Disclaimer

I do not own Hellsing or its characters. Wish I could own Hans and Pip though...

Any who here we go.

Hans didn't expect her to beat him. He didn't expect to be free. Another war was another war. Nothing more, nothing less. It was a beautiful attempt to die. An attempt to slip into the blissful escape that is Hell. A warriors death is the only way to go after all. Go big or go home. She came at the perfect time. Her golden hair shining in the firelight of the ruined city, her blood-red uniform ripped and torn from battle, her pale skin glistened with sweat and smeared with the blood of her enemies, her face set with determination and a malicious gleam in her eyes. She was a beautiful archangel of death. She was a wonderful dream in all her horrific glory. Vampire. Hans almost cried at the thought of death at her hands. Such a glorious death that would be. A death he would be proud to call his own.

As the fight progressed she seemed less of an angel of death and more like a child who just came in to her own. Her familiar, the french man, her only redeeming hand. She left herself open far too much, and her strength, while supernatural, was far less than his own. Perhaps she needed a little help killing him. Disgusted by the thought that he might live on forever, he decided to give her the tool of his demise. Taking the fight to the treasure room was a last-ditch hope that maybe he could die in peace. Nothing seemed to be going right. This was not how it was supposed to be.

When he quite literally handed her the silver tooth he was somewhat disappointed. She was clearly not the right choice. Though death was welcome, it was not something he was willing to just roll over and let happen. If she wanted to kill him she was at least going to have to work for it. She was doing well for herself for a little while. Holding her own as it were. The missile was a nice touch too. But he was growing tired of this. She would have to make her final move soon or he would just end her here and now. When she threw the first punch he could feel the determination radiating off her body. This was it. Her final plan. Now his arms were shattered, and he is happy, but not happy enough. The pain is blinding, but he still tries to kick. She catches his leg in her jaws and he feels her suck just a bit of blood. His life force now inside her. It's a strange feeling, his soul leaving his body to be joined with hers. Sort of satisfying. What really catches his attention though is the gleam of metal and the corporeal form of the Frenchman taking shape. He feels the pain for only a second and then a moment later he realizes. This is it. His death.

This small girl and her familiar have set him up for the final blow, and he couldn't be happier. Nothing could make him happier than this moment. As he catches on fire he smiles. It's the first genuine smile he's had in over a century. Nothing could feel as lovely as this bliss. He looks upon his angel one last time to see her french lover flipping him off. Hn. What a beautiful creäture and what a coarse man. A perfect end to a too long life. This must be bliss.

AN So what do you guys think? I'm thinking of just leaving this as a one shot but I kind of want to make this a longer story. I'm not too great at long stories, but I'm willing to give it a shot.

Until next time!