Just as a pre-story note, this is just half of the whole next one-shot. Part two is still being edited, but will be up very, very soon! So without further ado, here's part one. Thank you to every single person who wrote a review! They were all very kind and I really appreciated it. If you read this, please to try to leave a few words…I love to hear from you all!

Disclaimer: I do not own Spiderman…although, again, web-shooters would be pretty wonderful! Especially since I aspire to someday be Spider-Girl…and I can't really do that without the web-shooters….

Dreams that Can Not Be

Gwen Stacy hated night time. More specifically, it was the time in between dinner and falling asleep that she hated. She was beginning to hate dinner, as well, even though it was really the only time besides breakfast on the weekends that she and her family ate together. Except the thing was, even though she, her mother, and her three brothers were all present, something was missing. The family naturally tried to block it out, mostly by discussing trivial things like their days at school or at work, but every silence was a reminder of what they had lost.

It had been almost four months since George Stacy had died and Gwen was still stuck in the habit of setting his place at the dinner table. Every time her mother told her dinner was ready, Gwen had to bite down the urge to call for her father and pass the message. And every time she had to remind herself that he would not sit in his special chair and that he would not respond even if she was screaming and crying, it was like he was dying all over again. Gwen had always been a bit of a Daddy's Girl…every time she had needed him, her dad was there. Until now. Now that he was gone, she needed him more than ever.

Gwen was lying on her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, when she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," she told the knocker. The door opened and she looked up to see her mother, still dressed in a sweater and jeans, walk in. Helen Stacy looked surprised when she saw Gwen, already in her pajamas and under the covers.

"Gwen," she sighed, sitting at the end of her daughter's bed. "You know it's only 7:30."

"I know, Mom," Gwen said, sitting up and resting her elbows on her knees. "I just…felt like going to bed early."
Her mom looked at her, skeptical and worried at the same time. "It's Friday night, honey."

"Yeah, so?" Gwen asked, the familiar, unintended irritation creeping up on her. Her mother seemed to notice and said very cautiously,

"So, when I was your age, I never wanted to stay home in bed on a Friday night," she smiled sympathetically at Gwen when the latter sighed impatiently and began to study her bedspread. Gwen traced her finger over the embroidered designs, not really wanting to hear what her mother had to say. Helen covered Gwen's hand with her own. "Sweetheart, I know you're having a hard time with…everything that's happened. But I don't want you shutting yourself up and driving yourself crazy over it."

"I'm not shutting myself up, Mom!" Gwen exclaimed, looking back up. "And I'm not driving myself crazy, it's just…I just….I want to stay in." she sighed and added, "Catch up on my sleep."

Her mother's eyes were still narrowed and her lips still pursed, as if she wanted to say more, but she saw that Gwen would not be swayed. She squeezed her daughter's hand.

"Alright, sweetie," she said, trying to keep a smile on her face, though all she really felt like doing was crying. It was so unfair that her daughter, that all of her children, should have to go through this so young. "You just talk to me if there's anything you need."

"I will, Mom," Gwen said softly. She felt a pang of guilt, though she was not sure why. It was almost like by not going out and being a normal teenager, she felt she was somehow letting her mother down. She curled underneath her blankets once more as her mom got up. Tucking her hands underneath her head, she pretended to start to fall asleep, expecting the door to close. When it didn't, she opened one eye timidly. Her mother was standing in the door frame, holding to the knob, and looking at Gwen thoughtfully.

"If you don't mind me asking, Gwennie," she began, her tone light and mild. Gwen lifted her head to listen. "Whatever happened with that boy who came over for branzino? Peter, I think his name was."

Gwen let her head fall back on the pillow carelessly.

"I don't know," she said, not failing to hear the bitterness in her voice. Before she could stop herself she added on a whisper, "Why?"

Helen paused, also detecting Gwen's discontent.

"It's just," she started, unsure. She sighed. "Gwen, I know how happy he made you. I just thought…maybe seeing him would make you feel a little better."

Gwen bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. Yes, he had made her happy and, yes, seeing him would make her feel better. If only he felt that way too.

"I don't know," she repeated, once she had found her voice. "He and I haven't…we kind of went separate ways."

"Oh, that's too bad," her mother said and she sounded genuinely disappointed. "He seemed like a very nice, respectful young man."

