Thankfully, Sam was a planner. He organised and planned for many events, even when hunting. In fact, he was kind of known as the "soccer mom" of hunters because he was always so stocked with supplied. Hell, he was prepared for the damn apocalypse. One thing he wasn't prepared for, however, was a snow storm.
"We're expected at least another foot and a half of snow." the weatherman announced brightly, gesturing to a map.
"Great." Dean groaned. "Just what we need. Your turn." He nodded towards the deck of cards on the Sorry! game board. Sam retrieved a card and sighed. "Backwards four. Did you say we needed a one or a two to get out of 'home'?"
"Yeah, it says right here." Dean was clearly holding the instructions upside down. Sam clucked his tongue. "Dean, this is so boring. Call Cas and tell him to come play with us."
"You call Cas."
"Fine. Cas, please come play Sorry! with us."
They waited for an answer or a sign. "Nope. Nothing. Dean, you pray to him. He listens to you."
"Uh, okay. Cas, please get your feathers untangled and get your ass down here."
Castiel suddenly appeared, sitting on Dean's lap. "C-Cas!" he stammered. "Warn a guy, would you?"
Sam laughed. "Here, Cas, you can be yellow. We're playing Sorry!."
The angel nodded. "It's okay, although apologies aren't necessary; I don't know what you are playing."
Both brothers grinned stupidly. "Cas, your turn."