This call would definitely seal his fate.
No matter, how this would turn out they'd see him a traitor and either leave him to the cruel experiments of mankind or eliminate him themselves. Basically, he had nothing to lose anymore. Expect for his best friend, who he was determined to save.
Hell or better said demons were always open for trades as long as they were in their favor, one-sided and contained the suffering of their victim. Fortunately, he could serve them with all these things at the appropriate time. For once they'd be pleased, that he was asking for a favor. At least he didn't have to humiliate himself and beg them to answer his call, like that archangel wanker.
After he had taken a deep breath, he let his life expire inside of his head one more time. Damn, after the 14th century his existence really had taken a very pleasant turn. All these temptations, guilty pleasures, and other abominations. He had been a master of his trade. Actually, his life had been quite fulfilling, he thought.
Then a picture flashed up in front of his eyes. A prominent smile. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Brown orbs filled with so much love and hope. Flawless teeth, perfect lips, sweet wrinkles around the edges of his mouth... He sighed this was the point of no return. He had to be honest with himself now...
Otherwise, his damned soul would never make peace with the fading of his existence. Those lips he had always desired to kiss. To taste. To feel. If he was honest, he would know it all along. A few decades after the fall of the roman empire he had realized it... He had lost his heart to that angel. To a bloody angel.
Of course, he would have never admitted that... At the beginning he didn't even want to believe it himself. He had convinced himself, that those feelings would vanish over the years. However here he was, being the one to blame for the... the most precious soul on this entire planted -no, the entire universe- had fallen into heaven's disgrace. Also got tortured by those maniac megalomaniacs.
He felt like losing his mind. To be honest he wasn't sure if his sanity even existed anymore. A despaired, high-pitched chuckle slipped from his bruised lips. The burning hate towards all higher instances boiled up inside of him. It was all their fault!
Their eternal quarrel about who was more powerful had already demanded thousands of souls... But this time? This time they had gone too far. An angry hiss slipped from his lips... He was pretty sure he wouldn't make it out of here alive.
However, if he miraculously survived, he'd choose their side. Aziraphale's and his side. Then he'd make them pay... The thought of revenge soothed him a little. Dumb fantasies. They wouldn't save him anyway.
For a few bitter-sweet seconds, he allowed himself to indulge in memories... Memories of the better days. Back then, when he didn't have to worry about the state of his angel, because he had known they would always be the constant in each other's lives. Their dinners. That soft, slightly intimidated smile, he had flashed him whenever they had gotten closer to each other. His angelic voice, "forgiving" him everything he had ever done. This time... This time he wouldn't forgive him.
Crowley didn't want to be forgiven.
A few more tears streamed down his cheeks, when he remembered Aziraphale calling him "my dear." That was true. He had always been his dearest and longest friend, still the demon had never managed to call him by another nickname than "Angel". In his eyes he had always been the only true angel, in this damned hellhole they called the universe.
His head hit the wooden floor painfully, when they drove over another bump on the street. The pain shot through his body, challenging his bruised nerves. The shock enabled him to pull himself together. Right focus. "Laudate dominus tenebris, et in tenebris copias, ut audiat" (Praise the dark emperor, may the forces of darkness hear me!)" he hissed as clearly as he could.
It didn't take longer than a few seconds, when the Hastur's annoyed voice echoed through his head.
"What the hell is it Crowley?" Never before had Crowley been so happy to hear that bastard's voice.
"Hastur! I..." he didn't know what to say at first.
"What? Usually, you don't have a problem talking either, flashy bastard. Did you mess up something?" he asked full of anticipation.
For a second Crowley wanted to directly hang up again, but he took a deep breath. Pride was misplaced here. After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his throat. "Kind... of." He admitted embarrassed.
Immediately, he felt the prong break from his crown as soon as he had confessed this. His colleague escaped a high-pitched, malicious snicker. "Oh, oh, oh Crowley what is it?" he asked excitedly, barely able to contain his gloating.
"Okay. It's enough now, you retarded, old-fashioned bastard." He hissed back, obviously angry now. "I have underestimated the humans. They lured me into a trap. I am currently tied up in the back of a van." He started explaining his situation, but he only earned an even louder laugh.
"Enslaved by humans. The great Crowley!!" Hastur sounded like he was about to go insane.
"SSSSHUT IT!" the ginger ordered strictly. Who knew when they'd arrive at their destination, he was running out of time!
"Alright, Alright. So, what do you want? Want me to come over and save your arrogant ass?" the older demon asked, still interrupted by snickers.
"Actually... No." Crowley admitted, taking a deep breath. This was harder than he had thought. The constant aching inside of his chest reminded him of the importance of his actions.
"What? What else do you want?" Hastur bluffed surprised.
"Mankind has found out about our existence they are aware of the fact that demons and also angels exist. That's not the worst part. They have captured Aziraphale and me, for using our powers for winning this war. And... It's all my fault." He began but got interrupted again.
"WHAT?! How could this happen? For Satan's sake! Crowley you're dead meat to us! This is more than a failure. Why don't you miracle your ass out oft here, so we can give you the necessary punishment. How did they even capture you?" he hissed into the phone, still full of joy.
"I can't they have used divine powers to block my abilities. However, listen to me now. I know I am dead meat." Crowley replied, slightly beginning to worry. "You need to stop them from gaining to much power. Please free the angel from their force! We can't risk that they have divine power up their sleeves or even turning it against us!" he begged, sounding almost despaired.
