RUTHLESS GAME

Rhonda Hurley

Katie's POV

The first thing I realize once I slowly regain consciousness is the banging inside my head.

My eyes still closed, I reach up to the back of my head, where the pain seems to emerge from. When my hand touches something wet, my eyes immediately open widely. Not even a second later everything comes rushing back to me.

"Mornin' sunshine", someone says next to me and I don't even need to turn my head to know who that is. Asshole.

I want to answer something sassy and badass, but I can't concentrate on forming a coherent sentence, when I'm still too overwhelmed with everything that's happening around me.

"Alles in Ordnung bei dir?" (Are you alright?)

Hearing my best friend's voice calms me and I slowly get myself to sit in a more upright position. That's when I realize that I'm currently on a bed. A motel bed. Oh, great. These guys are psychos.

Hot psychos, but psychos nonetheless.

"Alles gut, mein Kopf tut nur wirklich weh. Haben sie uns ernsthaft bewusstlos geschlagen? Wie geht es dir?", I'm rambling a bit, but at the moment I really don't care. Oh, and I'm not going to give these bastards anything. They don't understand German? Too fucking bad for them, because I will surely not give them anything to work with. (It's fine, just my head hurting. Did they actually knock us out? How are you?)

"Mein Kopf schmerzt auch... Und ja, haben sie. Weißt du, irgendwie habe ich sie mir wirklich anders vorgestellt." (My head is hurting as well... And yeah they did. You know, I really imagined them diffenrently.)

"Besser", I correct her, "Besser vorgestellt." (Better [...] Imagined them better.)

I turn my head to see Dean and Sam with open mouths, intrigued by what's happening in front of them. Did they expect us to scream? To beg for our lives? As if we're giving in to them that easily. Okay, maybe that's the adrenaline speaking, because they could surely kill us in an instant, but I am just too damn mad about the whole thing. I loved Dean Winchester. And now I'm utterly disappointed. The worst thing about the whole situation?

He looks even better in reality than he does on TV. That bastard.

Our silence obviously made something snap inside him, because he's suddenly out of his trance-like state.

"Alright, girls, why don't you take it from the beginning", he sounds gruff.

"Sie haben uns nicht gefesselt", I realize and look over at Soph, who has a devilish expression on her face, "Das werden sie bestimmt bereuen." (They didn't cuff us. [...] They're gonna regret that one.)

"An was denkst du?" (What are you thinking?)

"Hmm... Wir bräuchten-" I'm interrupted by Sam. (We'd need...)

"In English, please", Sam adds with an amused smile on his face. Oh, he thinks we're entertaining them?

Soph quirks an eyebrow at that: "Wir sagen kein Wort in Englisch, richtig?"
"Offensichtlich. Weißt du was, am besten sagen wir erstmal gar nichts mehr." (We're not saying a word in english, right? [...] Obviously. You know, let's just stop talking altogether.)

We share a smirk, before we simultaneously look at the brothers, both sitting on chairs in front of the beds. We're downright staring, trying to tell them – without words – than they can go fuck themselves.

"Oh, Sam, I don't think they're going to talk – This is going to be fun."

I suppress the urge to look at my best friend in fear.