He deserves what he gets."

Blood was rushing to her head, making her dizzy. "If we don't help him," she said, cold and contentious. "You will never again know peace. I swear."

The slap came forcefully, casting her against the white porch railing. Her eyes finally stung with tears and she desperately sought out Jacob's face. But no… Not even he would risk his daddy's wrath to defend her. The coward.

"I won't tolerate your insolence," Monroe said, perfectly calm, drawing her gaze back to him. "You are a daughter in the upper echelons of a great and noble family, and you will start acting like one. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," she whispered mechanically, leaning back against the white posts, staring sullenly at the floorboard. A coiled strand of hair slipped over her face as she fancied lashing out at Monroe like a snake, fangs bared. Such retaliation would no doubt mean disaster, but at this point, what did she have to lose?

One day…

One day soon…

SPN

(Lily Dale, New York … Tuesday, September 21, 2004)

Fourteen years later, Elizabeth Styne found herself practically alone in the world, wretched, miserable and hungry for retribution—the sins of her uncle were not easily forgiven. Such malice, however, did not promote the friendly and docile image she sought to adopt, and so she made every effort to conceal it with a gentle countenance—after all, beauty and charm both served her well.

Having just changed out of her Gypsy costume, she wore a simple white camisole beneath a pink blazer with bedazzled jeans. Fairly casual given her elaborate hairdo—fit for prom—but she didn't have the patience for a complete makeover. It was nearing midnight, and after such a tedious day, she deserved a beer. So, as usual, she hastened over to Ralph's, the least likely place to find tourists, and settled in at the bar.

Fortunately, the crowd was light, even by Ralph's standards. A few local boys were at the billiard table, and some truckers were eating ribs in the corner booth. Dressed as she was, Elizabeth knew she had their attention, but so what? Flirting kept her sharp, and if any of them tried anything too wanton, she could think of multiple ways to object.

On the other hand, when a dark and handsome stranger appeared ten minutes later, two seats down, Elizabeth couldn't help but check him out. He must have been around Eldon's age, with a face that more than made up for the worn-out clothes under his military field jacket. Like Jacob, he carried himself with unflinching resolve, strength and vigilance, and despite her reservations, Elizabeth approved.

"Evening," he said to mostly to Ralph, but also with a sidelong smile in her direction. Incredibly, it lacked any trace of solicitation. "I'll have what she's having." Polite. Nothing more. How… odd…

"Long day?" she asked, hoping to make conversation as Ralph wordlessly poured him a beer. However, he seemed reluctant to respond, his hazel-green eyes shifting uncertainly from her decked-out hair down to the outrageous ring on her hand—the one piece of her costume she never removed. It displayed her most precious rose quartz crystal, and it seemed to trigger all sorts of alarm bells in the stranger's mind.

"You know," he said after a pause. "Normally, a girl like you would drive me wild. But, uh… I only came to Lily Dale to meet up with my dad. Haven't seen him in weeks, and we've got some catching up to do. He should be here any minute. Besides, I'm not exactly 'into' all that psychic spoon-bending crap… Sorry."

Was he actually jilting her? Elizabeth leaned her elbow on the bar and squinted at him. "Well, that doesn't sound like skepticism… That sounds like indignation." She caught sight of the small, ugly amulet around his neck and, trusting her instincts, made a quick guess. "You're a believer. You've seen things. That's the only reason you can't stand obnoxious charlatans."

He smirked, mildly amused and evidently warming up to her, despite himself. "That's pretty good…" Taking a sip from his glass, he studied her thoughtfully. Then, "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester. What's your name?"

She offered her sweetest smile. "Elizabeth Lavenza." No sense in sharing her actual identity. "Now then… Why don't we take a look? On the house?" Sliding closer to him, she beckoned for his hand. "You can't just insult a girl's trade and not let her vindicate herself." Normally, the thought of 'one more reading' after a busy, mind-numbing day would leave her aggravated, but something about Dean made her curious.

"Yeah, what the hell?" He gave in, yielding his palm with a challenge on his face, as if daring her to play him. Silly boy.

She glanced down, observing not only his lines, but also his fingerprints—every last detail—the color of his skin, the movement of his bones, the shape of a wayward scar… He wasn't wrong about most of the fortune-tellers in this town. Frauds… But she had more knowledge and practical experience than the lot of them combined, and divination was her specialty.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" She felt the familiar rush of an imminent trance and welcomed it openly. "Your life has been marked by tragedy and violence since your early childhood… shaping you into the warrior you are today… cunning… and capable… You love your family more than life itself, but fate has torn you between your father's approval and your bond with your brother… You desire reconciliation, but deep down, you fear nothing can span the rift dividing them… and it torments you."

Dean yanked his hand free, snapping her from the trance, and they stared at each other, pale and breathless. He looked sick, and she was equally shocked—caught off guard by the sudden and profound revelation that crept its way to the surface. "You're a legacy."

"A what?" He failed to keep the wariness out of his voice.

"A legacy," she said again. "Offspring of an ancient, noble lineage…" The Men of Letters, to be precise… Elizabeth's heart quickened at the implications. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

Clearly not. He was at a loss for words.

"Dean." A weathered old man in a leather jacket chose that moment to interrupt, appearing behind them with impressive stealth. Dean's father, no doubt, and also a legacy—that, or the Men of Letters were really slumming it these days. They were getting harder to track down…

"Dad…" With a manly hug, the two momentarily forgot Elizabeth, who shied away from the elder in mounting dread. Why did she recognize him? Those broad shoulders… That robust face… Two haunted eyes… She had seen him before… But where?

Thomas!

She was staring at the hunter responsible for her soulmate's suffering. No question about it. Dean's father… She would never forget the savagery her crystals unveiled all those years ago. What were the odds? A hunter… and a legacy…

Conscious of the threat he posed, Elizabeth made the desperate decision to retreat, and thanks to her family's own skill-sets, she managed to slip from her enemy's field of perception with minimal effort. Blending into the shadows, she withdrew from the bar, fled outside, and wrenched a phone from her pocket. Shakily, she dialed Eli's number.

Several rings later, he answered with a growl. "Who is this!? You have any idea what time it is!?"

"Shut up, Eli," she snapped, too frantic for pleasantries. "I need to speak with Uncle Monroe. Now!"

"Lilibet?" Concern replaced displeasure as her old nickname rolled off his tongue. She was a runaway, and they both knew Monroe couldn't abide runaways. Her homecoming was a top priority. "Are you certain?"

"I've never been more certain in my life," she promised him. "It's time to call a truce."

SPN

Next Chapter: What's in store for the Winchesters? Please review!