A Story of Reese & Sam

Note: This is the first story I wrote about Reese & Sam, while I was still exploring them as characters. This story is non-canonical with The Summoning Fire. That is, if it did happen, it might not have gone down exactly this way. And you'll notice the Old Man, and their relationship with him, is still evolving. Enjoy!
 
Reese Makes a Deal
by David Michael
 
There was only one way to kill a vampire quickly: grind it into hamburger. Reese did the next best thing. She emptied the magazine of her 12 gauge pump-action shotgun into the thing's chest and head.
 
She paused only long enough to take two deep, gasping breaths. Then she stepped back to reload, pushing shells into the tube magazine and looking over at Sam to see how the other woman was doing.
 
Sam sat, leaning against the wall where the vampire had thrown her, looking dazed.
 
"You still with me?" Reese asked.
 
Sam shook her head, blinked a few times. "Maybe," she said.
 
Reese pumped a shell into the chamber, pushed another shell into the magazine to keep it full. Then she let the shotgun dangle from its shoulder strap as she picked up her nine millimeter semi-auto from the floor where she had dropped it.
 
She popped out the clip, counted only six rounds. She pushed the clip into her pocket and pulled out a full one to replace it. Then she unscrewed the silencer from the barrel, put it away as well. After nine shots, it was spent. And after five blasts from the shotgun, there wasn't anyone within a quarter mile who didn't know she and Sam were around.
 
Before Reese took up the shotgun she had considered herself a finesse operator. Surgical in her precision, if she did say so herself. She only accepted the vintage Winchester Model 12 because the Old Man insisted. But the old gun had taught her the true meaning of "one shot, one kill." And it had just saved her cute little ass for about the fifth time.
 
Five shots from the Glock 17 nine mil had barely slowed down the vampire. The same number from the shotgun had reduced it to goo.
 
Reese put the pistol back in her waistband and hefted the shotgun. Even with the stock cut down to a pistol grip and the barrel sawed off to the same length as the tube magazine, the Model 12 was a bulky weapon. The Old Man gave it to her to do a job. Not this job. And maybe he wanted his toy back. But he would have to pry it from her cold, dead fingers. Something he was probably looking forward to.
 
"A family heirloom," the Old Man had called it. "And the best damn shotgun ever made."
 
Maybe, someday, Reese would finish that other job. And/or tell the Old Man she was through working for him. Or maybe he would catch up with them and kill her and Sam slowly and painfully as a form of discipline before he re-animated them and sent them out again.
 
Sam stood up and collected her toadsticker. Another toy from the Old Man's arsenal, even older than the Model 12, the katana seemed to have been forged from pure midnight. Its black blade reflected no light and its edge was all but invisible. It had pierced the vampire's chest cavity effortlessly. And if the beast had had a pumping heart, that might've mattered.
 
"Check your clips," Reese said.
 
"I haven't fired either gun," Sam replied. She didn't sheath the sword, just stood there looking dangerous. And sexy. "I was under the impression that we were trying to be sneaky."
 
"Yeah, well. Sneaky wasn't working. How's your head?" Reese gave Sam a thorough visual scan, looking for injuries. And, well, just looking.
 
"Still attached. How do I look?"
 
Reese didn't answer. Sam knew she looked good. Instead Reese turned to consider the door that led down to the cellar. The little girl, Anya, must be down there. The rest of the building was–now–unoccupied by the living. And the dead things they had encountered were all dead once again. "You want to try to sneak in?"
 
"I'm pretty sure they know we're here."
 
"So, blast the door down and charge in?"
 
Sam sighed. "Maybe there's a middle ground?"
 
"How's this?" Reese asked. With the shotgun's pistol grip in her right hand, barrel level, she stepped to the side of the door.
 
Sam took a sliding step to get out of line with the door as Reese opened it with her left hand.
 
The door swung open smoothly, silently.
 
Nothing came out of the door at them for a full minute.
 
Reese nodded at Sam, and the other woman crouched down in front of Reese and peeked a look, her head at the level of Reese's knees.
 
Sam sighed again and stood up. "As I expected, they know we're here."
 
"And…?"
 
Sam flexed her arms, legs and neck to limber them, the katana moving with her like a part of her body. "And so," she said when she had finished, "we might as well just go down and talk to them." With that she walked through the door.
 
Reese hefted the shotgun in both hands now, ready to start pumping out lead the way only a Model 12 could, and followed Sam.
 
The bad guys in the cellar waited for them. The big one in front was a real ogre, standing at least eight feet tall, nude, hairy all over and dangling enough manhood to frighten off a choir of angels–or convince them to fall. He also dangled Anya, clutching the little girl by her hair, holding her in front of him like a small, white, innocent shield. His other hand held a curved sword that probably weighed as much as Reese. The point of the sword hovered near Anya's neck. Anya didn't seem to be conscious, but she didn't seem to be harmed either.
 
