A/N: This is a story that I've been working on for a while now, and I'm so excited to start to share it. I actually posted this same chapter a while ago, so a few lucky people out there will probably recognize it. But I took it down because I wanted to have more of the story complete first. I'm glad I did, because now I can guarantee something I've never been able to do: an update schedule! I'll be posting once a week.

This thing's a wild ride, so buckle up, and I hope you enjoy!

Peter swung wildly from web to web, whipping around buildings and spinning past street signs.

"I'm not too late," he muttered. "He's looking for me, and now I just have to hope that he hasn't gotten too far ahead…" his eyes whipped around, trying to spot what he was searching for. He gripped Mr. Fantastic's sonic blaster with his free hand.

Then, on the corner, he saw an old building with the windows busted in.

"Bingo."

Peter didn't stop to think before he swung in feet first, landing in a crouch on the glass-covered floor. The building looked abandoned, like something the city should have knocked down years ago, with stained walls and portions of its floor falling in.

He looked around, on edge for any movement or sound.

But there was no time to react between the time when the back of his neck prickled in warning and when something slammed into his back, careening him into the brick wall. The blaster went flying, his teeth rattled in his skull, and his head spun.

"Welcome to my neighborhood, Spider-Man," a voice hissed and spat, and when Peter's vision cleared he saw the menacing black form standing over him, mouth white and gaping. "Would you be… could you be… my neighbor?" A red tongue slithered through the air, and Peter narrowly avoided his next blow by rolling out of the way.

His heart was racing. God, this guy was obviously even more insane than he thought. Or was it the alien controlling him who was crazy? Either way, the guy was dangerous. Peter hoped his plan would work. He just needed the blaster… but it had fallen through one of the holes in the floor.

Damn it. Time to get chatty - he needed to distract this guy and get past him.

"Who are you?" he said, inching closer to the hole in the floor.

The creature grinned. "I am Venom."

"Yeah, I'm not stupid. I've heard that much. But I'm also not talking to you. I'm talking to whatever poor soul you've infected."

The bright eyes narrowed, and Venom paced slowly back and forth in front of him. "Well, Spider-Man, we are not different. We are we."

"You're crazy, is what you are," Peter shot back, still slowly moving towards the sonic gun. "And whatever you've got planned is ending right here."

"That's right," Venom said, his face twisting insanely. "Because you're ending here."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Peter said shortly, finally twisting to slide through the hole and down to the floor below.

The blaster was right there!

He reached out, grabbed it - and found himself pinned to the wall by one massive black hand.

The breath was knocked out of Peter's lungs as he took in Venom's face, the tongue hovering uncomfortably close to his mask. He struggled, but Venom just pushed back harder, his grip on Peter's neck increasing.

"Stop your squirming," Venom snarled.

"Whoever's in there," Peter said desperately. The gun was in his hands, and he'd use it if he had to. But if he could save one more person, he might as well try. "Come on, just snap out of it! Fight it!"

"There is no fighting," Venom said, squeezing harder. Peter used his free hand to try and pry himself free, choking on breath. "We will show you."

Peter's eyes widened as Venom's face began to move - to part, and there was something underneath… another face!

He paused in shock, breath coming short. But that was… "Eddie Brock!" he gasped.

Brock's smile was just as twisted as Venom's. "Ah, so you recognize me. Seen my picture in the paper?"

Peter couldn't believe his eyes. Eddie used to write pieces on superheroes for the Globe, and had been on television channels as an expert commentator. He'd even spoken with him before as Spider-Man. How could he… Venom had left behind people dead and dying -

"It's your fault we have to kill you," Brock said as Peter continued to struggle. "It's your fault we're doing this."

"Why?" Peter said, desperately trying to keep Eddie's eyes on him. Hopefully out of sight, he slowly raised the blaster to be level with Venom's chest. "How - How could what you've done possibly be my fault!"

"It's because of you I ever even met Venom." Eddie's eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. "Truthfully, we'll kill you for it, and then we'll thank you for it. With you gone, we'll be free to do justice our way."

"Your way - isn't - justice!" Peter spat. The blaster was finally aimed to fire, and he went to pull the trigger.

The black slime that made up Venom slammed shut over Eddie's face. Faster than Peter could track, the creature grabbed the blaster from his hand, crumpled it, and threw it across the room.

"No!" Peter yelled. Fear and anger fueled him, and he finally broke free from Venom's grip. He spun away, landing heavily on his side.

"There's no stopping us, Spidey," Venom sang.

