Angel with a shotgun (Phan)

Prologue

So this is my new story! I'm super excited about it and I hope you like it too. The prologue and then the first chapter are being uploaded now so you don't just have to stop readings straight after Phil um... Yeah. Anyway enjoy it!

"Phil! Where the fuck are you?" Dan screamed as bullets flew overhead, hunched over behind the debris of a broken house. He should keep his head down, keep his cover by staying quiet in the remains of the home, keep safe- but Phil wasn't beside him. And really? Dan couldn't survive without him. He was his main priority now.

"Phil!" Dan yelled and then froze, the sounds of screams and shotgun fire ceasing as heavy footsteps pounded past and Dan pressed himself to the floor, as close to the remains of a table as he could get until the marching passed and he slowly raised himself up.

"Phil," he hissed again in case anyone was near by still. Nothing, and Dan's heart was still pounding. "Phil, please."

He got up, pulling his gun from his pocket and holding it in defence, ready to start moving as he wasn't leaving until he had Phil back.

"Goddammit Phil please." Dan muttered and he heard a small cough and a whimper come from his right. He span around but it wasn't Phil, just someone losing too much blood and their hand curled around a photo.

Dan walked over to them- oh, they were on the other side. Oh well.

Dan crouched beside them and they opened their eyes a fraction.

"Hey," Dan said softly. "Don't worry I won't hurt you, is there anything I can do to help?" Dan asked, placing a hand over the man's slowly seeping wound and applying pressure. Both men knew he was going to die, but Dan wanted him to at least leave with some hope left in his heart.

"No," he whispered.

"Are they your family?" Dan asked and then man grunted a yes.

"I hope they're okay," he whispered. "I wish I could see them again," he rasped, and Dan applied a little more pressure.

"You can, when their times come as well. You might just have to wait a while," Dan told him and the man's lips curled upwards.

"I hope that's not soon," He said and Dan nodded.

"Me too. But I bet right now they are safe and sound, and that's what counts. And they love you. You've done so well," Dan told him and the man grunted again.

"Thank you." The man whispered, and then Dan didn't feel the rise of his chest anymore.

He moved his hand away and managed to heave off a large piece of wood that one of his arms had been trapped under and laid it beside his body softly, placing the hand with the bloody photograph clutched in it over his heart and shutting his eyes.

"I hope you get the afterlife you deserve." Dan told him before standing up again, looking around. If only Dan believed that too.

It really was deserted around here, and he still needed to find Phil. If he didn't, he would never forgive himself. Of course he'd feel relieved if he went back and saw him safe, would run up and hug him and tell him that he was stupid for leaving him and that he was so happy he was alive. But if he did that, and Phil had needed help, still been out here, then he would really never forgive himself.

'Retrace your steps'. That's what Phil always said. So Dan guessed it was time to go backwards, past fresh dead bodies and broken hearts. What a joy war was.

Wiping his blood stained hands roughly on his trousers, he picked his way through the street, gun still raised but it was silent, only the sound of distant yells and his feet crunching on broken glass and wood.