I just saw TASM 2, and, unless you want to be in immense physical pain, I suggest you don't watch it.

Peter woke up covered in a cold sweat. His heart was beating almost painfully against his ribcage, and tears stained his cheeks. He had just awoken from the most terrifying nightmare of his young life. Gwen had fallen, and his web had caught her just in time. However, the sudden stop had snapped her neck, and she had died instantly. It was his fault. He promised her father he would keep her out of harms way, and he was too weak to just love Gwen from a distance, and she had died and it was because of him. Thank God it was just a dream, right?

What if it wasn't a dream? Peter began to panic. Gwen wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. It was impossible for her to be dead.

He glanced at the digital clock next to his bed. The glowing green numbers informed him it was three-thirty in the morning. He collapsed his head back on the pillow, sighing. He was getting worked up over nothing. Gwen hadn't died. It was a nightmare. But it had seemed so real...It couldn't hurt to call her, would it? Just a quick phone call to reassure she was okay...

No, Peter decided. He wouldn't wake her up at an ungodly hour of the morning because he had a stupid dream. What kind of boyfriend would he be, interupting his love's beauty sleep...not that she needed it.

But the cell phone lying next to the clock seemed to call out to Peter. Just a quick call, just in case. Peter picked up the object, wincing as the brightness pierced the darkness of his bedroom. He quickly dialed Gwen's number and held the phone up to his ear and listened as it rang.

Ring one. Ring two. Ring three. Ring fou-

"Peter?" It was obvious that Gwen had just woken up, her voice was scratchy and quiet. "It's, like, three in the morning. Is something wrong?"

"I'm okay. I just.." Peter trailed off. He didn't want her to think he was weak, and couldn't handle a bad dream on his own.

"Peter, are you okay?" She sounded more alert now.

"I'm fine, it was just a nightmare. I-I shouldn't have called, I'll just let you sleep-"

Peter was cut off by the sound of his concerned girlfriend's voice. "Peter, I'm glad you called. What was your dream about?"

He winced. He couldn't exactly recount the gory details of her death to her via phone at three fourty-four in the morning. "Do you mind if I come over?" He asked.

"Not at all. Come on over."

Ten minutes later, Peter, dressed as Spiderman (with his pajamas on underneath the spandex), knocked lightly on Gwen Stacy's window. Gray curtains were peeled back, and Gwen opened the window. He smiled slightly at the sight of her. Her hair was tangled from sleep and fell ungracfully around her shoulders, and she was dressed in flannel pajama pants and a shirt he was pretty sure belonged to him.

He climbed into the bedroom, and pulled off his mask. Gwen sat on her bed, pulling the covers up over her lap. She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for Peter to sit. He peeled off the red and blue costume and sat next to her on the bed. She made sure the blankets covered both of them.

"Wanna talk about your dream?" She asked, leaning into his shoulder.

Peter sighed. "Not really."

"You'll feel better."

"I don't think I will."

"Peter, please. Just tell me."

"I had a dream you died, okay?" Peter snapped. "You fell, and I tried to catch you, and I did, but the force of the stop broke your neck, and you died. You died, and it was because I couldn't stay away from you. I broke the promise to your dad, and then it was my fault you died. and it wasn't just my fault, it was my hands that killed you." The teenage boy broke into tears after his rant. Gwen looked at him with shock and concern in her eyes. Her look softened as she pulled him into a hug. He cried into her shoulder, and she rubbed his back soothingly.

"It's okay. I'm not dead, I'm right here. You're okay. You're with me, Peter, we're gonna be fine." Gwen murmured, burying her face into his shoulder. Peter's sobs eventually subsided, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I love you, Gwen. I love you, and I can't stand the thought of you dying, and leaving me here without you." He said, his voice cracking.

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I love you too, Peter." She pressed her face against his collarbone, and now Peter ran his hand up and down her back. The shorter girl yawned, and Peter could feel it against the thin cotton of his shirt.

Ever so gently, Peter scooped up his girlfriend, and tucked her into the bed. "Go to sleep, Gwen."

She nodded, and tugged on the boy's wrist. "Don't go." She requested, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Peter smiled as he climbed under the covers and pulled Gwen close to him. "Never."