Chapter 2: The Oncoming Storm

He watched the coming dawn through narrowed eyes. He had no doubts that someone else had been attacked the night before. Somewhere, in the darkness of Cardiff, another innocent victim had been bitten – perhaps even truly killed – by a vampire. His hands clenched into fists as the first amber rays of light appeared over the distant horizon.

Much as he wished he could protect humanity from all the dangers that lurked in the darkness – both from their own world and from beyond – he was pragmatic enough to realise that even he had his limits. The Doctor, the last Time Lord, the Ka Faraq Gatri, Time's Champion. Labels, yes, and, rather often, a heavy responsibility.

Somewhere, in the darkness, the vampires were going to sleep, hidden from the burning rays of the sun. He had to find them, and stop them, before more innocent lives were taken or altered at their whim. In a way, he was thankful that his people were gone. He knew far too well what the Celestial Intervention Agency's response would've been at the revelation that their ancient enemy was alive and well and living in Cardiff.

Cardiff would've been destroyed. If not the planet.

He sighed and turned from the kitchen window. First things first. He needed to remember as much as he could about vampires. What were their weaknesses? Their failings? What could kill them or prevent someone from turning? What could…

He silently cursed under his breath. If he had access the labs on the TARDIS, he could come up with something that could protect them from the vampires. Only temporarily, but it should be enough to keep them at bay should they learn of his investigations. However, he'd have to do with what help faith, several cloves of garlic, and a few wooden stakes could provide.

"Good morning, Doctor," Evelyn said as she walked into the kitchen. "You're up early."

He shrugged noncommittally. He'd never been one for sleep. The previous evening, he'd tried but disturbing half-formed images and an active mind prevented any form of rest. "Good morning, Evelyn."

"Would you care for some hot cocoa?" She bustled toward the stove, pulling down a pan and a packet of cocoa mix. "Breakfast is a bit of do it yourself thing this morning. I've got cereal and there should be some eggs and bacon, or waffles. I don't want to leave my niece's side for long."

He frowned. If her niece had been bitten... He looked at her, concerned. "You'll have to leave her alone tonight. She'll be hungry, and I don't want her to come after you."

He could tell that she was about to protest, but she seemed to deflate instead, looking all of her sixty-five years and then some. "Doctor, she's the only family that I have left. There must be something that can be done."

He wanted to lie to her, tell her that there was no doubt he could save her niece. That was what he did, after all. Save a person, save the day. But, in this case, he couldn't. Not to Evelyn. She knew him too well. "Oh, there's plenty that can be done. You will need to eat garlic, as much of it and as frequently as possible. I'll have to talk to her and get a description of the one that bit her. And then I will have to find the one who bit her before the next full moon." He made a few mental calculations. He'd have at least four days to find the vampire who had bitten Evelyn's niece.

"And once you find that vampire?" Evelyn prodded.

"I'll have to kill it," he replied. "If I don't, the change will be permanent."

She pulled in a sharp breath and her hand paused in the midst of the act of stirring. "Oh."

Rose stumbled into the room shortly thereafter, wincing as the sunlight hit her eyes. "'S bright out there." Without waiting for a comment from either himself or Evelyn, she continued, "What's for breakfast?"

"Cereal, eggs and bacon, beans, or waffles. What would you like?" Evelyn seemed to put her earlier concerns behind her as she pulled down three mugs from above the stove and began to pour a measure of the cocoa into each.

"Mmm, cereal I think, thanks. Where d'you keep it?" Rose asked.

"Oh, nonsense. Sit down, you too, Doctor. I'll get it for you." Evelyn crossed the kitchen to the larder and, opening the door, she disappeared inside for a moment.

He shook his head and he picked up two of the mugs of cocoa, nodding for Rose to take the third. Rose looked a trifle pale as she grasped the last cup and a pang of worry shot through him at her appearance. "Are you all right, Rose?"

"'M fine," she immediately replied. "Jus' a bit tired, though. Didn't sleep too well last night."

He frowned and turned his full attention to her. He glanced quickly at her neck and he couldn't hide the relief on his face that there was nothing marring her skin. "Nightmares?" he asked, well recalling the recurring dream that had woken her several nights in a row.

She shrugged. "I dunno. Jus' couldn't sleep."

She was hiding something, but he decided to let it pass. He didn't want to pry. "We'll go to the police department this morning and learn what they know. Do you still want to go, or would you prefer to stay here?"

Rose shook her head. "No, I'll come with you. You need me."

He reached across the table to grasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Always."

