When it first started, he could deal with it. The night sweats and the
increased irritability at the moon grew fuller, he was able to dismiss
as just a product of his often hectic lifestyle.
But when even Donna, his often oblivious companion began to notice the
changes he had a harder time keeping it secret.
The day she came down to breakfast and found him happily gnawing on a
bloody rare beefsteak she could no longer deny something was wrong.
"Oi! Space dunce!" she snapped trying not to let the concern for this
odd behaviour show in her voice, "you're supposed to cook that first!"
she made to grab it out of his hands but he growled and snapped at her
and she jumped back.
The Doctor's expression was just as shocked as Donna's at his
reaction. She stepped back, arms crossed and glared at him, "don't
you dare try to bite me," she scooped a newspaper off the table and
rolled it up, "I know how to deal with bad puppies!"
"I'm sorry," he held up his hands apologetically, "I don't know what
came over me."
Donna let her guard down a bit at his pleading look, "you've been
acting pretty nutso lately…" she ventured, "first you tried to chase
that poor moggy up a tree, yesterday you were scratching your ear with
your foot and now this?"
"It's nothing," The Doctor tried to sound casual, but he could tell
she was not falling for it, "honestly! It's nothing!"
Donna took the seat next to him, setting the rolled up paper down but
keeping it within arm's reach, "pull the other one," she laughed, "if
I were to ignore your odd eating habits, and the way you've had to
shave four times a day, and your sudden need to sniff every tree we
pass, I would still have a hard time dismissing those fangs," she
reached forward and tapped the side of his mouth.
Reaching up with a questioning look on his face The Doctor touched his
teeth, his long fingers running over the newly sharp canines, their
ends pricking at his sensitive skin, "that's new," he murmured.
"Now that you know that I know and we can dispense with the
pretending," Donna replied softly, "tell me what's going on?"
For a moment it looked like he wasn't going to talk to her, then he
leaned back with a sigh, his eyes going slightly out of focus as he
spoke.
"Rose and I wound up in Scotland on one of our trips…" he began to
tell the tale of meeting up with a real live werewolf and concluded
with, "and when I got bitten, it was just a little nip so I didn't
think anything of it, and now…" he broke off with a sigh.
"You're a werewolf?" Donna eyed him suspiciously.
"I thought it didn't affect me, I mean, that was years ago and I'm a Time Lord!"
"A Time Lord werewolf," Donna mused, "does that make you a Time Wolf
or a Were Lord?"
He shot her a look and she realised now was not the time to play word
games, "so, aside from silver bullets any ideas?"
"I've been putting it off, but I think it may be time to visit
Torchwood…" he sighed.
"Jack!" Donna grinned, "now, he'd be a sight for sore eyes, a real
man!" then realising she what she had just said she smiled
apologetically, "I mean a real human man, of course!"
"Of course," The Doctor nodded, even though it was apparent that he
wasn't quite mollified by her explanation.