Special thanks to Aurora Marie Williams for beta reading this piece. She managed to find time in her busy schedule to assist me with the editing. And thank you readers for reading my stories and- thwip thwip! AU universe

Who knew how easy it was to fall prey to something so soothing, yet so demanding at the same time? Who knew that anyone could be influenced no matter the amount of common sense a person carried on his shoulders? Who knew that everything could go so wrong with just a slap to the face? With words?

Above all, who knew that a certain hero with certain skilled qualities could be fighting-

ROOOAAAAARRR!

-the horror of a man once called Eddie Brock, now dubbed Venom.

Peter Parker and Eddie were best friends. That is, until Eddie decided that power comes before other people, namely people he cared about, Peter among them. Now, both men were going to pay the price for their selfish involvement with that symbiote. The very creature that threatened to tear the host from reality and awaken them to their own true potentials.

And here they were now, fighting one another almost to the death like a pair of bloodthirsty gladiators. If Peter could just hit. That. MONSTER! The two look alikes found themselves pushing against one another, grasping each others palms until their knuckles were white, a stark contrast to the dark, dried blood coating them. Before Spiderman knew it, he was sweating Niagara Falls while Eddie was barely out of breath.

Mary Jane's screams refocused Peter's thoughts back to the current dilemma.

How did everything go so wrong?

Last week...

"Meteor Falls From Sky."

Peter saw it on the news.

Very interesting, certainly something worth checking out, he thought to himself.

The camera then zoomed in on a slick black goo escaping from the center of the meteor. Fortunately, a police officer captured the goo in a swift movement with a jar.

Immediately the glass of the jar fogged up, preventing anyone from seeing the strange black substance. Call Peter crazy, but he could have sworn the goo was writing a message on the glass of the jar. Like it was trying to communicate.

Four words.

I NEED A HERO.

Peter blinked a couple times, but the words still gleamed, clear as day.

After that news report, Peter didn't hear any more about this symbiote – the name some officials had given to the substance – until Wednesday evening, little more than three days after the incident.

xXxXx

The thief had broke into the Oscorp building where the symbiote laid in a special laboratory room where it would have been tested the next day. The woman stole the strange and intriguing alien, setting off the alarm in the process.

In her haste to escape from Oscorp, she began racing down the streets of a small neighborhood. What she didn't see was the large black cat crossing the road. The thief tripped over the cat, and after much hissing from both, the thief drug herself back up and started running. She hadn't noticed the fact that the glass jar holding the symbiote had fallen out of her bag and shattered on the road.

Seeping out from the jar, the black symbiote crawled towards its target. Up the steps, under the door, up the stairway railing, and under another door. It's senses were going haywire now, anticipating how it would feel to be connected to a host again.

What better host than this broken teenage boy?

xXxXx

The next morning, Peter was on his way to work when a grumpy man bumped into Peter rather roughly. Acting as if on impulse, Peter angrily picked the man up by his collar and slammed him into the wall of the brick building beside him. The teenage boy watched in horror as the man slid down the wall, falling over onto the ground.

He was debating running or helping the man when a voice hissed in his head.

You do not want to help this man.

Peter stopped in his tracks and put a head up to his head. Who did this voice belong to? It definitely was not his own.

"Why not?" Peter questioned aloud.

He tried to hurt you, the voice reasoned.

This is all too strange. Peter's head darted around, looking for the source of this mysterious, cold voice.

"Where are you? Who are you?"

Don't speak. You can communicate through telepathy. Otherwise your kind may consider you crazy.

Proving the voice's point, Peter saw that there were some college age females watching him with extremely curious looks. Peter grinned bashfully, gave a small wave, and dashed into the alley.

:Am I going crazy?: Peter asked himself, then wondered if the voice could hear all of his thoughts.

After getting out of civilization's sights and into the alley, he tried communicating with the voice again.

:Who are you exactly?: He spoke in his mind.

Peter didn't get a response for a while, making him wonder if he'd just imagined the happenings of the past five minutes. He considered going back to the street when the voice hissed inside his skull once more.

We are the symbiote, the most complex and advanced being from a planet in a quadrant of the galaxy somewhere not far from here.

:Oh, that's real specific,: Peter thought, somehow saying it with a jab of sarcasm. :What do you mean by "somewhere"?:

We mean-

:And what's with the "we" stuff?: Peter interrupted. :You're just one symbiote, one being from a planet, and I quote "somewhere.":

We mean "we" as in you and us. Those who bond with us become a part of us, therefore making "we". That is how the bond works. It is a mutual relationship.

