Title: Burns Like the Night
Authors: Gillian Taylor
Rating: R
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose, Jack
Summary: When is a dream a dream and a nightmare the future?
Spoilers: PotW, speculation on Torchwood, and references to the Missing Adventure 'Goth Opera' and the BF Audio companion Evelyn Smythe (Note, in Evelyn's Timeline, I'm ignoring the 'Project: Twilight, Project: Lazarus, & 'Arrangements For War' trilogy audios - they didn't happen, so consider this AU from her perspective)
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
Archive: Sure, just let me know.

A/N: First off, a million thanks to my fabulous betas NNWest, Ponygirl72, and ChloeAz. This fic was written for Loneraven's Tenth Doctor Ficathon for WMR who wanted Jack returned but unhappy; shippiness; & an impossible choice.

Burns Like the Night
by Gillian Taylor

Chapter 1: Screams in the Dark

The dream ended as it always had: with a scream.

Rose sat upright in bed with a gasp as she was wrenched from sleep by the force of sudden, all-consuming terror. Her still sleep-befuddled mind fought against unseen bonds before she recognised the feel of the sheets that had wrapped around her during the course of the night. Stilling her struggles, she opened her eyes and stared blankly into the darkness of her room. "Not again," she whispered, cradling her head between her hands.

The first time that this had happened, the Doctor had heard her scream. He'd held her until her tremors had stopped, whispering to her of the places he was going to take her. She knew that he blamed himself for the night terrors, despite her assurances otherwise. However, she hadn't wanted to talk about it, despite his encouragements. She'd only wanted to be held, comforted, soothed. It'd been a nightmare, nothing more, nothing less. But, with his arms around her, she'd found sleep again and no dreams.

The second time it had happened, they'd been in separate cells on Ceralais. Once they'd managed to escape, he'd implied that he had heard her cry out but she had dismissed his concerns. She'd suggested that he must've heard someone else. However, she knew differently. It had happened again.

By the sixth time in as many days, she was convinced that something was wrong. There was no tangible proof beyond her feelings. Yet, instinct told her that there was more to the dream than she could understand. It had a purpose, a meaning, or, perhaps, it was a warning.

But of what?

It had always been a nightmare of sensation. She knew that there'd been some images involved but each time she thought she might've recalled something important it would fade away into a blur of gold. Only the emotions, the feelings, the sensations remained. What she remembered most was the hunger.

It'd clawed through her, a living, fiery, breathing entity brought to life by the force of its need. And underlying it all was the fear. All-consuming, ever growing, it had striven to consume her. The hunger and the fear and the need had grown so large that she knew if she hadn't woken she'd be gone.

No more Rose Tyler, just basic, primal instinct.

That was where she had always screamed and escaped the dream. Only, tonight, it was different.

She remembered a phrase that she was fairly certain had never been in the dream before. The phrase did little to calm her fears, but, instead, only amplified them. The voice that had uttered them had been hers, only magnified somehow.

"It is time," she repeated the words from the dream.

And, as if those words had been the catalyst, a massive explosion rocked the TARDIS.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no!" he protested as he frantically, desperately tried to coax a response out of the suddenly unresponsive time ship. The centre console was sparking intermittently, stinging his fingers as he frantically tried to keep the shuddering TARDIS in the Vortex and, not so coincidentally, in one piece.

The explosion had been an unexpected and unwelcome reminder of the last time his ship had been wrenched from the Vortex, through the Void, and into a parallel world. Thankfully the Vortex had not disappeared this time. So, the important question was what had just happened?

The possibilities were endless, really. Could've been that something had rammed them – though that was rather unlikely since the Time Agency's ships couldn't travel in the same relative dimension as the TARDIS. Might've passed too close to the time-space shadow of a black hole that was exactly six point seven five kren off-centre with the rest of the universe. Though that seemed too simple of an explanation. Time anomaly? No. Those tended to toss them about a bit, but something about this particular situation didn't seem to fit a temporal anomaly's typical behaviour.

Maybe…

Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong.

