Author's Note: Hello again! Well, this one looks like it's going to be fun. I'm thinking of maybe doing a series of monster stories for the Halloween season. I've obviously started with werewolves. The outline says that this story will have four chapters and an epilogue. That might change, but so far, that's the breakdown. Hope you like it!

This fic contains spoilers for Doctor Who Season Two Episode Two, "Tooth and Claw". And you sort of won't get it unless you've seen that episode. You should watch it. I promise it's good. One of my favorites, actually.


"Torchwood House?" Gwen closed the door to the SUV, reading incredulously from the sign that hung over the entrance of the large, faded building.

Jack grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to get a good look at it. "Built in 1500 by the MacLeish family, purchased by the crown in 1879 after the death of the Sir Robert MacLeish." He looked at Gwen. "This was the first Torchwood headquarters."

She stared up at it, imposing in the storm-dulled light of the late afternoon. "What is it now?"

"A tourist trap." Ianto stepped out of the SUV and slammed the door, hardly glancing up at the house, instead looking out across the vast overgrown fields that surrounded it in every direction.

Jack glanced in his direction. "Not a fan of travel, Ianto?"

"Not when it's to Scotland, no."

"I thought you'd like Scotland. They have the same feelings for sheep as Wales."

Ianto leaned against the SUV. "Thank you, Jack, for so elegantly reducing my homeland to a bunch of lecherous shepherds."

"Doesn't the phrase 'lecherous shepherds' just roll off the tongue?"

"Welcome!" A new voice swept toward them from the front doors, carrying a woman in its wake. She was a bit stout, with an absolutely merry face, and as she approached she held out a hand. "I'm Louisa, the Torchwood House caretaker."

Jack took her hand and kissed it. She flushed and giggled; Ianto rolled his eyes hugely. "Captain Jack Harkness. This is Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones."

"Lovely to meet you all. How can I help you?"

"We were hoping to have a look around."

She looked positively delighted. "I could give you the tour, if you like! Hardly anyone comes out all of this way to see the house. It would be a pleasure."

"Sounds great." Jack smiled and she turned, indicating for them to follow her. He glanced at Ianto, whose eyes were going to drop into the dirt if he kept it up.

Gwen followed the woman and Jack started after her, but Ianto caught his sleeve and said very quietly, "We're here to investigate mutilated livestock."

Jack gestured at the building. "Local knowledge! If anyone knows anything about what happens here, she does."

Ianto stared at Jack with a deadpan expression.

Jack smiled. "You'll like it, I promise. It's old in the best possible ways." He turned and followed Gwen and Louisa toward the house.

Ianto pulled his jacket closer around himself and walked after him, a frown deeply creasing his face.

- - -

Twenty minutes later, Ianto couldn't help but agree with Jack's sentiments on the place. It was old in the best possible ways. And when they came to the observatory, Jack's cocky grin told him all about his own expression.

"The Endeavor Telescope," Louisa said expansively, gesturing at the huge, beautiful piece of equipment facing out of a high window. "Built by Sir George MacLeish. He was a remarkable man. Very ahead of his time in the areas of science and maths." She smiled, watching Ianto approach the telescope. "A good friend of Prince Albert."

Ianto touched the cogwheel on the side of the telescope. "Is this the original model?"

"No, unfortunately," Louisa said. "It's in private hands, now."

Behind her head, Jack mouthed to Ianto, Torchwood Two.

Ianto smirked and went back to examining the telescope. Gwen was on the other side, running her hand along the shining surface of it.

Jack spoke from near the door. "Louisa, have you been hearing anything about the livestock in this area?"

Louisa frowned. "Oh, it's terrible what's been happening! They've found a few dozen animals torn apart over the last few years. It's gotten worse of late." She dropped her voice to a conspirator's whisper, "And always after the night of the full moon!"

"You think that has something to do with it?" Jack looked amused, but glancing at him, Ianto could see the actual interest in his eyes.

Louisa waved her hands. "Those are just kids' stories, really."

"Tell us," Gwen said, leaning against a windowsill beside the telescope. "I'm always up for a story."

"Well." Louisa smiled, looking between the three of them. "There've been legends about a werewolf in this place for ages. Hundreds of years. Since before Queen Victoria bought this house. Every full moon, they'd find animal carcasses that looked like they'd been eaten by a huge beast. And once a generation, a boy would go missing from his home."

Ianto looked at her, brow furrowed. "Why was that?"