She looked thoughtful for a moment before she added, "'Sides, knowin' you, you'd get into trouble without me an' then I'd have to come and rescue you. Gets a little old, that."

Before he could do more than open his mouth to protest, Evelyn's laughter signalled her return. "He hasn't changed a bit, then. He always did get into trouble without me. Then again, I tended to get into trouble without him, too."

Rose grinned and, for a moment, he was uncomfortably reminded of their encounter with Sarah Jane. "Did not. Well, maybe a bit. But not always."

His companions' laughter filled the room.

Great. No, and Jack deliberately used his so-called friend's favourite word, fantastic. After all this time, the bastard had finally chosen to show up literally on his doorstep. The proof was right in front of him in grainy black and white. Oh, sure, he knew he still had Rose with him. Knew he had picked up a new face, too. The legends were right in those regards – Time Lords and their means of cheating death. But he certainly hadn't missed the Doctor. Oh, no. Hadn't missed him at all. He hadn't mourned him, either. Not for nights at a time. Not for months. Not for years.

He hadn't missed Rose either, but he couldn't blame her. It had always been about Rose. The Doctor had always loved her, even though he'd never actually said the words. Of course he'd returned for her. Must've done, right after regeneration. That was the only thing to explain the data in the Torchwood files about the Doctor and the Prime Minister. Not to mention Queen Victoria. Sir Doctor of TARDIS, indeed.

The bastard hadn't returned for him, though. And that had been a sobering thought as he'd discovered just what he'd meant to the last Time Lord. He'd been nothing more than a tagalong, a toy, a tool. Didn't matter that he had loved him. Didn't matter that he'd died for him. The Doctor had still left him behind. Changed him, ruined him, and then dumped him.

The photo of the TARDIS made a satisfying ripping noise as he tore the sheet in two. It didn't matter, he told himself firmly. They'd deal with the Doctor (bastard) in due course. For now, he had more important things to concern himself with.

"Did you get the files I asked for?" he asked Gwen, systematically shredding the picture.

She shot him a concerned glance, but she said nothing about his actions. Smart woman. "Yes," she replied, holding out a thick manila folder. "This is everything homicide has on the case, including crime scene photos, autopsy reports, and the few eye-witness accounts that exist."

He brushed the fragments of the photo into the waste bin and then accepted the folder, flipping it open to the first page. It was a generic case report. Victim's name: Emily Cutting. DOB: June 6th, 1984. Barely younger than Rose, then. He firmly suppressed the thought. It didn't matter.

The crime scene photos revealed little beyond the abundance of cover for an unscrupulous attacker. There was nothing obvious about the scenes. He flipped the pages. Each photograph was nearly identical. A shadowed alleyway, plenty of hiding spots, and – in the later photos – crime scene tape marking off the scene of the crime. There was surprisingly little blood on the concrete, but he hadn't expected any.

Every rookie at the Time Agency had learned about vampires. Either from their mentors or from their fellow cadets, the stories had spread firmly intertwined with tales of Time Lords. There'd been a war, it was said. And all the Great Vampires – apparently monstrous beasts – had been destroyed save one by the Time Lords. Their legacy, however, had lived on in the humanoid vampires that they'd left behind.

There were vampires on every world in the Terran Empire. Every rookie would carry a wooden stake with them, though none of them truly believed the stories. They were just a bit of fun, a harmless lie told to keep their senses sharp. There were other monsters out there, and they were there to stop them.

He wanted to laugh bitterly at the thought. He'd been so young then. So naïve. Then again, he'd been just as naïve when he'd first walked into the TARDIS. He'd let the Doctor change him. Let the Time Lord ruin him for the con game. Made him care. Made him want to help. Made him fall in love. Fall in love with the Doctor, fall in love with Rose, and fall in love with their life.

Made him have to suffer, watching as the man, the woman, and that life disappeared into the space-time vortex without him. Enough, he told himself firmly. If he had one weakness, it was that.

The Doctor, memories of.

He flipped the page. "Just the two attacks in their homes?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah. Started just the other night. Two separate attacks, only one survivor." Gwen leaned against his desk, peering at the photographs. "Survivor's name's Victoria Smythe."

"Only in a manner of speaking," he corrected. "We're dealing with vampires, Gwen. There are no survivors. Only victims." He tapped the sheet for a moment, frowning. "But, there might be something we can do. Have a team pick up Miss Smythe. Then we can set Toshiko on the problem. Maybe we can find a way of reversing the process of the change. Save a few lives."