The Cloister Bell, he identified absently as he tried to stabilise their flight. Typical. Never rained but it poured. Especially when it came to unexplained anomalies affecting the normal operation of his ship. Another jolt managed to circumvent his previous efforts at stabilisation.

The TARDIS screamed.

"No!" he cried as he reached for another control. There had to be something else he could do. He could already feel the edges of the time-ship begin to warp from the effects of whatever had occurred. They were losing internal stability. The inner dimensions were beginning to collapse.

Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong.

Rose! Oh, no. He couldn't try to find her; his efforts were best focused upon trying to save them both. Hopefully she'd realise that something was wrong and make her way to the console room.

Unless she'd been injured in that explosion. Thrown against the wall. She could be lying, unconscious, somewhere between her room and here.

No. He was worrying himself unnecessarily. She'd be fine. Well, she would be if he could just managed to…

GONG. GONG. GONG.

Oh, no. The Cloister Bell was escalating in both tempo and in strength of the sound, meaning the danger was increasing.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, darting to the other side of the console. If he could just reverse the polarity of the…

"Doctor!" Rose said as she stumbled into the room, gripping the nearest strut to keep her balance.

"Busy!" he replied, though he allowed himself a moment of relief since she was with him. He flipped another switch. So close, so…

Then the ship began to fall. Internal gravity was lost as he felt himself lift off the floor, almost as if the ship were inside a lift.

Not again. Please, not again.

Thousands of battle TARDISes fell, in flames, from the Vortex. The dying scream of their crew echoed in his mind. It'd been the so-called end of the last great Time War. Only one TARDIS and one man survived.

But they, too, had burned.

Not again. Never again. There had to be something he could do. Something…

The sound of the bell reached a crescendo as another explosion rocked the ship. Gravity returned as the TARDIS landed with a loud and echoing thump. He found himself in a rather undignified heap on the floor, wincing from bruises and aches that hadn't been there before.

The danger wasn't over. The internal dimensions were collapsing. Rooms were being absorbed by the struggling time ship. She would rebuild, exactly as they were before, but she needed time.

Time that they no longer had.

"Rose!" He scrambled to his feet and hurried around the console toward where he'd seen her last.

She was struggling to stand, but her hand gingerly touching the back of her head revealed that she hadn't fared as well as he. "Doctor? What happened?" Her speech was slightly slurred, but there wasn't enough time to check her for a concussion.

They had to get out.

Now.

There wasn't enough time to check the sensors. Provided, of course, that the sensors even worked. He'd just have to trust that they'd landed somewhere that was fairly safe.

He could feel another room disappear. The wardrobe room was gone. It was too close to the console room.

Far, far too close.

"Hurry!" he said, reaching out to grab her hand and tugging her toward the door.

"What's-?" Rose tried again.

He interrupted her before she could finish her question. "Dimensions are collapsing. We've got to get out!"

Thankfully, she said nothing more. They hurried to the doors. Thankfully, enough of the TARDIS was still operational to allow them that particular escape. He didn't leave enough time for the doors to be fully open before he pushed Rose outside and slipped out himself. The doors slammed shut behind them. He knew that if he tried to open them now, he wouldn't be able to.

Not yet at least.

But, first things first. Find out where they were and make sure that Rose wasn't concussed.

That was when he turned around. The giant fountain loomed over them, a silver pillar reaching for the sky.

His spirits dropped even more. "Oh, great," he groused. "We're in Cardiff."

Of course it was Cardiff. Never failed, that. Her earlier fears over the dream were gone. Instead, she worried about the TARDIS. She'd only seen the Doctor look like that once before, when they were stuck in the alternate Earth with, apparently, no means of escape. The TARDIS had been dead there. Now, though, she was fine. Right? "What happened, Doctor?"

He looked distraught as he paced in front of the TARDIS, running his hand through his hair in an unconscious movement. "I'm not sure. Could've been anything, really. Something I do or don't know. But the effect's the same. The interior dimensions of the TARDIS are gone. She had to absorb them to retain her structural integrity. She's reconstructing herself now but, until she's done, we can't go back inside."