She put up her hands. "No one knows! Then, one year, it stopped. 1879, the year Robert MacLeish died. All of the reports of livestock being eaten and children being taken cut off. Until a few years ago. Every month, another dead animal. And now, more and more. At first we thought it was just kids messing, and doing a poor job of it, hurting farmers like that, but then it kept on." She shrugged, eyes wide. "We don't have an explanation for it. It is very strange, isn't it?"

Jack nodded, coming toward her. "Have there been any reports of missing children?"

She blinked. "No, not that I've heard. Well, kids go missing from the bigger cities all the time, but never around here. Hardly anyone lives here, anyway, just the farmers and the monks."

Gwen spoke from her spot near the window. "Monks?"

"Glen of Saint Catherine Monastery. They've been there well before this house was built. Very reclusive. Well, monks for you, eh? Mind you, if you're looking for a place to stay, they offer lodging, free of charge." She looked a bit apologetic. "No proper hotel anywhere near here, of course."

"Of course," Ianto said under his breath.

"Thanks for the suggestion," Jack said. "I think we'll take you up on it."

"Of course we will," Ianto sighed, louder, looking at Gwen, who held a giggle behind her hand.

Jack cut his eyes to him. "We should probably be going." He held his hand out for Louisa's. "Thank you for the tour."

"No problem at all!" She accepted his hand, and he raised it to his lips. She blushed again. "Come back any time."

Jack smiled. "We will." He looked to Ianto and Gwen. "Come on. Time to meet some monks."

- - -

The monastery was difficult to miss. The Glen of Saint Catherine wasn't so much a town as a collection of farms, widely spaced, at the center of which stood a sprawling set of buildings, some tall and beautifully ornate, some squat and dark, all of them connected by courtyards and open passages. It was, like most religious buildings built in the early centuries, a breathtaking sight.

As they began to exit the SUV, a man in a black robe crunched over the car park gravel toward them. The heavy light of the setting sun lit him, and the ancient-looking stone spires of the monastery, from behind, lending both a heavenly sort of glow. Jack met him halfway and held out a hand. "Captain Jack Harkness. Louisa at Torchwood House recommended that we see about staying here."

The man in the robe smiled, shaking Jack's hand. "Louisa does well to send people our way. My name is Brother Ewan. How long will you be staying?"

"Few days, probably. We're investigating the reports of livestock mutilation from farms in the area." Jack looked over his shoulder to nod at Gwen and Ianto, who began to take their bags out of the SUV.

"Is that right?" Father Ewan smiled toward Gwen and Ianto, then looked back at Jack. "I hope that you find whatever has been causing it. I pray that no human is to blame. Shall I show you to where you will be staying?"

"Sounds good." He gestured for Gwen and Ianto to come with them, and Brother Ewan started back toward the entrance of the monastery. Jack waited for the two of them to reach him – and Ianto immediately pushed his own suitcase into his arms.

"We aren't your porters."

Then he kept moving, past Jack, following Brother Ewan.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Gwen. "What's his problem?"

Gwen shrugged, starting after him. "No idea. He's been quiet since we left Torchwood House."

Jack laughed. "When is Ianto not quiet?"

"More quiet than usual, then. Don't be daft, Jack."

He held up his free hand in surrender. They crossed the threshold and entered the monastery. Above them, colored light shone down from a huge stained glass window and left its yellow, blue, red traces on the stone floor. Brother Ewan smiled at them and swept an arm toward a corridor leading deeper into the building, bowing slightly. They moved on, with the monk falling in behind them.

"Where is everyone?" Gwen asked after a moment, peering down each hall and into each room as they passed.

"Right now is the time for quiet study or work in the monastery gardens, before coming together for Vespers." Seeing Gwen's confusion at the term, Brother Ewan explained, "Evening prayers. You are welcome to join us, if you like."

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, Brother. We've been on the road all day. Maybe we'll take you up on that tomorrow."

"It's no problem, Captain." He stopped and gestured at three open doors. "Will these rooms be acceptable?"

Jack peered inside one of them. "They look fine." He looked back at the monk. "Thank you, Brother Ewan."

"My pleasure. I'll send one of the Brethren down to collect you for the evening meal after Vespers. Is there anything that you need right now?"

"No, thank you."

Brother Ewan bowed slightly, his black robe shifting forward, then straightened and walked off down the corridor, disappearing as he turned a corner.

Gwen looked into the middle room, tracing her hand along the wall until she found the light switch and flicked it on. Her face fell at the sight of it. Small, dark, sparsely decorated and, she noticed as she stepped in, very cold. "Brilliant," she muttered.

"Free," Jack said behind her, smirking. "You've probably had worse nights in bad hotels. And I've found that the grub in these places is fantastic."