She frowned. "Victoria Smythe's staying with her aunt, one" - Gwen reached over the desk and turned the case report slightly to read the name. - "Evelyn Smythe. That's where the attack took place, at Evelyn's bed and breakfast. From what my contacts at homicide said, she's a force to be reckoned with."

"We'll have to pick her up too. Victoria might've already bitten her. We can't take the chance otherwise. Is there anyone else staying at the bed and breakfast?" It'd be a problem if there were any other civilians at the scene. If there weren't any other guests, they could post something to the effect that the Smythes had been taken in under protective custody and the B&B was closed until the end of the investigation. Yes, that would work.

"Not according to records. Apparently their latest guest disappeared this morning, no indication of where he went or if he was going to return," Gwen summarised.

Now that was suspicious. "Have someone look into the missing guest. See what they can turn up. And put a watch on the Smythe B&B and the other home crime scene. There might be something special about the locations. Our vampire friends might be back."

She nodded. "On it. And Jack…are you all right?"

He sighed. She knew very little about him, but she was still a friend. She still cared. Unlike a certain Time Lord. "Yeah. Just some old memories getting dredged up again."

"Do you want me to put a team on the TARDIS? Bring it into the warehouse?" Gwen asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. Just keep an eye on it. If the Doctor returns, or his companion, Rose Tyler, let me know. I'll figure something out then." Provided he didn't end up deciding to just put the bastard through another regeneration after what he'd pulled.

She didn't look happy with his answer, but she knew well enough when not to press. "Okay. And Jack, if you want to talk…"

It was a shadow of his usual carefree grin, but it was all he could muster. "I'll find you."

With a slight nod and a faint smile, Gwen left his office, leaving him alone with the case files and his memories.

"Damnit, Doctor. Why now?" he whispered.

As expected, there was no response.

What was going on?

He shook his head as he and Rose exited the police station. The extremely helpful sergeant had told him that the cases had been handed over to a higher authority. If he wanted more information, he'd have to go to them. However, the police officer wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, tell him precisely what agency had jurisdiction over the case. It was a matter of national security now.

National security, he'd wanted to scoff. It wasn't a matter of "national" anything.

However, he had to acknowledge that he had reached what amounted to a dead end. Unless he could determine just what government agency had taken over the case files, he wouldn't be able to find out any more information. It certainly wasn't UNIT. It didn't match their typical methods.

"So what now?" Rose asked, her tone unusually sullen.

"Back to Evelyn's. I want to talk to her niece, see what she remembers. Maybe we can learn something new that way." He looked at her curiously for a moment, taking in her uncharacteristic pallor. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She smiled, but it seemed forced. "Told ya. I'm fine. Jus' tired."

It could be sleep deprivation. He'd send her to bed early tonight, he decided. Perhaps a full night's sleep would cheer her spirits. Besides, the following day, they'd be able to get back into the TARDIS.

He hailed a taxi and they climbed in. Thankfully, the ride was much shorter than it was the previous day. He took that to mean that there'd been no attacks. He certainly hadn't heard or seen anything to indicate otherwise.

When they arrived at the bed and breakfast, he realised that something was wrong. He crossed the short distance between the pavement and the front door with several long strides. He could see a yellow sheet of paper attached to the door. Its edges fluttered in the light breeze and he frowned as he read the official-looking note.

The proprietor and residents of this facility have been taken into protective custody for the duration of an on-going investigation. This establishment is closed until further notice.

Signed,

Security Services.

"Oh no," he whispered, a feeling of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. If he'd only stayed with Evelyn, spoken to her niece earlier. This wouldn't've happened. He could've protected them or, at least, provided enough of a distraction for them to get away.

However, he hadn't. He was too late, again.

"Doctor, what security service has the authority to do this? Couldn't've been the police. MI-5?" Rose asked. Ah, yes, and that was the companion that he knew and loved.

"Perhaps," he replied. "It could've been any agency, actually. This notice is probably a distraction. Something meant to steer the curious as far away as possible from the real culprit. Now, if I remember correctly…" He walked over to a potted plant and lifted the plant out of its base. At the bottom of the pot, covered in dirt, was a key. Pulling it out, he handed it to Rose. "Oh, beautiful. She hasn't moved it. That'll get us inside."

Shrugging, Rose dusted the dirt off the key, slid it into the lock and opened the door.

The interior of the Victorian home hadn't been searched, but he hadn't expected it to be. The 'security services' were after Evelyn and her niece, nothing more. They walked into the sitting room and they both claimed a chair. "Right. This calls for a new strategy," he declared once they were seated.