She heaved a sigh of relief. The TARDIS'd be okay. However, they were stuck in Cardiff without money, without a change of clothes, and she was still in her night outfit. Somehow, pyjamas weren't her ideal choice for an outfit to wear late in the afternoon in twenty-first century Wales. "So we're stuck. For how long?"

"Forty-eight hours," he replied absently.

Great. No, fantastic. "Okay, then we're gonna have to find a place to stay, yeah? And a change of clothes, at least for me. But 'ow're we supposed to do that without any money?"

He turned toward her, blinking in surprise. "Who says we don't have any money?"

She blinked. "You have money?" He never had before. Well, he had, but he still generally made her pay for chips when they were in her time.

"Course I have money!" he exclaimed in a rather affronted tone. "Just haven't needed to use it recently. In fact, I do have to be rather careful with what I do with it. Have to periodically invest in failing ventures to lose money, actually. If I don't, I might end up being so rich that I'll get too much attention. Happened once, actually. Wasn't too pleasant of an experience. Had to spend far too much time in ruffles." His nostalgic expression faded as he turned his attention to her.

She didn't have enough time to ask him about what had happened as he continued, "I know just the place, actually. There's a bed and breakfast just on the outskirts of Cardiff. Evelyn should…"

"Evelyn?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes. Nice woman, you'll like her. She was a professor of history that I once knew back when I had an atrocious taste in clothes."

"Ah." That certainly answered her questions. Yeah, right.

He abruptly turned his full attention to her, stepping closer until he filled her vision. Her breathing quickened as he peered into her eyes and she thought that she could just barely feel the brush of his fingers against her temple. "How're you feeling, Rose? You had a nasty bump back there. Didn't have enough time to check you for bruises or other injuries."

She was unnerved by the sudden change in topic. "'M fine," she replied. Well, she was save for the slight headache, but that was only to be expected after the jolt she'd received when they'd landed.

"Mmm," he grunted noncommittally, still staring at her. She could get lost in his eyes, she thought absently, especially when he looked at her like that. As if they were the only people in the world that mattered. He blinked, and the moment was gone.

With a wide grin, he held out his hand. "Come on, Rose. Places to go, people to see, and tea to drink! Should be fun."

Shaking her head, she took it. Why was it that whenever he said something like that she knew that it'd be anything but?

Oh, yes. Experience.

Evelyn Smythe. Oh, he hadn't seen her in years. Well, of a sort. Judging by the date on one of the newspapers, he'd last seen her about six months previously. Though that was when he was still in his sixth incarnation. Might be a bit of a shock for her to see him as he was now. Then again, it might not be. She'd spent a fair amount of time with him after all. Not much tended to surprise his former companions after that.

When they reached the street, he directed Rose to go into the nearest shop and gather whatever items she needed for the evening and the following day. They could see to further provisions tomorrow, when he'd be able to make a trip to the bank to withdraw money. For now, he had enough to get them through the night.

Rose returned shortly thereafter with two bags of shopping. "Got us the basics. Toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brushes, an' deodorant. Also picked up a change of clothes for myself an' another shirt for you jus' in case."

Ah, yes. He hadn't thought of that. "Thanks." He smiled warmly at her. After grabbing one of the bags from her, he hailed a taxi.

Much as he'd prefer to walk, the distance between Millennium Square and Evelyn's bed and breakfast was considerable. Though Evelyn had insisted that he could have a room free of charge whenever he was in the area, he didn't want to impose upon her hospitality after dark.

Traffic seemed unusually heavy as the taxi travelled through the streets of Cardiff. After ten minutes at a dead stop, he began to wonder what was wrong. The trip certainly seemed to take longer than it should. Normally, travelling from Millennium Square to Evelyn's should be approximately twenty minutes even with traffic at its heaviest.

However, before he could say anything to the driver, the man turned toward him. "Sorry about this, sir, but they're re-routing traffic again. Should have you there in about fifteen more minutes. They found another one."

He frowned. "Another one?"

"Cor, hadn't you heard? It's been on the news."

"Been out of town for a while. No telly, sadly." He shrugged slightly. "What's wrong?"

"We've got our very own Jack the Ripper, sir. Well, of a sort. The police are baffled, but I think it's gotta be cultists. Y'know, Satanists. Only explanation for the condition the bodies are found in."

