It was nearly impossible to believe.
Nearly.
But the proof was there, in his arms. His ex-girlfriend from many years ago, now just a best friend for life.
Her life hadn't lasted very long. She was only twenty-eight, with so much to live for.
She was covered in blood, most was her own. Her armor had long ago been dismantled and just completely and utterly destroyed beyond repair.
He wasn't sure if she was still breathing; he wasn't sure if her heart was still beating. He wasn't sure of anything at the moment. The world just seemed to have stopped. The fighting seemed to stop at the death of the ArchAngel, a neutral party up until recently.
Her wings twitched slightly, giving him hope, until they dropped to the ground, never to move again.
A weak, shallow, shuddering breath passed through her bloody lips.
Her magic waned, she started fading out of her angelic form back into her human one. Her red-stained white hair shimmered before becoming blacker than ink. Her eyes glowed a violent gold before dimming to a warm chocolate color.
Her hand twitched, like she was trying to grab his red-clothed hand. He saved her the effort and scooped up her fragile little hand.
Another shuddering breath, a glance at the gaping hole in her stomach. He knew she wouldn't survive, there was nothing anyone could do for her at this point.
She knew it, too.
"Peter," she gasped. "Just stay like-like-" She broke off into a coughing fir that brought up blood. "Just stay with-with me...til I-until I..." She started coughing again. A fountain of blood poured from her wound. More blood trickled from her mouth.
She locked her gaze with his, conveying one last, silent message to him; I love you.
Her eyes unfocused, then dimmed as the light left them. Her hand lost its strength. Her head lolled to the side.
It was impossible, right? This was ArchAngel, the resilient and bull-headed bastard child of Tony Stark; she wasn't completely human, human things couldn't kill her, could they?
They could, and they did.
A civil war killed her. Her own father killed her.
How could the world be so cruel to someone who did her best to make it a safer place to live?
"Spidey."
She stopped the war from getting worse, stopped more people from dying.
"I didn't-this wasn't supposed to happen."
It angered him to hear those words. Tony Stark needed to realize that he wasn't talking to some starstruck Peter Parker, but rather a battle hardened Spider-Man who had just lost his best friend.
Peter's lip curled up, not that anyone could see. "You just don't think, do you?"
The metal-clad hand that had been about to rest on his shoulder retracted at the venom lacing his voice.
"You don't think that something bad will ever happen when you pull stupid shit, do you?" Peter stood up, his friend lying gently on the ground, eyes now closed in respect. "You won't even own up to your mistakes."
"I do own up to my mistakes, when I'm actually at fault," Tony said defensively.
"You don't think this is you fault?"
Tony hmphed in response.
"How can you be so selfish?!" Peter screamed. "Ella's dead because you put a repulser beam through her stomach! Tell me how that isn't your goddanm fault!"
"I-"
"You what? Weren't aiming at her? Weren't paying attention?!" Peter snarled at the much older man. "She's your daughter, how can you feel nothing?"
All around them, the fighting had slowed, none actually wanting to fight one another. The other heroes watched as Spider-Man screamed at Iron Man. Most had focused their gazes on the broken and bloodied figure behind the vigilante's feet. A figure most anyone would recognize.
"You know what? I don't want to hear anything you have to say," Peter hissed.
He turned on his heel and picked his fallen comrade up as gingerly as possible. He waded through the bloody mess of heroes who tried to offer him sympathy. They didn't understand though, they could never truly understand.
.
He tried not to cry at the funeral, he really did, but he couldn't hold it back. He watched his friend as she was buried at a simple ceremony with very few guests.
His wife, Mary-Jane, was there. MJ and Ella had been close friends, despite their numerous differences. The Fantastic Four had shown up, so had Aunt May and Captain America. Tony hadn't shown up.
A few hours after the ceremony ended, Peter was still there, alone. Everyone knew he needed space, and he was grateful that they understood.
His spidey sense tingled, but he ignored it.
"Silver told me this would happen." Peter glanced up to see Tony standing beside him. "I asked her to take Ella to another dimension when this all started. She refused, told me this was a fixed point in time and she wouldn't interfere," he gave a sideways glance to Peter. "She told me Ella would keep things from getting worse, but that she would be killed by someone she trusted."
"Then why did you shoot?"
"I panicked when I saw you two together, I thought you might be the person Silver was talking about." He sighed. "I was wrong. I made a mistake, one that cost the most important woman in my life."
Peter didn't reply, he hadn't been ready for a heart to heart. He stayed silent.
They stayed like that for a while, neither speaking. Tony eventually left, and Peter was all alone again.
He stayed there, watching over his fallen angel.
.
A/N: Hey I'm Dove! This is my first story, but don't go easy on me. I want to know what you guys think. Uh, Silver and Ella/ArchAngel are OCs that I have, and keep a look out for Silver in my future stories. Anyway, review please!
Edit: So, a friend of mine read this and was like "This is really sad!" and I thought maybe I should write an alternate ending. So, if enough people want to see Ella live at the end of this I am willing to write an alternate ending for it. Okay, bye now!