Castiel sighed as he walked slowly through the forest, clutching a bouquet of flowers tightly to his chest. He didn't know what had possessed him to come out here in the first place. It wasn't like he had any reason he would want to be out in the middle of nowhere. He had better things to be doing up in Heaven, and yet here he was.
Finally, he reached a clearing in the woods. A slight breeze tugged at his clothes, ruffling his hair as he walked through the tall, dry grass, towards the center of the small area. The sky loomed grey over him. A storm was coming.
He stood before the shabby wooden cross stabbed into the dirt, jutting out crookedly above the ground, hardly fit to be called a grave, barely recognizable as a cross at all. He absentmindedly twirled the flowers in his hands, suddenly feeling very awkward as he cleared his throat.
"I guess it's a human tradition to bring flowers to a grave, so... uh, that's what I did. I don't know why they do it. They just do I guess," he said out loud, placing the bouquet on the ground in front of the grave marker. The world was silent around him, save for the rustling of leaves on the trees around him. He sighed, looking down sadly.
"Look, Dean Winchester, I didn't know you, and I know you don't know me. But very soon, you will, so I thought I'd introduce myself. I'm Castiel, and I swear on the word of my Father, I will save you. You have my word," he stated, his face set in grim determination. He knelt down, sitting with the idea of Dean, sitting in silence, for hours not uttering a word. It was peaceful and calm. He didn't feel stupid for being there. It was more like he was making a new friend, getting acquainted with someone who would one day mean the world to him.
For months he would visit, protecting the resting place of his friend, talking to him for hours. And months later, he would fly down into Hell, carefully carrying a beaten and bloody, unconscious Dean Winchester, uttering two words to the man he felt he'd known for years.