"Been to a lot of monasteries, have you?" Gwen dropped her suitcase on the bed and wandered over to a small mirror hung over a narrow chest of drawers, pulling at her travel-mussed hair.

"A few." He heard a door close and looked out into the hall. Ianto was gone, and the door to the right of Gwen's was shut. He frowned.

Gwen looked at him. "They probably won't appreciate you being in a lady's room, Jack." She smirked.

He laughed. "Guess not. See you at dinner, then."

Gwen sighed wistfully. "I'm going to take a nap, and it's going to be lovely."

"You do that." He stepped out of her room and shut the door behind him. Then he opened his own door, turned on the light and went inside.

- - -

After the meal, Gwen went straight back to her room, her eyes still lidded from what brief sleep she'd had. The monks, all silent as they ate at the long table – and not many of them Jack noticed; about thirty in all – retired for private prayer. And Ianto disappeared. So Jack went to find him.

He wasn't in his room. The SUV was still in the car park. So Jack wandered the halls of the monastery as quietly as possible, feeling its heavy presence pressing down on him from the high ceilings etched with images of faith; saints, crosses, robed men. The wide-eyed stares from the faces in the portraits in the halls, which looked out from beneath wide halos, hands raised in peace, made Jack uncomfortable, and he averted his eyes. They watched him pass without comment.

He found Ianto in the monastery church, leaning against a pillar in the rear of the large, beautiful room. It was lit only with tiers of candles at either end, and they cast an eerie light on the small form of him, flickering across his face as he stared up at the crucifix hung over the distant altar. Jack approached slowly, letting his footsteps ring and reverberate from the walls and vaulted ceiling. Ianto didn't look at him. He positioned himself against the pillar next to Ianto's, facing him, putting his back to the dark wood and his hands in his pocket, letting his eyes follow Ianto's gaze to the lit figure hanging at the top of the church. They stood like that in silence for a moment.

Finally, Ianto said, "When I was a kid, I was afraid of crucifixes. I read a story where all of the Christs on all of the crosses in the world came to life and tried to escape. Their churches had to nail them back to the wood, and they would bleed for days, screaming. I was afraid that the Christ on the crucifix that my dad hung next to my door would escape, and we'd have to nail him back, and I'd have to listen to him scream."

Jack watched his face, the passiveness there, and the intensity beneath, only noticeable in the slight rise in the rate of his breathing, the quick rise and fall of his chest beneath his suit jacket, almost hidden by the flickering quality of the light. "I didn't know that your father was religious."

Ianto nodded. "He made me go to church. Every Sunday until I was eleven, when I ran away to avoid it." He looked up, tracing the dark rafters with his eyes. "These places always remind me of him. That feeling of knowing what the priest is saying is wrong. Not being able to do anything about it. Being forced to go and never wanting to." He dropped his eyes. "Places like this are beautiful and dangerous."

Jack smiled softly. "That's sort of wise."

Ianto shrugged, bringing his eyes back up to the cross.

Jack looked up to where the pillar he leaned against met the ceiling. "Where I grew up – when I grew up – we didn't have religion like this." Ianto looked at him, surprised. He continued, distantly. "Well, there was religion. But it was more like the older religions. Celtic, almost. Polytheistic, nature-based. Religion never really loses the basic tenants. A higher power, do no harm. Those things are central to most religions, probably forever."

Ianto furrowed his brow, watching Jack. "Why do we do it? Why do humans seek a higher power, a creator?"

Jack shook his head slowly. "It isn't just humans. It's everyone. Every self-aware creature looks for what made it."

"But why?"

Jack met his eyes. "We don't want chaos to be the explanation. We want to know that we're here for a purpose."

Ianto frowned. "But – we aren't. We're an accident. Chaos is the explanation."

Jack grinned. "Try telling that to the Vatican."

Ianto copied his grin. "I'm sure it's been attempted."

Jack came forward and wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist. "And they were probably thrown down the steps with their charts and diagrams."

Ianto put his head on Jack's shoulder. "The Pope threw his hat after them in a fit of rage."

There was the sound of footsteps and the brush of robes against the slate floor, and a gaunt, tall monk appeared from the hall, holding a large snuffer. Jack released Ianto and stepped back. "Come on," he said. "Lots to do tomorrow. Farmers to interview, dead sheep to inspect. And there's the full moon."

He started for the doors and Ianto followed, bearing one brief glance back as the lone monk extinguished the final candle, and the room went dark.

A/N 2: That story Ianto describes really exists. "Salvation" by Lawrence Person. Google it. It's short and terrifying.

Sorry there was no actual wolfy goodness in this chapter. But we do have ominous monks. They're always fun.