Mary Jane goes to Hell
Summary: I admit it. It's a stinking fix-fic. I just couldn't take One More Day any more. I had it in my head, and it had to come out.
Of course, being me, that means it comes out… like this.
So, if you aren't familiar with One More Day: Spider-man made a deal with Mephisto, the devil, which undid his marriage with MJ in order to save Aunt May's life. That's all you need to know for this…
A/N: As a plot point, further on in this story MJ draws a completely erroneous conclusion about Peter's powers based entirely on May's powers. Somebody is bound to remember that she should know better, based on her knowledge of the original timeline. But don't forget, she doesn't REALLY remember the original timeline. That's plot-important, as they say…
1.
Waiting around while Victor Creed, the Sabretooth, went around with her daughter to find her husband-from-another-timeline was killing MJ.
May was hardened by all her time in hell. She was brittle. She might just snap.
Creed was dangerous. And even if he was bound to obedience, bound to protect them, he was a monster. Only a monster. Always a monster.
MJ found herself a little nervous and lonely without the two of them there. It was a strange, insane feeling. She'd been on her own in a lot of cities before. She'd survived alone in hell. But after a few days of living with two super-powered people she felt helpless without them.
So she went for a walk.
She stayed in good neighborhoods, and she stopped at a store and picked up a can of mace. She wasn't stupid or suicidal. But she needed to prove that she wasn't afraid. That living in hell hadn't scarred her, left her some quaking, quivering pile of nerves who wouldn't leave her apartment.
She had to face this head-on.
The city stunk of humanity. She still had trouble getting used to people. She'd spent so long living in mortal fear of anything that had guts enough to look her in the eyes—how was she supposed to deal with people, now?
Fortunately, this was New York. Nobody looked her in the eye.
That was a relief.
She found herself heading towards Harry's coffee shop, a haven, and turned away from it. May was too right about that. The complications with Harry's father, the wildness she'd seen in his eyes, the very idea that he could have the kind of power … superhuman strength…
It was all too much to take in.
Something ghosted into her mind then. Harry's funeral.
Harry was alive, though. And the alternate reality—the ghost memories she had of Peter—how could that have…?
This was enough to make her eyes bulge wide open and make her stop walking in the middle of the street. The devil had resurrected Harry. Whatever was happening, he had a part to play in the devil's machinations.
Harry was part of the problem.
She wanted very badly to vomit. Dear, sweet Harry, a part of this problem? Harry, her old friend? Somehow serving the devil, brought back to life?
It was all going to…
She could taste brimstone again.
Every time she thought she was a step ahead of the devil, something else dragged her down. Every time she thought she was winning, they turned out to be losing.
She hurried back to the apartment. Creed and May were there waiting for her, and May looked fairly frantic. She grabbed MJ by the front of her shirt, lifting her up off the ground with a surprising strength.
"You don't leave this apartment alone!" she snarled.
Her arms were shaking, and MJ didn't think it was with the effort of lifting her mother in the air. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. MJ wrapped her arms around her daughter, squeezing her. "I'm all right; this world isn't hell, it's all right," she said soothingly.
May relaxed slowly, lowering her, but not letting go of her grip on the shirt. Creed chose to ignore them, checking the door. He was covered in bruises, and there was blood on his face.
"Did the deed," he muttered.
MJ ignored him. May was looking her right in the eyes, something she didn't do that often. She'd been scared, but even more than that, surprised. Not by MJ's absence. MJ was sure she'd been dreading it, anticipating the day she'd lose her mother again. No—by her response. May had attacked her when she came in the door, attacked her. She hadn't expected a hug in return.
She let go very reluctantly. "It's always dangerous out there," she said rebelliously.
May growled, turning away, her shoulders hunched.
Creed turned back to face her, unzipping his leather jacket. There was blood and bruises everywhere she could see, though the bruises were fast fading and the cuts had already closed up. "He's darker than I remember," he said. "Went for the jugular fast. Went out of control. No jokes any more—that was his thing. Always with the quip. Always so light on his feet. He was out for blood."
"But you let him know…?"
"He was mad. A lot. I almost didn't get away."
May spun around to face Creed. "His webbing isn't part of him; it's a machine!" she snapped.
Creed raised an eyebrow at her. "What the hell?" he asked flatly.
"After he spent all that webbing trying to pin you to the wall he ran out on his left hand, and didn't shoot. I thought his body was replenishing it, but then when you ran he stopped and put a cartridge in—that's why I don't have any webbing powers!"
