A/N: Welcome to the first installment of the epic journey that I have titled A London of Myths and a Timelord of Magic. This tale interconnects characters from Supernatural, Sherlock, Doctor Who, Merlin, and Harry Potter, with references to other fandoms sprinkled throughout. It also stars two OCs of my own invention: a pair of sisters named Alina and Tracy. My younger sister and I have been brainstorming and writing this story together for about a year now, and it's nowhere near finished yet, but I think that posting it here will help us to organize our thoughts and take each chapter as it comes instead of being overwhelmed by the thought of finishing the whole thing. Once she creates a fanfiction account, I'll give her username a shoutout!

There are a lot of characters involved, so for scenes that involve all or most of them, I know it might get a little tedious; but bear with us. They often split off into smaller groups, which allows for great scene changes and wibbly-wobbly stuff.

For the most part, we've tried to stay as close to canon as possible, which is hard when you're crossing over this many fandoms. Of course there are things and events that don't perfectly align with all of the different timelines and stuff; but that's the beauty of fanfiction- individual interpretation.

I'm going to try to post an update every month. I can't make any promises; but we do have quite a few chapters lined up already. We'll see how it goes!

I hope you enjoy following along with Alina and Tracy's adventure. Rate and review and let us know what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except Alina and Tracy.

-A

Morgana Pendragon surveyed the scene before her with approval. She watched as another batch of recruits stepped out of the portal that had summoned them from the far-off future. They were disoriented at first, but soon adjusted to their surroundings and knelt to their mistress.

"Are you ready to serve?" she asked with an air of superiority, though she already knew what their answer would be. After all, these members of the once and future Cult of Le Fay would not have traveled across space and time, with no guarantee of surviving the journey, unless they were completely devoted to her cause.

"Yes, my lady," the girl at their forefront said. "I am honored to be in your presence and service… Some of your other, less faithful followers thought I was crazy, but they were not as devout as I and my companions. We believed that the lady Morgana would someday call on us, as it is written in the ancient tomes, and we answered that call."

"Indeed you did. And you shall be rewarded for it, once your tasks are complete." Morgana sent them to entreat with her sister, and moved on to another matter. She withdrew to her chambers and brought forth a vision of Arthur in her glass. He was on patrol in the woods of Camelot, accompanied by that foolish manservant of his, as well as two knights of Camelot—the lumbering oaf and the handsome, quick-tongued one.

"At last… You will no longer be able to stop me, Arthur Pendragon," she murmured, lips curling into a twisted smirk. "I will send you to a place where you will not last a day. A place from which you can never return: Hell itself." Morgana closed her eyes and began to chant, the very air around her swirling and whirling forcefully. When she opened her eyes, the vision held nothing but the four men's horses, stamping their feet and whickering.

Morgana chuckled darkly. "Goodbye, dear brother."

"Whoo, baby! Vegas!" Dean hooted as the Impala passed the famous "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada" sign. Sam raised his eyebrows, not quite as excited as his brother to see the endless skyline of flashing lights and flashy casinos.

"We are gonna clean up, man," Dean said cheerily. "It's been too long since I played a good craps table. I'm feelin' lucky, Sammy."

"Whatever you say, Dean. I think I'm just going to turn in early tonight," Sam admitted. "My head's been bothering me."

Dean gave him a disapproving look, but didn't ask any questions. They checked into a cheap motel, and Dean left to hit the nearest casinos. Sam closed the door to their room, which seemed to be sanitary enough, and sat down on one of the beds, pulling out his laptop.

Dean had insisted they make Vegas their next stop, and Sam had readily agreed, even though it wasn't number one on his list of places to go. In fact, he pretty much detested everything about the city; but he had gotten a strange feeling that they needed to be here. And when he got strange feelings, he knew it was better to listen to them than to ignore them.

Sam typed some things into the search engine and hit enter, scanning the results with a practiced eye. After skipping over a few nonsensical entries, he hit a blog entry that read, "A Disappearing Act: Scores of Arthurian Cult Followers Go Missing". The page had links to related news reports, so he opened those in new tabs and started reading.

Dean woke up with a pounding headache; likely induced by the previous night's over-indulgence of cheap alcohol. He'd made bank, though, so the hangover was worth it.

Sam set down a glass of water, some aspirin, and a bag of fast food on the night-table beside Dean's bed. "Eat up. We have some work to do."

"Work?" Dean squinted against the sunshine that was starting to stream in through the shoddy blinds on the window. "What time is it? I came to Vegas to have fun, not go hunting."

"It's 7:30. And you should know better than anyone that our work is never done."

Dean scarfed down the burgers and took the pills, and soon enough they were off. He'd consented to letting Sam drive; only because the sun was really bright today, and he didn't feel like driving, nor did he know where they were going.

"Where are we headin', anyway? You still haven't told me anything."

"I found a blog that described the strange mass disappearances of hundreds of cult members. They all worship the same entity—Morgan Le Fay."

