A/N: As promised, Tooth and Claw. Up next, School Reunion! I have gotten multiple requests about that episode, so I hope I do it justice. We will see the return of a couple key players.

Interlude: Tooth and Claw

John watched in amusement as the Wolf jigged around the console in rhythm to Ian Dury and the Blockheads, music he hadn't listened to since he was fifteen and in a time of revolt against his parents. "You're a punk," he realized, shaking his head in surprise.

The Wolf grinned at him, her tongue peeking out. "It's good to be a lunatic," she claimed.

"That's what you are. You're just a little blonde punk with some rockabilly thrown in," John countered.

"Would you like to see him?" the Wolf asked, still bouncing around to the tune.

"Go to one of his concerts?"

"What else is the TARDIS for?" she replied. "I can take you to the Battle of Trafalgar, the first anti-gravity Olympics, Caesar crossing the Rubicon, or Ian Dury at the Top Rank, Sheffield, England, Earth, 21st of November, 1979. What do you think?" she asked excitedly.

John grinned. "Sheffield it is," he agreed.

The Wolf winked. "Hold on tight." She threw a lever down and the TARDIS lurched. She beat the rhythm of the song on the console as the ship flew, causing the TARDIS to speed up and slow down accordingly. The ship stopped suddenly, throwing the both of them to the ground, giggling like kids. The Wolf leapt to her feet and pulled John to his. "1979! Hell of a year," she exclaimed as she grabbed her blue jacket. "China invades Vietnam. The Muppet Movie. Oh!" The Wolf spun around. "That's another movie I love. Add it to the list. The original, mind you." She turned back to go through the door. "Where was I? Right. Margaret Thatcher. Eh. Skylab falls to Earth, with a little help from me. Nearly took off my thumb."

John followed the Wolf outside as she kept babbling. "And I like my thumb. I need my thumb. I'm very attached to my –" They stopped dead at the sound of rifles cocking. "My thumb," the Wolf finished as they both raised their hands.

"I am so sick of this greeting," John hissed at her as he eyed the mounted soldiers warily.

"1879," the Wolf breathed. "Same difference."

"You will explain your presence," the leader ordered.

"Are we in Scotland?" the Wolf asked, copying the sergeant's accent perfectly.

The soldier merely raised his weapon further. "How can you be ignorant of that?" he asked harshly.

The Wolf shrugged. "Oh, I'm – I'm dazed and confused. We've been chasing this – this goat that's escaped from Doctor James McCrimmon's sanatorium here all over hill and dale. It's a timorous beastie. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

John gave her a bemused look. "Huh?" he said dumbly. The Wolf elbowed him in the ribs, making him grunt. "Right," he coughed out. "Goat. Black and white. Name's Spot."

The sergeant stared at them, worried that they themselves were the ones that had escaped the sanatorium. "I have his credentials, if I may," the Wolf offered, going for her jacket pocket. The soldier nodded hesitantly, and the Wolf pulled out her psychic paper. "As you can see, he's got a Doctorate from the University of Edinburgh. Trained under Doctor Bell himself."

"Let them approach," a regal voice came from a horse-drawn carriage.

The sergeant turned back, still hesitant. "I don't think that's wise, ma'am."

"Let them approach," the unknown woman insisted.

A footman opened the carriage door as John and the Wolf drew near, revealing a older woman.

The Wolf let out a huff of surprise. "John, might I introduce her Majesty Queen Victoria. Empress of India and Defender of the Faith."

Tired of waiting for the Wolf, again going by Kaylee, to come down for supper, Queen Victoria sent John up to fetch her. "Probably just sitting on the bed pouting because she doesn't want to change," John muttered. The Queen had deemed the Wolf to be unsuitably dressed for royal company, and had ordered that she be shown some of the Master of the house's wife's clothes.

Now, John looked at the doors lining the hall on either side of the stairs. He had no idea which room the Wolf was actually in. Shrugging, he opened the first door on his left and peeked inside. Seeing no one, he moved on to the next door down. Just as he was about to close the third door he'd tried, John heard a rustle inside. Curious, he went in to have a look around.

Another small noise came from the direction of the wardrobe, and sounded like muffled cries. John gently opened the wood doors. A young girl dressed as a housemaid shrank away in fear, still crying. "Shh, it's okay," John comforted her, crouching down to be on the maid's level. "I'm not going to hurt you, it's alright."

After a moment, the young maid hesitantly took his offered hand, allowing him to pull her out of the cupboard she had been hiding in. "Thank you, sir," she whispered.

