15. Fighting the shadows

James sat in the Impala, the steady sound of the engine making the silence inside feel heavier. It had been three days since the fire, and while his injuries were healing—he wasn't in pain anymore—he still felt stiff. The adrenaline had worn off, and now his mind was left to deal with everything that had happened. Sitting still wasn't helping, not when everything he knew was destroyed just down the street. He needed to get out of the car and clear his head.

With a sigh, James opened the door and stepped out. The cool night air hit his face, and for a moment, he felt a little better. He glanced at his house in the distance. The sight made his heart hurt. It was so different now—ruined by the fire. The yellow police tape fluttered in the wind, marking the destruction. It felt like a part of him had been torn away with the house.

He took a few steps away from the car, his eyes locked on the house. It was hard to look at it. The roof was half-collapsed, the walls blackened. His home, the place where so many memories lived, was nothing but a shell. And that emptiness made James feel small, like he didn't belong anywhere anymore.

The memories flooded back. He could still hear his mom calling him for dinner, still remember the sound of his dad's footsteps. This was the place that used to feel safe, but now, it was just a reminder of everything that was gone. It hurt. His fists clenched as frustration built inside him.

'Why did this happen?' he thought. 'How did everything fall apart so fast? Why am I so useless?'

But the bad memories didn't just hurt—they made him angry. He remembered the figure in the fire, the yellow-eyed demon, the terror he felt. He had barely made it out alive, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, had saved him. But why? The questions kept swirling in his mind, with no answers.

It was either this or the demon had let him go after killing his parents only.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His eyes went to the front door, the place where the fire had started. Going back inside would be hard, but he couldn't avoid it. He had to face it.

James turned back to the Impala but froze in place. A scream tore through the quiet night, sharp and chilling. It wasn't a normal scream—it sounded like many voices blended into one, deep and full of anger. It sent a shiver down his spine.

He spun around to look at the house, his heart racing. What he saw made his stomach drop. Lights flickered through the shattered windows, casting strange, shifting shadows. The scream came again, even louder, filled with fury and sorrow.

Without thinking, James ran toward the house, his legs aching but ignoring the pain. As he got closer, he could hear the chaos more clearly. Things were being smashed and thrown inside, the noise echoing through the walls.

---

Inside the house, Dean and Sam were in the middle of a fight. The poltergeist was powerful, stronger than anything they had dealt with recently. The air was icy cold, and objects were flying around the room with violent force.

Dean ducked as a broken chair leg flew past his head and smashed into the wall. "Damn it, Sam!" he yelled. "We need to stop this thing before it wrecks the whole place!"

"I'm trying!" Sam shouted back, holding his shotgun. He fired a salt round at the poltergeist, but it only flickered before retaliating, slamming him into the wall.

Dean aimed his pistol with iron rounds and fired, but the bullets passed through the entity. "This thing's playing dirty!" he growled, quickly reloading. "I hate dirty fighters."

The poltergeist roared and slammed Dean into a bookshelf. He groaned but held onto his weapon. "Sam, you okay?"

Sam got to his feet, holding his ribs. "Not really," he muttered.

The poltergeist wasn't done. It turned its focus to Sam, lifting him off the ground. Sam struggled as its invisible grip tightened. His shotgun slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, firing again, but it had no effect. The poltergeist only seemed to get stronger, the energy in the room pulsing like a heartbeat.

---

James entered the house, his anger blazing. He was furious that some ghost was now destroying whatever was left of his house.

The air smelled like smoke and sulfur, and he could feel the heavy presence of the poltergeist. But unlike Sam and Dean, James could see it.

The entity was a swirling shadow, vaguely shaped like a human, with glowing hollow eyes. It was holding Sam in the air, its claws digging into his shoulders. Seeing that only made James's anger explode.

Energy surged through him, powerful and raw. He raised his hand, summoning the Essence Flame. A blue fire fire appeared in his palm, glowing brightly in the dark room.

Just as the fire appeared, the poltergeist turned it's attention to James.

It hissed and recoiled at the sight of the flame. In fear it subconsciously tried to tighten its grip on Sam, but James didn't allow it.

With a furious yell, James hurled the Essence Flame straight at the entity. The flame hit it directly, setting it ablaze. The poltergeist screamed in pain, dropping Sam, who fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Dean saw his chance and fired a salt round that hit the poltergeist in the chest. The entity flickered violently, its form becoming unstable.

James wasn't finished. He walked closer, his eyes locked on the weakening creature.

"You are not getting away, f*cker," he snarled. Activating Essence Absorption, he drew the poltergeist's essence into himself. The process was intense, the power surging through him like fire. It burned, but it also made him slightly stronger.

The poltergeist let out one last, fading scream before disappearing entirely. The house fell silent, and the heavy atmosphere lifted.

---

Dean and Sam stared at James, shell shocked. No one said anything for a while.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked finally coming to his wits, as he put away his gun.

James turned to them, his eyes glowing faintly with blue hues of the essence flame. "That," he said evenly, "was me making sure it never hurts anyone again."

Sam got up slowly, still catching his breath. "James, what did you do? What in God's name was that fire? What happened to that poltergeist?"

"I destroyed it," James said flatly. He looked at his hands, feeling the new strength coursing through him.

Dean spoke while supporting Sam,"We're gonna need to talk about that," he said. "But for now, let's just get the hell out of here."

James nodded, his anger finally calming but still simmering under the surface.

As he turned to follow the brothers, he stopped in his tracks. Near the doorway, he saw someone he could never forget. The man stood there, looking just like James remembered—strong, with kind but tired eyes and a small, comforting smile.

James' heart raced, his thoughts spinning in confusion and hope. He felt a lump in his throat and struggled to find his voice. Finally, he managed to speak, his words barely above a whisper.

"D-Dad?"

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