"You mean, from King Arthur?" Dean asked, wincing as they went over a speed bump.

"Exactly. These people are disappearing without a trace, hundreds at a time—could be demon activity. Or even angelic."

"Sheesh. How many people could possibly be followers of one ugly witch who was ganked a long time ago?" Dean asked, massaging his temples.

"You'd be surprised," Sam said solemnly. "Morgan Le Fay is a prominent historical figure. Apparently, these disappearances started a few weeks ago in London, spread through Europe, and moved on to the Americas. Authorities are baffled, but no one's been investigating too much because this is such a strange, unpredictable group. One reporter said they might be doing some sort of pilgrimage, but I don't think so. If that were the case, there would be some kind of evidence of that many people traveling around the world at the same time, like plane rosters or bus ticket records; and they would eventually turn up somewhere—presumably in England. These people just up and vanished."

"And you got all this from a blog."

"Yep. It was a good read, actually," Sam admitted. "It's written by these two sisters from here in Vegas who call themselves "consulting-detectives-in-training". They've solved several local mysteries and minor crimes over the last year or so, but they're not affiliated with the authorities in any way. That's why I want to talk to them first."

"Wait… Two sisters?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"And they write a blog?"

"Yep."

"Are their names Alina and Tracy?"

Sam glanced over at him. "Yeah, they are. How did you know?"

Dean was silent for a moment before answering. "Okay, so maybe I read their blog occasionally."

"Huh." Sam couldn't help snickering. "Is it because they're hot? Their profile picture is pretty nice."

"No!" Dean scowled at his brother. "…Maybe."

They arrived at the girls' office; a suite in a one-story building that also contained a dentists' office and a hair salon. A small bell tinkled as the brothers walked in, and they stood in the lobby, not quite sure of what to do next. There was no one at the front desk, but beside it was a door that presumably led to the back offices. A voice drifted towards them from back there, as if someone was on the phone. They also heard the faint click-clack of a computer keyboard.

"Let's go in," Dean suggested.

"That would be kind of rude," Sam told him. "We should wait until someone comes to the front desk."

"It doesn't look like this place gets a whole lot of business," Dean pointed out. "It could be hours before that happens. I'm going in." He opened the door and walked forward, ramming straight into someone who was about to walk through the door in the other direction.

"Crap. Sorry," he apologized, taking a step back. His eyebrows went up as he appraised the girl in front of him. She was some sort of Latina mix, with dark brown eyes, light brown skin, and curly black hair. Her nose was a little red, from having crashed into his chest, and she was a head or two shorter than him, but she looked exactly like her online picture… except, she was smiling in her picture. She was kind of frowning up at Dean.

"…Ow," she said after a moment. "It's nice to meet you too, jerk. What kind of person walks into a building's back offices uninvited?"

"Told ya so," Sam muttered from behind him. "Sorry about my brother, miss. I'm Sam, and that's Dean. We wanted to talk to you about your latest case—the mass disappearances. You're Alina, right?"

She chewed her bottom lip for a second, narrowing her eyes at them. "Yes, I suppose I am. Follow me."

Dean found himself struggling to come up with either a better apology or a witty pick-up line. He couldn't think of anything, so he followed after Alina and Sam. She led them to a room near the back, in which another girl was seated, typing away on a PC and recording a video blog entry. When they entered, she turned off the camera.

"Sorry to interrupt, Tracy," Alina said, closing the door. "We have visitors."

Alina's sister, who basically looked like a younger version of her with lighter skin and shorter, lighter brown hair twisted into a braid, nodded thoughtfully. "Are these the two hunters?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure at first, but Dean, despite his pretty face, showed an immense lack of tact, and Sam was really personable, and really tall, so I figured it must be the Winchester brothers."

Sam and Dean tensed up instantly, their hands inching towards the weapons they had in their belts. "How the hell do you know who we are?" Dean asked gruffly, trying not to dwell on the fact that Alina had said he had a pretty face.

"Relax," Alina told him. "We just do our research. I mean, there is a whole series of books about you. Plus, you tend to be talked about a lot among other hunters, and we've met a few in our day—enough to convince us that the scary things that hide in your closet and under your bed really exist. Look." She pointed at a silver cross pendant around her neck, and Tracy showed them that she was wearing an identical one.

"If you look over by the window, there's a line of salt on the sill," Tracy pointed out. "And there's a Devil's Trap under the carpet, if you care to check. However, I don't think we're going to show you the anti-possession tattoos we have. I mean, we don't know you that well yet."

"I don't even mind if you feel the need to splash us with holy water," Alina said, "but don't you think that would just be a waste? We're not evil, and we're not going to hurt you, so you can calm your trigger-happy fingers. In fact, we'd like to work with you, if you're willing to. You said you were here about the disappearances, right?"

After a moment, the brothers relaxed and nodded at each other. "Fine. What do you know?" Sam asked.

"Have a seat," Tracy said. "This could take a while."