"That's better, isn't it?" John asked kindly, seating her on the bed. He noticed the girl was shaking like a leaf. "Can you tell me what has you so frightened?"

"The – the men. The monks," she stuttered. "They arrived in the night. They came through the house. In the excitement they took the Steward and the Master, and my Lady." The maid's tears began again.

"Shh. Shh, it's alright," John said absently as he thought about what the girl had told him. The Master, Sir Robert, had been taken, but was just downstairs. He hadn't seen any monks, but all the perfectly bald men were suspicious, and from the stereotypes he knew about, monks often shaved their heads. Thinking back, John realized that he hadn't seen a single servant that wasn't a suspected monk. The Lady of the house was missing as well. He needed to get the Wolf.

Having decided all this in a few seconds, John turned back to the girl. "Listen. I've got a friend," he told her. "She's called the Wolf. She'll know what to do. You'll need to come with me, though." He stood up to go, but the maid held him back.

"Oh, but I can't, Sir," she said fearfully.

"What's your name?" John asked.

"Flora, Sir."

"Flora, we'll be safe," he reassured her. "There are soldiers downstairs, here with the Queen. They'll be able to help us. I promise. Come on." He helped her to her feet. Flora allowed him to lead her to the door, but clung to John, shaking still. "It's okay, come on," he said again.

Flora followed him out into the corridor, where John saw a soldier lying on the floor. "Oh, Sir. I did warn you," Flora moaned.

John dropped to his knees beside the man and felt for a pulse in his wrist. "He's not dead," John informed her when he felt the steady beat. "He must be drugged." He turned to look back at Flora, but the girl wasn't there. "Flora?"

Hands grabbed him from behind. John tried to put up a fight, even managing to land a punch, forcing the owner of one pair of hands to grunt and pull away from him. But something hard hit the back of John's head, and everything went dark.

Having decided to ignore the Queen's order to change her clothes, the Wolf moved to leave the room she had been placed in. As her hand went for the door handle, she thought she heard a scuffle outside. The Wolf quickly opened the door and stuck her head out, and was greeted with an empty corridor. Shrugging, the Wolf went downstairs to join the others for supper.

She was surprised to not see John in the dining room, just as the Queen was surprised to see her alone and a bit miffed that she was still in her former clothes. "Miss Wolf, might I inquire where the good Doctor is? He was sent to retrieve you. After you had dressed suitably," she reprimanded.

The Wolf shrugged. "Oh, he'll wander in shortly. He always does," she said nonchalantly, ignoring the rest of the Queen's words.

Victoria let it go, a disapproving glare her only answer.

John woke slowly, an aching in his head. He squinted, trying to see the people with him in the dark room, wherever they were. He tried to stand, but the chains around his wrists he hadn't noticed before prevented that. He tried to tug them off, but a small hand stopped him. "It won't work," a well dressed lady John assumed was the missing Lady Isobel told him. "Don't make a sound. They said if we scream or shout, then he will slaughter us," she warned, pointing out the young man behind bars that John had missed in his earlier perusal.

John looked at Isobel quizzically. "But he's in a cage," he said. "He's a prisoner, same as us."

"He's nothing like us," Isobel denied blackly. "That creature is not mortal." At the lady's words, the young man opened his eyes, revealing pupils that had taken over the entire iris. Isobel shrank back from the sight, but John got to his feet. He moved toward the crate as far as the chain would allow her. "Don't, young man," Isobel warned.

"Who are you?" John asked the boy.

"Don't enrage him," a manservant joined in.

The boy didn't pay John any mind. "Where are you from?" John tried. "You're not from Earth. What planet are you from?"

That caught the boy's attention. "Oh, intelligence," he hissed in delight.

"Where are you from?" John asked again.

Have care. He ignored his subconscious.

"This body? Ten miles away," the mysterious boy answered. "A weakling, heartsick boy. Stolen away at night by the brethren for my cultivation. I carved out his soul and sat in his heart," he finished with gleeful cruelty.

John couldn't help the step he took away from whatever was in the boy's body, but gathering his courage, he remained still after. "All right, so the body's human," he mused, trying to work it out. "But what about you, the thing inside?"

"So far from home," the boy moaned.

John latched onto that. "If you want to get back home, we can help," he offered.

"Why would I want to leave this place? A world of industry, of workforce and warfare. I could turn it to such purpose."

"How would you do that?" John asked.

"I would migrate to the holy monarch," the alien replied.

"You mean Queen Victoria?" John said in surprise.