And, with that, she closed the door. Gwen had to cover her mouth to keep her sobs silent. They wracked her body, covering her pillow with tears. The truth was she and Peter had hardly talked at all since he told her that they couldn't be together, and the conversations they had were both pointless and civilly polite or they had gone very wrong. Their last encounter had been one of these grievously wrong times. Or at least, that's how it had felt to Gwen because they had made absolutely no progress in any which way.

He had been late to class and had made the teacher some promise that it wouldn't happen again.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Parker."

"Yeah, but those are the best kind…" Peter had whispered, just loud enough for Gwen to hear. She couldn't stop the dorky smile that had spread across her face. But when she confronted him about it, that smile vanished immediately. He instantaneously had regretted saying that.

"I have to keep you safe," Peter had then stated. Gwen, who was so sick of hearing this by now, had spun around and practically stomped down the hall. She wished he would follow but he hadn't, of course. He was, as her mother had so perfectly put it, a 'respectful young man'. At least, he was towards Gwen's father's dying wish. Every one of the nastier conversations between Peter and Gwen ended with that, with Peter saying that he couldn't let anything bad happen to her or he had to stay away so she wouldn't be in any danger. Everything boiled down to that promise and it sometimes got so irritating that Gwen found herself wishing something dangerous would happen to her just so that Peter would see that she was more vulnerable without him than with him.

But nothing had happened and Peter had relentlessly stayed away. And people in Portland, all the way across the country, could hear Gwen's heart breaking. Losing her father was enough…why did she have to lose Peter too? They hadn't been a couple for very long, but yet, Gwen knew she loved him and she knew he loved her. She had had a reoccurring dream of Peter for the past few weeks. They were sitting at the top of a clock tower, as they once had on a special, midnight date. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled down at her; the night was absolutely beautiful, but Gwen wasn't paying attention to anything around her. All that mattered was Peter, his eyes, his hair, his deep soul, and his hands that cupped her face gently…everything about him. They looked into each other's eyes and Gwen felt a swoop of joyful relief. Finally, she thought, looking into his big, warm brown eyes that were getting closer and closer…and then his lips were on hers and he was kissing her and she was kissing him and he was her everything and then…she'd wake up.

Gwen didn't know she had fallen asleep until she felt Peter's lips disappear from hers. She opened her eyes to almost complete darkness and a heavy heart. She had had the dream again. God, she hated that damn dream! Of course, in some way, she also loved it; really, it was waking up that she hated. She looked at the clock: It was midnight on the dot. She hadn't actually meant to fall asleep, but perhaps it was for the better. Staying up would have resulted in her torturing herself with memories.

Even so, Gwen felt wide awake. She sat up and stared dejectedly at the closed blinds. It wasn't until last week, until that last argument with Peter that Gwen had stopped leaving the blinds up. She had always done it with hopes that he would return out of nowhere and tell her he couldn't stand it anymore and that they should start seeing each other again. Sometimes, hope makes you hurt more than it helps. Gwen forced herself to stop hoping and to face the facts. But there was still a tiny part of her…

Before she knew it, she had pulled those closed shades up, unleashing all of her hopes. It was only to have them fall again. The fire-escape was empty. And why shouldn't it be? Tonight was no different than any other night. Gwen bit her lower lip with an agonizing mixture of pain and anger. Her legs were tense with frustration. Suddenly, she couldn't stand to be in her room a second longer. Without a second thought, Gwen changed into a pair of jeans, threw on a jacket and a pair of boots, and quietly left the apartment.

Half an hour later, Gwen found herself aimlessly wandering the streets of Manhattan. Somewhere deep inside of her, she knew that leaving her apartment to walk through New York in the middle of the night was one of the more reckless decisions she had ever made. But she couldn't stay in her room, looking out at that eternally empty fireplace and dreaming a dream that could not be. So she had left, sneaking out silently so as not to wake her family. Her mother would probably flip if she found out; yes, she had encouraged Gwen to be with friends, but not go out alone in the dark streets and alleyways. But Gwen had noticed early on that the streets were strangely calm, with only the frequent car or taxi speeding past. The only people she came across were either sleeping homeless or hand-holding couples (the latter sending shocks of disgusted envy through her.) And, for the record, Gwen had been exposed to much worse. She had used a blow torch on a lizard, for crying out loud.

