One thing I want to make sure that I say is that I do not know anything about the comics (Except for what I looked up about Gwen, and I'm going to pretend I never read that!) so any similarities in villains are unintentional. I've got the story planned out entirely, but just have to make sure it gets out right ;) I want to say thank you for the great response! It is incredibly encouraging, and I hope you keep enjoying it!

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Peter approached his house hesitantly, his nerves threatening to get the better of him. He'd decided to tell Aunt May the truth, and was terrified of facing her. He knew she would be upset with him for risking himself so frequently, especially after Uncle Ben, but he couldn't hide the truth from her any longer. With a deep breath, he adjusted his backpack and his jacket, and trudged up the stairs.

"Peter! Oh, thank goodness, I have been so worried! Are you okay?" Aunt May rambled when he opened the door. Her eyes scanned his face and his body quickly, taking in his scraped and bruised skin with tears in her eyes.

Peter nodded, and took her hand. "I'm okay. Aunt May, I need to show you something." He led her to the couch, and urged her to sit down. He took the seat beside her and unzipped his bag with a shaking hand. The fabric of his uniform felt like it weighed a ton as he pulled it free.

When he looked up at his last remaining family member, tears had begun streaming down her face. "Oh, Peter…honey I know. I'm so proud of you for telling me the truth. Why…why are you doing this to yourself?" she questioned, her voice trembling.

Peter dropped his gaze to the floor. "Uncle Ben told me that my father lived by the principle that it is our responsibility to do what we are able for others. I…I have these…these new abilities, and when I look at the people caught up in these disasters, I know that it is my responsibility to help them…because I can, and sometimes only I can. It…it didn't start that way, but I want to do right by Uncle Ben…by my dad."

A gentle hand on his cheek drew Peter's attention back to the woman who had raised him. "I wish it didn't have to be you, but I understand. And I can tell you, your uncle has always been proud of you," she insisted gently. "I saw the news…your arm?"

It took Peter a moment to shake himself from his surprise at her response. "Uh…Gwen cleaned it up for me. It'll be better by tomorrow, don't worry."

Aunt May nodded, and looked down. "I'm glad you made up with her. I love you and I want you to be happy, but please be careful Peter." He nodded with a small smile. "Go and get some rest. Keep me informed if something happens, okay?"

"I will. I love you, Aunt May. Thank you," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. She caught him in a hug and he felt her shake lightly with her tears. "I will be careful, I promise." With that, he grabbed his backpack and made his way upstairs. When he fell into his bed, he was asleep mere seconds after his head hit the pillow.

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The next day at school seemed to drag for Peter. Every class that he had with Gwen, all he could focus on was the fact that she was so close, but not allowed to touch her. He wanted to continue what they'd started last night, but he really couldn't afford to get into any more trouble considering how many times he'd been late in the past two weeks. The way that she kept glancing his direction told him that she felt the same way. He felt like a giddy little kid all over again, and when he was around her he always wanted to be in contact with her. When he sat behind her, he rested his foot against the back of her shoe. When they were walking in the halls, they were holding hands or he was touching her back or she was touching his arm (this particular day, it seemed as though she was testing the healing more than anything else, but he really didn't mind). During lunch, both of them were too distracted to eat, so they sat in a secluded little nook, talking and kissing and holding hands until the bell rang again.

It was when they were walking home from school together that Peter felt it…that strange sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Someone somewhere was in trouble, and that meant he had to send Gwen home alone and go to the rescue. She spotted a dark alley that he could change in, gave him a brief kiss, told him to be careful, and guarded the alley until she knew that he was up and out safely. As she watched him swing from building to building, she smiled to herself and pride swelled in her.

When Peter arrived at the scene of the trouble, he knew it wasn't going to end well. There was a man standing on the edge of a bridge with a school bus teetering precariously over the water. If not for the man balancing it just enough with his hands, it would have already plummeted into the river with all of what looked like middle school kids trapped inside. Peter gracefully dropped to the pavement in front of the man, trying to find any clues to let him know if he was a superhuman or something else entirely. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that you should pick on someone your own size?" he called out.

"I was beginning to think that you would never show up. I've got a little test for you, Spiderman. I want to see if you are as amazing as they claim. I am going to let go of this bus. You can either come after me, or you can save these children," the stranger stated, far too calm for Peter's liking. The sensation in his neck had intensified and was making his skin crawl.

"Why are you doing this? Who are you?" Peter demanded, straightening to his full height. The man before him laughed.

"I am Volt, and I am determining if you are a worthy opponent. I have great plans for this wonderful city; if you fail to be the big hero here, there will be nothing for me to worry about when the time comes to unveil my plan. If you succeed and survive, then I must plan accordingly to ensure you do not stop me. So what will it be, Spiderman?" he taunted.

"Well I can tell you're well adjusted," Peter muttered under his breath. He was frantically planning out how to stop the bus from going into the river, before Volt let go. "No!" he shouted, though he knew it was useless. Instantly, he shot web after web at the back of the bus as he ran, ignoring the retreating villain. He knew the biocable would hold the bus, but the edge of the bridge was already crumbling under the weight of the bus. "Damnit!" he growled as the weight strained his arms. He continuously attached strands to the collapsing bridge to keep the bus as level as possible and to reduce the strain on his arms; he would be useless if he tore every muscle and tendon.

The back door of the bus opened and the driver leaned out. "Oh my God, am I glad to see you!" he shouted. "Okay, kids, lets go! Out and as far away as you can get to the right!" Peter was grateful for the man's ability to keep his cool, when the situation was desperately grim. As fast as he was attaching new cables, the bridge was crumbling. As the school kids scrambled out of the bus, it continued to shift and pull him harder until he wasn't sure if he could handle it anymore.

The driver continued to boost the kids out of the drooping vehicle, his face growing more and more determined. He looked at Peter, and smiled grimly. "Only two left, man!" Peter nodded but still didn't speak. With as hard as his body was strained with the weight, he wasn't sure he could force his voice to work anyway.

The second that the driver ducked out of sight, Peter felt something wrap itself around his chest and his entire body became one single, overpowering mass of agony. His voice theory was proven wrong when a jagged scream tore from his throat, and he thought back to the day that he was putting together his shooters and got shocked. As much as that had smarted, that pain was like getting tickled in comparison. He felt the bus lurch and immediately returned his attention and resolve to holding it long enough for the two kids and driver to run to safety. Everything was quaking…his hands, his legs, even the ground beneath his feet. Over the sound of his own voice turning from a scream to a battle cry and the crackling electricity that was licking into his body, he heard the driver yell that they were out, and then yell to Volt to stop.

"G-get those kids…out of h-here," Peter growled as he let go of the bus. At that same time, he felt the electricity stop and watched numbly as what looked like a whip or vine uncoiled from his chest, turning him as it did. The young hero felt his world begin to dim out, his vision blurring as Volt chuckled from his vantage point high up on the bridge support system, the vine seeming to retract into his wrist. He was going to question what was so funny-that is if he could find the strength to speak-when his world tilted. For a moment he thought his legs had simply given out, but when he heard the children call out his alter-ego's name, he realized that the bridge had crumbled under his feet, and he was falling.

Peter's last conscious thought was that the two women he loved were worrying about him right now, if the helicopter above him was any indication of news presence. He never registered hitting the water.