"With one bite, I would pass into her blood, and then it begins. The Empire of the Wolf." John's eyes widened at the mention of wolves, but the boy lunged forward, banging on the bars of his crate and causing John to flinch. "So many questions," he spat out. "But you. Look. Inside you. You've seen it too."

"Seen what?" John asked warily.

"The golden Wolf! The howling storm...you and she burnt like the sun, but all I require is the moon."

John watched in horror as the boy transformed before his eyes. He ordered the servants to pull on the chains to try to break them free from the wall. Just as it tore free, the Wolf and Sir Robert kicked their way into the cellar. "Where the hell have you been?" John growled as the Wolf urged him out the doors.

The Wolf paused when she saw the wolf in the crate. "Oh, that's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yeah, you can admire your cousin later. Let's go," John urged, pulling her along with him.

John hesitated outside the library when the sergeant insisted they leave him to buy them some time. As the soldier emptied his revolver at it, the werewolf pounced and began to tear into him. John watched in a kind of frozen horror.

"John!" the Wolf yelled and dragged him into the library just as the werewolf turned its head to him. She slammed the door in its face and they barricaded it.

Once all the doors were blocked, the growling and pacing they could hear outside the room faded away. John breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced over at the Wolf, who seemed similarly glad for the reprieve. She came over to grab him in a tight hug. "You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, but werewolves? Really?" he asked with a grin. "Vampires last week and now werewolves? What even is our life?"

The Wolf looked up at him, excitement in her eyes. "I know! But I feel that I must point out that that is not an actual werewolf, more of a lupine wavelength haemovariform. Nor were the haemovores real vampires."

John shrugged. "Close enough."

"We need to get to the observatory," the Wolf said after Isobel and the maids had forced the werewolf's temporary retreat with mistletoe.

"Down the hall to the right, up the staircase, down the next hall and up the stairs on the left, third door on the left," John recited promptly, before Sir Robert could reply.

The Wolf gave him a look, her eyebrows raised. "Good memory Johnny," she complimented, surprised.

John shook his head, confused. "Just good with directions," he excused.

The Wolf gave him one last look. "Guess we should let you drive from now on, huh?"

John smiled. "Maybe we'd get where we're going half the time, then," he teased.

"Oi!"

"No mistletoe in these doors because your father wanted the wolf to get inside," the Wolf told Sir Robert. "I just need time. Is there any way of barricading this?"

"Just do your work and I'll defend it," Robert said stoically.

"If we could bind them shut with rope or something," the Wolf went on, ignoring Robert.

"I said I'd find you time, Ma'am. Now get inside," Robert ordered.

The Wolf glared at him. "No. No one else in this house is going to die tonight," she stated.

"We don't have time to argue," Robert denied. "Doctor, please," he called to John, who was standing near the Wolf's back, watching on uncertainly.

John hesitated for a moment, but grabbed the Wolf around the waist and dragged her into the observatory against her protests. She struggled violently in his arms, but he held her firmly off the ground as Robert slammed the double doors shut behind them. "Wolf, we have to end this," he whispered in her ear. "You're the only one who can."

The Wolf stilled for a moment, staring at the doors in an agony of indecision. But then, she indicated for him to put her down and turned to Victoria. "Your Majesty, the diamond," she requested decisively.

Victoria drew back, hands cradling the bag protectively. "For what purpose?" she questioned.

"The purpose it was designed for."

The werewolf defeated, Queen Victoria honored John and the Wolf, and then promptly banished them forever. John tried to protest. "She saved your life! You can't just –" he began, but the Wolf stood quickly and dragged him up by his arm.

"About time we found Spot, eh, Doctor?" she said cheerily, pulling him away from the Queen and Torchwood Estate. They flagged down a passing cart and hitched a ride back to the TARDIS.

"Why did you stop me from saying anything, Wolf?" John asked her as they sat on the back of the cart. "You saved her. Without you, she'd be dead now, or a werewolf."

The Wolf sighed. "Victoria's an old woman, set in her ways. You were never going to change her mind. The Queen had a truly terrifying night. I let her take back control of one bit of her life. She needed it."

John nodded, understanding, though still not entirely pleased with the queen's reaction. "Tell you what though," he added with a grin a few moments later. "Knighted and banished in one day."

The Wolf chuckled. "Has to be some kind of a record huh? Sir James McCrimmon of Kingston," she teased.

"Lady Kaylee Wolf of TARDIS," John shot back.

The Wolf rolled her eyes at the cover name she now appeared to be stuck with. "You and your television."