:Like a whale with a barnacles attached to it?:

A whale? Barnacle? What is that?

:Okay, never mind.:

Mutual relationship? In order for a mutual relationship to work, one organism would need to do something for the other organism. What would the symbiote do for Peter?

And what would Peter have to do for it?

We sense your doubt, the strange voice noticed.

:We're going to have to establish a pact if we're doing this "mutual relationship" thing...: Peter trailed off wondering what the consequences might be. He pushed that thought away. :What will I have to do for you?:

Allow us to explain what we can do for you first, the voice said smoothly. We will give you everything you need to save the lives of citizens-

:Wait, how did you-:

Since we are a part of you, you are a part of us as well. We can communicate through telepathy, can see your thoughts and memories. We know who you are, Spiderman. All these speak to us as clear as a ringing bell. In order for the bond to work, we must trust each other equally. We must be willing to communicate and work together as one.

:And... what exactly will you give to me?:

Like we were saying before, anything required saving the day; we will enhance all your abilities, give you a feeling of refreshment every morning, and do all the unnecessary tasks that you do not want to do. Why, we'll even dress you so you won't have to do it yourself! The voice had a dreamy tone, as though it were the one being promised this treatment. All we need is a home. Your trust. And perhaps some French toast.

Peter made a strange face.

What? Don't you humans enjoy jokes?

Peter ignored the voice. :My home?:

More specifically your suit, the voice said. So hero, what do you think? Will you bond with us? Give us the home and yourself an easier life?

:I- Wait, what time is it?: Peter looked at his wristwatch. :8:30?! Oh, crap!:

Peter was more than thirty minutes late! He needed to go now. Peter dropped his bag on the pavement and dug around for his suit. Right when he pulled it out, black goo ran out of his pants pocket and crawled along his arm to his suit. The substance coated every inch of the suit, expanding and growing.

:You're the symbiote. From the news.:

How clever, Peter.

Peter examined the now black and silver suit, every aspect of his iconic red and blue suit gone. He shrugged off his clothes and wear the suit on anyway. Spiderman examined his hands.

:Not bad:, he thought, impressed by the symbiote's abilities.

Just then his cell phone rang, vibrating quite violently in his bag.

"Hello?"

"Parker! You're late! Unless you don't want your job, get your butt over here pronto!" A slam of the phone rang in Spiderman's ears as Jameson hung up.

He froze with his phone in hand. He climbed up the wall and picked himself up to the ledge of the building. As he scanned for the best route, he panicked. No way could it be 8:30 already! Never mind, all he has to do is pick the fastest route possible and get there. The phone rang again.

He swore under his breath as he read the Caller ID. "Hello?"

"Peter, where are you?" Mary Jane's voice was laced with panic. "Remember you promised to have breakfast with me?"

His mind scanned for anything even remotely familiar about the breakfast. Nada.

"I'm so sorry, Mary Jane. I had a late start," he lied. "I'm rushing to work as it is."

Mary Jane laughs. "Okay, Mr. Scatterbrain, whatever you have to do. But seriously, this is like the fourth time..." She rambled on and on about the canceled dates Peter completely forgot. Peter stood there, looking for a way out of the conversation. Time was ticking.

Brrrriiiinngg!

A security alarm went off in proximity of the downtown. Spiderman followed the sound, clutching his phone so tightly he accidentally hung up on MJ. Great, now he's got some apologizing to do. Later.

xXxXx

After webbing up the criminals to a lamppost – very quickly, but it still left his muscles aching – Spiderman sighed with relief only to have his Spider-sense kick in yet again. This time there was a fire located at... Sixth Avenue.

:Is it Commit a Crime Day and I didn't get the memo?:

Spiderman held his head in a vain attempt to lock out the sounds.

That's when the clever symbiote saw its' chance.

Will you bond with us?

:Yes, yes, anything!: Anything for some peace and quiet.

Then, as though a God sensed Spiderman's emotions, everything got silent. Nothing made a sound. Even the children who usually play on the streets sounded distant. A moment later, Peter's cell phone rang. Peter hit the ignore button, then zipped off, feeling more rejuvenated than he had in years.

QOTS: What is your favorite Marvel/DC character? Just curious y'know