"Who cares about that bloody angel? Be glad, he's gone. Also, he's definitely not our department. You sound like a nasty traitor." Hastur denied his beg, sounding disgusted to the bone.
Crowley took a deep breath, who had thought sealing one's own fate was that difficult? "How stupid can an immortal creature be? Obviously, the upper department isn't going to save him. So, we are weakened, since nobody stops the Nazis from gaining holy powers. They have already enslaved me!" he contradicted, trying to sound annoyed again. "I don't care if I get blamed for this. Hastur get him out of there. NOW!" he ordered strictly.
Immediately all the snickering, also joy died down on the other side of the phone. "Crowley... You are not in the position to give anyone orders here. Your sacrifice to save this damned angel is definitely treason." He stated angrily.
"Let it be treason. I don't care. I can offer you a deal. Get him out of there. Leave me to them, or you can bath my head in a pool of holy water yourself but get him out of there. You will never be forced to see my face again. Hear my voice. You even could take my place up here. Come on Hastur. You'd give your right arm for my position! The principalities would love you. Hastur the great defeater of mankind!" he tried convincing him. To his disappointment he only earned another manic laugh
"Forget it. I will not save anyone. This problem, your problem, will solve itself. You are a traitor Crowley. I always knew it. And now? You will get the punishment for that. You and that disgusting angel. Enjoy your last days on earth. I hope they are painful." With these words the Duke of hell hung up
"NO! NO!" Crowley yelled after him, but only silence remained. The line was dead. Pure rage took control now, causing him to rip onto his ties in a tantrum. He struggled against the restraints, while he swore and screamed like a maniac. Unfortunately, his body wasn't in the condition to keep up with that energy level. As a result, he passed out once again.
The cover was pulled down from the cage, flooding it with burning sunlight. It banished the darkness, which had comforted the worn-out demon for the last hours of his transport. A metallic rattling followed, while the two soldiers undid the chains around the cage, they had attached rosaries to it. While the guards were working, general Strauß stood there, admiring his newest achievement.
Crowley's body was too weak to fight back. They detached the chains from the bottom of the cage, but he didn't stay up. Instead, they had to pull him out, making his back land on the cold ground. Finally, his perception worked again. After a few dizzy blinks, his serpent eyes adjusted to the daylight.
"Aufstehen!" (Get up!) one of the guards ordered, pulling on his collar, as if he was a dog. At first it choked him, then burnt his flesh, causing him to groan in pain. Actually, his muscles refused to work, but he forced them to stay up. There was only one option left. Managing to escape somehow. With Aziraphale.
His lowered head rose up, for scanning their surroundings. Finally, he knew why the streets had been so bumpy all the way. The stood on top of a mountain. The area was bordered by a meter-high barbed wire fence, with gun turrets in between. They were enthroned threateningly above everything and their windows stared down at the small camp like falcon-eyes. Not even a mouse could have run across the huge open place in the middle without being noticed by them.
To his surprise they weren't any other prisoners here. No barracks. Only three plainly built, box-shaped, grey concrete blocks with high chimneys. All of them had barred windows, blocking out almost every sunray, also every spark of hope. The entire place had a deadly aura. This camp stunk off despair, fear, and death... Not a surprise.
The gravel under their feet crunched, while they approached one of the buildings. In front of it stood four guards, with machine guns. This had to be the place, where they'd hold them hostage. Crowley nearly fell to the ground. Every step felt like as if there were anvils tied to his angles. Still he kept stumbling after the general in front of him.
Damn, how much he despised that man.
They passed by two other buildings, one of the was slightly taller. The inconspicuousness was almost frightening. There they had to do their disgusting experiments; he was sure. The smell of blood nestled in his nose, proving his suspicion.
All of sudden a different smell tickled his nose. His eyes widened. Without noticing it, he ripped onto the chains, while turning towards the building. The smell off lavender, incense and... and old books. His guts cringed. Aziraphale. They kept him there. He wanted to run. To rip that door open and save him...
"Weitergehen!" (Move!) the guard ordered strictly, ripping onto the collar, so he was struggling after them again.
"I will help you my friend..." he whispered silently. A loud growl left his lips, when they opened the door of his "new home."
Inside everything was dark. However, his night vision didn't do him a favor here. The walls were covered in white tiles, easy to clean.Nevertheless, they were stained with blood... He knew whose blood this was... His nausea intensified.
In front of him laid two cells both of their bars different. One metal had a slightly darker shade while the other one was completely silver. The room was soaked in the smell of fear and despair. On top of that with Aziraphale's smell. Barely any torture could have been worse. "Where is he?!" he yelled at Strauß, slowly losing the last rest of self-control.
"He's currently receiving his daily treatment. Don't be jealous, tomorrow you will get it as well." The general replied with a sadistic smirk.
"Let him go! We had a deal!" Crowley demanded, shooting forward, but the guards hit his back with their clubs his legs gave out. He hit the cold, tiled floor with a loud groan.
"Plans have changed, we won't set any of you free." Adolf Strauß announced with a vicious chuckle. "But don't worry, you soon will feel at home." He promised him his voice soaked in sadism
"You bastard... you... lying wanker... I swear to Satan if I ever get out of here..." Crowley started threatening him. Suddenly, they grabbed his legs and threw him into the cell with the lighter bars. The impact on the wall made his spine dug into his lungs, he gasped for air.
"Good night Mr. Crowley." Strauß wished him, before slamming the door shut, leaving him to the darkness of the room and his own mind.