Thoughts of the Lizard sparked thoughts of Peter. Gwen stomped her boots against the pavement, which was slick from a recent drizzle. Where was that infuriating boy now? Was he sleepless and walking, or more likely in his case, swinging, through Manhattan like she was? She wondered if he thought about her half as much as she thought about him. With a twinge of pain, Gwen answered herself. No, there were times in which Peter didn't even acknowledge her and when he did, it was with a guarded, stand-offish air, as if he was nodding to a stranger. And even worse was his sudden…friendship with one Mary Jane Watson. Gwen hated that more than anything and, yes, she was not afraid to admit it, she was unbelievably jealous of all the time that Mary Jane and Peter were spending together. In fact, Gwen thought bitterly, every single time she had seen Peter in the past few days, he had been accompanied by the flirty redhead. She followed him everywhere, including Peter's locker, which was right across from Gwen's. Gwen couldn't help but gag at the sickeningly girlish giggles and simpers that filled the halls. Unintentionally, she'd slam her locker shut quite violently, causing multiple heads to glance in her direction, including, she had once noticed, Peter's. She was determined not to make eye-contact with him. He was probably perfectly happy with the company of the slim, beautiful, and horrendously ditzy Mary Jane. She and Gwen had been very close friends in their freshman year, but then Gwen realized that Mary Jane was a two-faced, manipulative airhead who only cared about popularity…needless to say, that friendship hadn't ended very well.

The calamity was shattered like glass by sudden screams, ripping Gwen from her bitter thoughts.

"Help me! Please somebody-"

"Shut up! I said, SHUT UP!"

Gwen froze. She listened, alert, for the approximate location of continuous shrieks. She stepped slowly, cautiously past a shabby convenience store, and peeked around the corner of the brick building. Her heart stopped and she had to cover her mouth to hold in a gasp. Just a few feet down, a girl Gwen recognized from school was being pinned against the building by a short, squat thug. Another man stood behind him, flexing his muscles and looking threatening. The man yelled something incomprehensible to the girl and she screamed again.

"I don't know, I don't know! Please…someone…!"

"Hey!" Gwen found herself shouting before she could stop herself. The short man ignored her and continued to shout at the girl, who was sobbing, but the big man turned his head to Gwen. "Hey! Stop it!"

The short man finally glanced at her. He did not release the girl, but stared at Gwen, his eyes hard.

"Just walk away, little girl," he said dismissively, his voice low. Gwen ignored him. She didn't take orders from just anybody, especially not a criminal. She was her father's daughter, after all. The man raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not going to say it again," he growled. "This isn't your business, so get out of here before we make you."

Gwen bit her lip to keep it from trembling, but remained where she was. When she spoke, however, she could not stop her voice from shaking.

"I'm not leaving until you let her go."

The man paused, his eyes glinting. Without warning, he released his grip on the girl. She fell to the ground in a weak heap. Instinctively, Gwen started forward to help her up, but the short man grabbed her by the arm.

"Not so fast," he whispered. Gwen flinched away from his rank breath. Suddenly, he swung his fist up, aimed right for Gwen's nose. She turned her head quickly and his knuckles scraped her cheek. Pain shot up the side of her face.

"Oh, you did not just do that…" Gwen breathed heatedly, her eyes wide. Without hesitation, she thrust her knee up, hitting him directly in the gut. He doubled over, groaning with agony. Gwen blinked, a little surprised at herself. Her father had taught her how to bring someone down, but she had never really had an opportunity to apply it before. There was no time to be impressed though because although the smaller man was still writhing on the ground, the bigger man was not. He neared her with a deadly stare. Gwen glanced back, hoping to help her classmate up and run but when she looked…the girl was gone.

Great, Gwen thought, so much for gratitude. She was alone.

"You're messing with the wrong people." The big man spoke in a surprisingly high voice, like a humorless Muppet. Gwen would have found it funny had she not been turning pale as a sheet with panic. The other guy was one thing, but this one…no matter how silly his voice sounded Gwen knew that there was no way she would even make a dent in him. She tried to speak, to potentially reason with him, but her voice seemed to have disappeared. Every step he took closer to her, Gwen took another one away until her back hit the brick of the building. He leered in at her, his brutish figures smiling unkindly. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable blow. It never came. Instead, a familiar voice filled her ears.

"You are messing with the wrong people, buddy."

Oooohhh, what happens next? You'll have to stay tuned to find out! I know that that was mainly angst from Gwen, but the second part will have much more action and a lot more Gwen/Peter interaction. Trust me though, if I had posted it all as one chapter, it would have been excessively long. Unnaturally and annoyingly long. So, they've been split in half.

On another note, is anyone else really enjoying the names of the most recent winter storms? Winter Storm Draco followed by Winter Storm Gandalf…my inner fantasy nerd is very pleased.

Please review!