Oh, now his interest was piqued. Satanists? There shouldn't be any Satanists or other type of cultists in the Cardiff area. At least not for another dozen years or so. "And what's their condition?"

The driver looked in both directions for a moment before returning his attention to him. In a hushed voice, he said, "Well, you didn't hear this from me, but my mate Reg's on the force. He says that it started with a bunch o' attacks. Always at night, always when the victim's alone. They're attacked by someone – or, sometimes, a group of someones – and they come out of it rather weak. Got two bite marks on their neck, like one of their attackers have a snake or something. Been happening for about two months or so. Only last week it changed. The attackers are killing. And this is the really weird part. Besides the snake bites, the latest bodies don't have any blood."

His fears had been growing as the description had grown more detailed. He'd thought that their kind had been destroyed, or at least weakened, during the War. If there was an active nest in Cardiff…

"Wha', you mean like vampires?" Rose asked.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far, miss. Satanists, like I said. They've got these weird rituals and stuff. Has to be Satanists." The traffic jam let up and the driver had to return his attention to the road.

She leaned over to him. "Doctor, I mean I've seen Buffy an' all. Is there such a thing as vampires?"

"'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy'," he quoted.

Rose blinked at him. "There are? You're kidding me."

He shook his head. "Not at all. And if there's an active vampire nest in this city, well, we're going to have to do something about it." If only he had access to the TARDIS. That'd make it far easier to track them, let alone be able to defeat them. No matter, maybe he could find something useful in Evelyn's larder. Garlic worked wonders, after all. Then he'd need something to fashion a stake…

"There're people out there, undead, who can't be seen in mirrors, can be killed by stakes through the heart, an' have a permanent craving for blood? Honestly?"

He nodded.

"Well," she said after a moment's thought. "I've met a werewolf an' ghosts. Only proper that I get to meet a vampire, too." Rose grinned at him and he felt an answering smile grow upon his face.

"Exactly!" he replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

The remainder of the journey to Evelyn's was spent in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. He'd have to tell her more about what to expect from vampires. Especially how faith could keep them at bay, but that could wait.

After paying the driver, he paused to regard the bed and breakfast. The last time he'd seen the place, it had been rather worn down looking, but it was obvious that Evelyn had been busy in the six months since he'd last been here. The old Victorian home was freshly painted in a pale yellow with subdued green trim. The garden had been well tended and, in a few years, he could tell that it would even give Alistair's rose garden some excellent competition.

He led Rose through the path to the front door. He raised his hand to knock, but it opened before he had a chance.

She looked older than when he'd last seen her, rather harried-looking but the ratty orange cardigan was the same as ever. She stood in the doorway and regarded both himself and Rose with a shrewd expression. "I was expecting you."

He'd thought that Evelyn wouldn't necessarily be surprised by his new appearance. However, he hadn't expected this particular reaction. He blinked. "You were?"

"Of course I was!" Evelyn snapped. "Five attacks and four deaths in the past two months? Unexplained and mysterious circumstances? That's practically your calling card, Doctor."

"Oh, well, maybe?" He still couldn't believe that she'd recognised him.

"Well, come in, then," Evelyn said, stepping back from the door. "You're in luck. Had my latest boarder disappear on me this morning, so I've got two rooms open."

"Rose Tyler, this is Evelyn Smythe. Evelyn, this is Rose. Now introductions are out of the way, how'd you recognise me?" That was still bothering him.

"Who else would it be?" Evelyn asked reasonably. "Nice to meet you, my dear. Now, the rooms are up the stairs and to the left. First two on the right, pick either one. Dinner'll be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks," Rose replied, smiling faintly. After shooting him a confused glance, she headed upstairs.

He shook his head. "Evelyn, what's going on around here?"

"I'm in favour of the vampire theory, myself," she replied. "I could do with a nice cup of hot cocoa. Would you like some, Doctor? And then we can swap our stories. I'm sure you've got a few to share yourself. Especially since the last time I saw you, you were still the Doctor that I remember."

He smiled fondly. "How could I resist your famous hot cocoa?"