Peter pushed himself to his feet and dove for the blaster. A strange noise was coming from it, like a high whine, and he could almost see energy spiking around it.

Oh, god.

The thing was going to explode.

Peter grabbed the device in his hands and looked up at Venom, who was approaching slowly, black matter writhing. He could feel the pressure building in that spot at the back of his head, and knew that the moment was approaching.

Peter knew what he had to do, and there was no way he could avoid the fallout. If he left the building, Venom would follow. It was safer to do it there in the abandoned building - somewhere no one else would get hurt.

But his heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel sweat dripping down his face under the mask.

He was scared. Scared of what he needed to do.

Unfortunately, there was no other choice.

The whine the blaster was giving off rose in frequency, enough that even Venom stopped to listen.

"No - What is happen -" Venom said, but he was cut off as the pain in Peter's neck rose to a crescendo.

Peter threw the blaster at Venom, and the whole world exploded around them.

.

.

.

There was noise, so much noise, and light, and pain. Through the haze, he saw the black ooze that was Venom expand and fly away from Brock; heard their pained screams.

The building collapsed around him, and he felt himself falling through the air. Then he slammed to the ground, and the rubble slammed on top of him.

Somewhere in there, his vision turned dark, and he was lost to unconsciousness.

Peter's head pounded as he came around, and his eyes blinked open against a bright white room. He screwed up his face and groaned as the light pierced his skull.

"Look who's awake," a familiar voice said by his side. He turned to look, and couldn't help the smile that tugged across his face. Yeah, he was on the good drugs.

"MJ," Peter said, and his voice was quieter than he expected. At first he only felt the warmth of familiarity. Then, as he looked closer, he saw that she looked tired, and sad. Her face was drawn, and her hair was tied back messily behind her head. "You… okay?"

MJ looked away, and then back again with a sigh. "Just… go back to sleep, Peter."

He shook his head. "But I'm awake," he protested.

Her words were clipped. "Well, you shouldn't be awake, you should be asleep. You were hurt."

When Peter frowned, he felt the skin pull against a cut on his forehead. There was something in her voice - but he couldn't pinpoint what. His head was too fuzzy. "Are you… mad?"

A stray lock of hair brushed his ear as she leaned forwards and cupped his jaw with her hand. Her eyes locked with his when she said softly, "I'm glad you're safe, Peter. And I love you, okay?" Her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth.

"That's not… that's not an answer," he slurred.

"Peter, really. Go to sleep." MJ leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.

He didn't want to, but found his eyes closed of their own accord, and before he knew it he was being swept away into a dreamless sleep.

The next time his eyes opened, it was to an empty room.

Peter recognized it now - it was the New Avengers' Tower recovery ward. He'd seen the inside of it plenty of times before. For some illogical reason, some big brain had decided to make it almost perfectly white - which always magnified his headaches with the brightness. But it was certainly recognizable.

He remembered being awake before, but his memories were foggy. He wasn't sure if he had been awake more times than the once. His head was much clearer now, so they must have taken him off the hard drugs. That meant his healing factor had kicked in. He probably had that to thank for the mitigated headache.

The windows showed a dark sky beyond. MJ had probably gone home to sleep - she had never liked the New Avengers Tower, prefering to return to their own apartment when he had to stay nights to recover. He didn't blame her - he didn't like it much either. It reminded him too much of what was different now, and how things had changed.

Peter reached up a hand to touch his forehead, and felt the heavy bandage there.

Suddenly, his eyes widened as it all came back to him - tracking Venom, the fight, the explosion, and the building collapse. Being buried under rubble, trapped and dark -

He shook his head, then flinched as the motion gave him a flash of pain.

But, what had happened to Venom? He remembered the blaster exploding, and had seen the alien parasite separate from Eddie Brock's body in a black ooze. But Peter hadn't secured either of them. Had they gotten free? What had happened after he had been knocked out? Surely Eddie had been trapped in the wreckage as well, but they could have reformed - they could have escaped.

He sat up, ignoring the angry sounds of the equipment behind him. He had to know what happened. If Venom was still out there, there were still people in danger.

Another noise, different from the medical equipment, sounded through the room, and he turned to see his phone vibrating on the bedside table. When he saw the caller ID, he relaxed a little. Now maybe he could get answers.

Peter picked up the phone and answered the call, and Tony Stark's face filled the screen. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tony cut him off.

"Peter, you better not be getting out of bed. You are not allowed to leave that room."

He blinked. "Hello to you, too," he said.

"I'm serious! Get back in bed - now."

Peter rolled his eyes, but sat back in the bed anyways. "Geez, okay. Calm down."