MJ frowned. This sparked a memory… a memory of wearing those bracelets, of firing webbing from her own wrists. Dear god, what sort of twisted relationship had she been in? She wasn't some kind of superman. She had no powers. Why on earth had he been letting her use his web shooting thingies?
She tried to cover, watching May. "So you think maybe his powers are more like yours?"
May shrugged. "They're still different, but they're not that different. I dunno. It was… he moves like me. I move by instinct, the way that feels right. Like a spider instead of a man. So does he. He crawls like me, jumps like me, hits like me. Watching him fight was… weird."
MJ tried to smile, but couldn't.
Creed snorted. "Yeah, you two are a regular pair of housewives, aint'cha? C'mon, Red. We got things we got to get done."
"What do you mean?"
"The Spider may be a bright and shiny hero losin` his halo, but he's never been stupid. Everybody knows if you go up against him he's got ways of tracking you down. Once you're tangled in him, he hangs on. Tenaciously. Most cities never quite get rid of supervillains, but New York? The Spider, he tends to be a big discouragement. Sure, new blood pops up all the time, but old-timers like me? We know. We got to move, find a new place. Ditch anything he could track us by."
MJ wasn't sure at all what that meant. "How could he track us? By smell?"
May shook her head. "I can't. I don't smell things very well—not the way Creed does."
Creed shrugged. "He's got ESP, you know. Dodges blows he can't see. How would I know how he tracks? He ain't entirely human, that one."
May twisted her neck, staring at the ceiling. "Huh."
"Yeah, I know. Creepifying," said Creed dismissively. "In case you missed it, you and me ain't exactly human either, are we?"
"He's here," said May.
Creed's eyes narrowed. "How could you know that?"
She shrugged. "I sense things. You know I'm like him, don't you? He followed us back here. This isn't right."
MJ thought about it. There was almost no way to avoid Peter drawing the wrong conclusions about this. The truth was too wild. And if May could sense a lie, he probably could too, so there was no point in lying.
She sighed. "Creed, stay here. May, take me to him."
May hesitated. "He's dangerous."
"Creed's dangerous. You're dangerous. We've drawn this masquerade out as far as we can. When he sees me, he'll know something's up. I'm supposed to be dead. Coming back from the dead… that's not something normal people do. That's something… that's…"
"It's something heroes and villains do," growled Creed. He sat down. "Go on, take yer time. Go try to talk the darkness out of him. But if you could do that, the devil wouldn't have sent you here, would he? Heh."
There were stairs that led up to the roof. Nice, normal stairs. MJ's mouth was suddenly dry. How could she possibly explain this so that he would understand? What could she say?
An idea occurred to her.
Once they were on the roof she whistled, loud and sharp, looking around. "We know you're there; come out!" she said.
He dropped out of the sky, landing lightly, as if the fall was nothing. As if he weighed nothing, was just a feather. He was wearing that costume, which left his whole body in sharp relief. Thin, muscular. His eyes were invisible, wide, white orbs, scowling at her.
"I thought you were dead," he said. He didn't sound like Peter Parker. She hadn't remembered this. Was this voice a put on? It was sarcastic and light. It was the Spider talking now.
She tried to smile, but it didn't come. Not even an actress' smile. "Peter."
He didn't flinch, to his credit. "Beg pardon?" he said, after a moment. She'd never told him she knew his secret, not in this reality. Not in the one the devil made.
"I'm not really the MJ you knew," she said cautiously. "I'm not really from this world. I come from a very different world—one where I knew your secrets. One where we were married. One where…" She turned slowly, facing May, who was hanging back. Oddly shy now that they were facing Peter.
He stared at May, his eyes narrowing. "That's… that's at least as odd as seeing you here. But if she were really mine, then…"
May shrugged. "I can do what you can do," she said softly. She moved backwards, to the door they'd come from, and casually started climbing it, her back to the door, sliding up the wall, clinging to it like a spider.
He made an odd noise in his throat.
"I know this must be… we must seem crazy, or like a trap, or… we're here to help. We had to come here when we heard."
He glared at her. "If you're from another reality… where's the Spider-man from my reality?"
She winced. "It's all very complicated. A jumbled mess. I know you aren't really the man I knew—you don't remember me, what we shared…" She left out that she barely remembered it herself.
He crossed his arms very slowly. "Why are you with Creed, then?" he asked coldly.
She winced. "He's not… he's dead here, isn't he? He came with us, he's a little bit… yes, he's a monster, I know, but I have him on a leash, and I needed to…"
"Why have him attack me, then?" His voice was so angry. She didn't remember all this anger within him.