She smiled and led him to the kitchen. "Precisely."

An hour and a half, four cups of hot cocoa, dinner, and a much-shortened tale of how he'd come to his tenth incarnation later, he turned toward his former companion. "So what do you know about these attacks, Evelyn?"

"Oh," she said, folding her hands over the empty plate as she regarded the two of them. "Started about a month or two ago. Young girl was walking home from class when she was attacked by what she thought was a gang. She later reported that she felt as if the group of youths didn't care about how she reacted to them – almost as if they considered her beneath them. The police reported that the only injury she received from the attack were two strange puncture marks on her neck. Right about here," she demonstrated with a hand, pointing at the point just above her jugular vein.

"Happened again a week later. Only, that time, it was two victims. The next week, another one. The strange thing is that about two or three days after the initial attack, all of the victims disappeared. Then the deaths started. All drained of blood, most victims were out late at night by themselves, no witnesses. Last night there were two victims, only this time they were attacked at home. One of those victims is dead, just like the others."

"An' the police have no leads?" Rose asked.

Evelyn shook her head. "Not that I've heard of. I'm lucky I know as much as I do, actually. The local police think me as something of a nosy body. They humour me, but little else."

"Right. Then tomorrow morning, bright and early, Rose and I'll visit the local precinct. From there, we'll find the latest victim's home. What you've described indicates that we're dealing with relatively young vampires. They're drawing attention to themselves, and that's something they tended to avoid." He was about to add Evelyn's task when she shook her head.

"Sorry, Doctor. Not this time. You two'll have to do your investigations without me. My niece is in town, but she's not feeling too well. I need to keep an eye on her for the next few days." She didn't elaborate, but she didn't have to.

Evelyn's niece was the latest victim.

The dream started as it always did: with fear.

Mind-numbing, all-encompassing, heart-pounding terror filled her. She was asleep, but she wasn't. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She was alone – the antique mirror at the other side of the room told her as such – but her eyes told her a different story.

There was a man, a boy really, leaning over her. His bright blue eyes seemed to glow with an unearthly light in the semi-darkness. His hand gripped one of the posts at the top of the bed, flexing against the grain of the wood.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

The boy smiled and the separation of his lips revealed the fine points of two elongated teeth. Vampire, she identified, trying to struggle.

Her body refused all commands. She couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't call for the Doctor. Her heart pounded against her chest. She was going to die. Not by choice, but by fate.

The dream…

The dream! She opened her eyes and stared, unseeing, at the canopy above her. It'd been nothing more than the dream. She was safe. The Doctor was in the room next to her. She was fine. Nothing was wrong. Feeling her heart slow its frantic beating as the terror faded, she glanced at the foot of the bed.

In the dim light, the antique mirror revealed little, but enough to know that she was alone.

That was when a hand – a hand that shouldn't exist – covered her mouth, muffling her gasp of shock.

A boy – the same one from her dream – leaned over her, grinning. "Wouldn't want any uninvited guests, now would we?"

Doctor! Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor! she screamed in her mind, hoping against hope that he could hear.

The boy dipped his head to her neck, his hand tilting her head to provide the best angle.

No! Please, no. No, no, no, no. This would hurt, she decided in a frighteningly calm part of her mind. There would be no rescue. She was going to die.

Two injection points pierced her skin.

Sensations gained a strange clarity. She could feel him licking her skin, the blood leaving her body. She could hear him suckling at her neck, strange slurping noises that should've sent another pang of terror through her, but she felt oddly numb.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he pulled away from her. Smiling at her, she could see the red of her blood coating his lips. She still couldn't scream.

"This'll be our little secret, right? You're now one of us." With another smile, the boy walked to the window – the open window – and flew – he flew! - out of the room.

She pressed her hand to her throat, feeling the puckered remains of the puncture wounds. It was still the dream, she decided. It couldn't be real. She wasn't just bitten by a vampire. She was fine. She was safe. The Doctor was in the next room.

She fell into a fitful sleep, comforting herself that it'd just been a dream.

And, in the deepest part of her slumbering mind, something golden stirred.

To be continued...