Crowley Doctor

The TARDIS hummed quietly in the dark, like a sleeping beast beneath layers of time and circuitry. Its coral-like walls cast shadows that flickered and shifted, lit only by the low red glow of the central column. The console room was colder than usual unnaturally so as if the ship itself was holding its breath.

Crowley sat slouched in the pilot's chair, boot resting on the edge of the console, swirling a glass of something thick and crimson in his gloved hand. He hadn't moved for hours. Time outside had grown... unstable. Entire decades vanishing from memory, stars blinking out and reappearing in different constellations. Which wasn't a good sign when you know every dot in this universe, but as everyone knows, its expanding and its easy to remember the thing you created but not what comes after them. Stars die, birth, explode and, doing so, make new ones. Even a star maker can be surprised sometimes, but that was the past. Now he's just a guest. A special one tho!

Someone or something was rewriting the timeline from within, and Crowley could feel it clawing at the edges of his mind. Not even the TARDIS was immune. She'd (cause It must be a She!) been twitchy lately. Restless. Like she knew what was coming and was afraid to show him.

The vampire in him, the demonic part as to say, the ancient part thrived on the chaos. He made It, how can't he be attracted to It? Anyway It stirred hunger and instinct he usually kept buried beneath sarcasm and sunglasses. But the Time Lord in him? That part knew better. That part remembered Gallifrey, and the laws they broke just to keep time from unraveling. He tilted his head, listening. Voices. No echoes. Stray fragments of conversations that hadn't happened yet. Or had. Or might.

Maybe he's getting crazy, like, totally out of his head. Sometimes he screams at his plants but even the stars have flaws.

He stood, coat brushing the floor, and approached the console.