May, who was hanging at the top of the door, slid to the ground. "Because we knew you'd be all suspicious, and thought maybe we could just lie to you, just let you think he was a bad guy, just let you know about those who are coming to kill you. Because they are. They're coming for blood, every one of them. You don't fit in their nice little plans, you aren't… you aren't what they want. And you'd have to kill them to stop them from killing you… and that would be just as bad as if you died, wouldn't it? You're one of the world's greatest heroes, and they want you a villain, one of them. Norman Osborn is going to break you if he can."
He ground his teeth together. "And you expect me to trust you?"
"No," said MJ sadly. "You can't trust us. That's why I tried to lie to you first—and I'm sorry for it, now. I should have known you'd figure it out too soon. I know you can't trust us—it's not smart. People from another world? We probably have some secret agenda we can't let you know about, or are secretly working against you, or any one of a million things that'll just get you killed and make you… look, that stuff Creed said, those enemies who are coming? Don't trust me, but prepare. Do something."
"Do what?" he asked stiffly.
May moved forward, past MJ. "Survive," she said roughly. "Whatever you would have done normally, no matter what… don't do it."
He bolted then. He crouched just a bit, a few inches, and then sprang. She'd seen him on TV before, knew he wasn't normal. And in her memories, she could remember once or twice seeing him defy physics. But both the TV and the other memories were fuzzy, staticy. Neither of them could capture this.
He simply exerted, pushing. But just like that, with incredible speed, he burst up, off the ground, up into the air. There was a faint sound, sharp.
Thwip.
Webs flowed from his arms, grabbing the buildings, and the descent arc of his high leap over her head turned into a longer arc, out into the night, crossing a whole city block in a single movement. And at the end of that she could see him firing again, moving faster, gaining speed as he went.
May spun to watch him go, smiling. "I want webs," she said. "Oh, I want webs!"
2.
After that the Spider dropped off the radar. Less web-swinging through town. Less heroics.
MJ worried. She fretted.
She could have found him at any time. Peter Parker had an address. A phone number. He was… teaching? That didn't sound right. What happened to photography?
Still, he was out there. He was public. She could find him at any time. He could come back here.
So why was she cooped up with Creed fretting while May went jumping from building top to building top, exploring this strange world?
She tucked herself in a corner of the room, on the floor. She hadn't been comfortable sleeping in the bed. It was in the middle of the room, exposed. Enemies could come from all sides. She needed to be in a corner, where she could be aware of somebody entering the room before they were aware of her.
Creed sat on the bed and thumbed through a dirty magazine, ignoring her. She knew he was going his own special brand of stir crazy—knew that his hunger for violence was strong. He was chewing at the end of his leash now, and if there was any way to throw off the devil's influence, he would find it.
"These fake Avengers…" she said softly. "What if you were to… to kill them?"
He grinned, reveling in the thought of that bloodshed. "That'd be fun."
"I mean… what are the consequences?"
He squinted at her like she was speaking in a foreign language. "Well, if I do it, your little boy-toy will know it was me, and he'll cotton on you're a tad dark," he admitted.
"I'm not like you!" she protested.
"Aren't you? Who brought up killing some good-guy heroes in order to save him?" demanded the monster, leering at her. "Shades of grey are a good color on you, Red. Downright sexy."
She shuddered. Appealing to Creed wasn't making her happy at all. "You're supposed to be some kind of hotshot assassin, right? Could you… do it so he didn't know it was you?"
"No," growled Creed. "ESP, remember? You sure you want to go down this road of what-if, Red?"
"What do you care?"
"I don't. But you do this, and he could come looking for you. Treat you as a villain. I'm supposed to be protecting you, here. He's tough enough that I might not be able to protect you."
The thought of Peter trying to hurt her was appalling. Unthinkable.
"What do you suggest we do, then?" she asked, unable to hold her despair in.
He grinned at her. "I'm new to this good-guy crap. I'd much rather just kill him and have done with it. That saves the world, doesn't it? Isn't that your number one priority?"
It wasn't. It hadn't been for some time. MJ was astonished to realize this, but it hadn't been what she was trying to do for a while. Saving Peter from death had been so much more important than saving him from himself.
She was playing into the devil's hands. Again. Save Aunt May, doom their marriage. Save Peter. Doom the world.
Lightbulbs went off in her head.
"May," she breathed out very slowly.
"Not due back for another hour. Want me to check the roof?" asked Creed, sure she meant her daughter.
She grinned at him. "Hold down the fort. Let her know where I am. I've got to go track down the one person who can make Peter see sense any day of the week."