"But how're we supposed to figure out which of the security services have them?" Rose asked, looking at him somewhat strangely. If he had to put a name to it, he'd almost call her expression speculative.

"That's not the strategy, though that's a good question. We can look into that part of this particular problem tomorrow, when we get back into the TARDIS. No, the new strategy is to find ourselves a vampire."

She arched an eyebrow. "What, you're going to bare your neck, walk outside, and cry out dinner's ready?"

"Might do." He tapped his chin thoughtfully before turning toward her. "Think that'd work?"

Rose just shook her head, but he could see a faint smile playing across her lips.

"After dinner of something full of garlic – I'm in favour of a bolognaise, myself – I'll head outside. See what I can see and try to find a vampire. You, however, are going to stay here." He looked at her sternly, trying to quell any protest on her part. Surprisingly, she didn't object.

"I could do with some more sleep. I'm pretty tired," she replied. "Don't do anything dangerous, though, Doctor. I don't want to have to come rescue you."

He assumed an affronted expression. "I never do anything dangerous. Well, sometimes I do, but it's generally for the best of reasons."

After dinner, which Rose had picked at, claiming not to be hungry, he'd slipped out into the night. He hadn't bared his neck, trusting that his mere presence would be enough to attract a vampire. By the time that he'd almost reached Millennium Centre on his walk, he suspected that he wouldn't find anything this particular evening. The city was strangely quiet, almost as if it were waiting for something.

A chill ran up his spine as an uneasy feeling filled him. Something was terribly wrong in Cardiff. Perhaps the TARDIS's emergency landing was planned by something or someone. Perhaps it, too, had something to do with the vampires.

However, it was useless speculation. He needed more facts. Well, what he really needed was to determine what government organisation had taken Evelyn. From that point on, finding the vampire nest should be easy. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, his pace increasing as he headed back to the bed and breakfast.

Though, if he had been targeted by someone or something, why hadn't they attacked him? He was alone, unarmed save for the sonic screwdriver, and what amounted to easy prey. Because…ah, yes. It was relatively common knowledge – a fact that generally annoyed him – that the best was to get to him was to…

Rose.

Rose! His fast walk turned to a run. He needed to see her, needed to make sure she was safe. The house had been closed up, windows and doors locked, before he'd left. He'd checked on her just before he'd left and she'd been sleeping easily. But he'd left her alone.

Oh, what had he been thinking?

The return journey to the bed and breakfast seemed to take an inordinately long amount of time. Despite his speed, the distance had never before seemed as far. He didn't care about finding a vampire. Not tonight. Not anymore. He'd reconsider his plans, factor Rose into them, keep her with him.

She had to be safe. She had to be.

The old Victorian house loomed out of the darkness, but the sight did little to reassure him. The home seemed vaguely ominous now. However, from what he could see, the doors and windows were still locked. Rose's bedroom was on the second floor, but in the back. He could walk around the manor and check from the outside, but he'd prefer to see her first.

He slid the key into the lock and opened the door, wincing as the old wood creaked in protest to the motion. The house was silent but for the slow and methodical ticking of a grandfather clock. Rose was fine, he tried to reassure himself. However, his fears would not be silenced until he could see her.

He climbed the steps quickly, but silently. There was nothing to indicate that there was anything wrong. Nothing at all.

There. Rose's bedroom. Nothing had changed. The door was still closed. The hallway was still silent. She was fine. She was safe. He slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The canopy cast a dark shadow over the bed as he swiftly made his way to the side. He had to see her. He had to…

A cool breeze caused the edges of the canopy to flutter gently and he turned toward the window, realising that it was open.

It hadn't been open before he'd left.

He turned back to the bed and he was certain that his hearts had stopped for a moment.

She wasn't there.

No, wait, that didn't fit. If she'd been bitten, they wouldn't've taken her immediately. They would've waited until she had fully turned. And if they'd killed her, they would've left the body.

Oh, oh no. No, no, no. He should've seen it. Should've known. All the signs. They were right there in front of him and he'd dismissed it. Thought that she hadn't been bitten because he hadn't seen any puncture wounds. He could see makeup – presumably something borrowed from Evelyn – on the counter.

He loved her, he cared about her, and he'd still missed the changes that should've been obvious. He missed her pallor. He missed her edginess around him and the way she eyed him speculatively. He'd passed it all off as sleep deprivation, as nothing to worry about, when he should've worried.

He should've known.

There was a reason Rose Tyler was gone. It was because she wasn't Rose Tyler. Not anymore. She'd gone to bed his companion.

She'd left a vampire.

To be continued...