Behind the big guy, arranged in a loose vee, were smaller, human-sized former humans. At least a couple of them showed the traits of vampirism. And the rest looked even meaner.
 
"How many," the big one growled, his deep chest adding near-sub-sonic resonance, "of my children have you killed?"
 
Reese shrugged. "How many were upstairs?"
 
The big one growled again, this time without words. The point of the sword moved closer to Anya's neck.
 
Sam shifted her stance, and Reese did too, pointing the shotgun at the nearest of the "children", who were also adopting battle-ready postures.
 
Reese's mind raced. At an optimistic four shots per vampire, she figured she had enough ammunition for about half the henchmen. And now that Sam knew they were fighting vampires in addition to other unpleasantness, she could use that katana to better effect.
 
But–and there were some serious "buts" to consider.
 
Reese doubted the crowd of bad guys would let her take the time to reload the shotgun. The Glock had proven only marginally useful against the vampire before and would likely only piss off the big guy even more than he already was. And Sam had to get up close and personal to use that sword. None of these circumstance weighed in their favor.
 
"Maybe," Reese said, licking her suddenly dry lips, "we can make a deal."
 
Slight surprise showed on the ogre's big face. "A deal?"
 
"Sure," Reese said, wondering what in the hell she or Sam had to offer that might be even tempting. "A deal. We just want the girl."
 
The ogre considered this for a few seconds. "What do you have that I might want?"
 
Sam cast a glance over her shoulder at Reese, obviously wondering the same thing.
 
For a brief instant, Reese considered offering Sam's sword. That had to be worth a fortune. Several fortunes. For a briefer instant, she thought about offering the Model 12. Not as pricey as the sword, nor as rare, but still a damn fine weapon. But giving up their weapons seemed stupid. And suicidal. Besides, the two of them had both grown attached to the Old Man's toys.
 
For a somewhat longer instant, Reese wished the Old Man was here. So far gone into the Pits of Hell that he had grown both horns and a tail, the Old Man could have eaten the ogre for lunch–and kept the leftovers for sandwiches later in the week. Except Reese and Sam had crossed the Old Man and he would focus on them first, ogre second, probably munching on little Anya as he considered how to best punish the lot of them.
 
"Well?" the ogre rumbled.
 
"Keep your shirt on," Reese said. "I'm taking inventory."
 
The ogre growled, causing the glass in the cellar windows to rattle.
 
Then Reese remembered the badge, or whatever it was. Against Sam's better judgment, Reese had pried the badge out of a dead man's flesh and been carrying it around ever since. She didn't know what the symbol on the octagonal hunk of metal meant, with its sinuous tendrils and three burning eyes, but it seemed important. She had glimpsed a similar symbol once, on some papers on the Old Man's desk.
 
Maybe it was just a hunk of metal with a fancy symbol. Maybe it was more. Reese had no way to know, and hadn't had time in the ensuing weeks to study it. And maybe, just maybe, she could con this big ogre into swapping it for the girl.
 
"OK," Reese said. "I'm going to reach into my jacket–very slowly–with my left hand. And I'm going to pull out something I think you're going to want."
 
The ogre, his henchmen, and Sam all tensed as Reese took the badge from her pocket. It seemed heavier now, and colder.
 
When she had the badge out, she turned it around slowly to show the symbol.
 
The ogre took a very audible breath, and his henchmen openly stared.
 
"Deal," the ogre said. He tossed Anya at Sam, who had to drop her sword to catch the little girl without impaling her. The edge of the sword dug out a groove in the floor.
 
Reese, trying not to wonder what she had just agreed to give away, waited until Sam held the girl in a fireman's carry and picked up her sword. Then Reese stepped in front of Sam. She flung the badge with a flick of her wrist, like a Frisbee. The ogre caught it easily.
 
"Go," Reese said. "Now."
 
They backed up the stairs and out of the cellar. Reese watched the ogre open his huge hand, with the badge resting in his palm. With his other hand he seemed to be making gestures as he muttered in a low baritone. His henchmen no longer looked at Sam and Reese. They gathered around the ogre.
 
Sam and Reese stopped worrying about pursuit and ran as fast as they could back to their "borrowed" car. They laid Anya in the back seat and roared away into the night.
 
"I can't believe you made a deal with those … things," Sam said.
 
Reese shrugged. "We were outmatched. I want to go down swinging, just like you," she added, "but not over someone else's kid. This was just a job."
 
"I can't believe they traded her for that badge."
 
"Yeah," Reese said. "I wonder what it was?"
 
"I wonder what else we could've got for it."
 
"You're such a mercenary bitch," Reese said. She reached over and squeezed Sam's leg. "That's what I love about you."
 
Sam put her hand on Reese's.
 
They drove the rest of the way back to Anya's worried, waiting parents in silence. Then they took their money and got the hell out of town, before Hell could catch up with them there.