Tony rolled his eyes right back. "Before you say anything, I know what you're going to ask. Yes, the freak you were fighting -"

"Venom," Peter supplied.

A shrug. "Whatever, they're all the same to me now. But you got him, okay? The Fantastic Four have him locked up. Both of them. The guy, Brock, is headed to Ryker's, and whatever the hell that thing was that possessed him is being contained by the Foursome and it'll be sent to the Raft soon. And there were no new people hurt. Besides you, anyway. You don't need to worry about it, it's over," he finished.

Peter sighed in relief, and leaned back even further into the pillows. "Oh, thank god. If he had gotten away because I let myself get knocked out…"

Tony shot him an incredulous look. "Are you serious? Are you always on a crusade to make everything your fault?"

Peter frowned. "What do you mean? Venom was looking for me - I'm the whole reason he was causing mayhem in the streets!"

"That doesn't make it your fault, Pete. But… let's not talk about that now, I don't have the energy to convince you."

"Oh," Peter said, noticing the time. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

Tony shook his head. "No, you're good. I was awake reading - I wouldn't have noticed the alert that you were trying to get up otherwise."

Peter blinked. "You have alerts on my bed?"

"Yeah, dummy. What, did you think I was psychic or something?"

He shrugged, smiling. "Sure feels that way sometimes."

Tony huffed a laugh. "Well, I'm not. But - glad to see you're feeling better. May called me earlier when you were still passed out, and you didn't look too hot." The words sounded light, but Peter sensed he had really scared Tony.

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's what 10 tons of rubble will do to you."

Tony frowned, unamused. "Don't joke around, Peter. None of us like to see you hurt."

"I know," Peter replied quickly. "I'm sorry. But… May was here? I remember MJ earlier, but not her."

"Yeah, she was with you last night."

Wait… "Last night?" He asked, confused. "What day is it? How long have I been here?"

A sigh. "You've been in the recovery ward for three days. Apparently your healing factor shut you down to fix your head." He pointed at Peter. "But just because you feel alright doesn't mean you can leave - and I'm not afraid to tell Bruce to get down there and strap you down, so don't try anything."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't."

"Famous last words."

"Really! I mean, Venom's taken care of… and I'm tired," Peter admitted. "I could probably use a break."

Tony looked concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

Peter gave him a soft smile. "Yeah. It's just been a long week. You… go to bed. I don't want to keep you. I'm headed back to sleep myself."

"Alright. Love you, Pete. Take care of yourself, okay? Try not to land in the hospital again before I come to visit next month."

"Deal," Peter replied. "Good night."

One last smile, and Tony hung up, leaving Peter to look at his own face in the reflection from his phone. He didn't look great - his hair was greasy, his face still a little bruised. Hopefully by the time he woke in the morning, he'd feel even better.

Plus, he wanted to see MJ. He couldn't remember exactly what she'd said earlier, but she had sounded… off. He wanted to make sure she was alright.

He put his phone aside and settled back down in the bed. It took a minute, but he managed to drift away again…

When his eyes blinked open again, May was by his side, reading a book. Sun poured in from the window.

She looked up with a smile when she noticed he was moving around. "Peter! Morning, sleepyhead."

His voice was thick with sleep when he replied, "Mornin', May." He reached up a hand to rub his eyes, and yawned. "W' time is it?"

May closed her book and set it on the side table. "It's about eleven," she said.

"Oh, good," he said wryly. "Still actually morning, then." He looked around. The white room was empty save for May. "Is MJ around?"

"I think she went to work today," May said. "But, they're letting you leave tonight, so you'll see her then."

He frowned. "It's just… she's usually here."

May put a hand on his knee. "She was here while you were asleep, honey. And you know she can't take too many days off - she's got that strict boss."

Peter shrugged, feeling guilty. "Yeah, I know. Sorry."

She squeezed his leg. "Nothing to apologize for, Peter. Now, you want something to eat?"

On cue, his stomach growled. He chuckled. "Yes, please."

"Alright. I'll go and grab something, and tell Rachel you're awake." Rachel was one of the nurses that worked at the Tower. "Why don't you give MJ a call while I'm gone?"

Peter nodded and pushed himself further up. "Sounds good. Thanks, May."

She smiled and gave him one last squeeze before she stood and left the room.

Peter grabbed his phone from the table, and scrolled to his most recent calls. Just below Tony was Michelle Jones. He tapped her name and brought the phone to his ear. As it rang, he wondered if she would even pick up. It was probably an awkward time to call - not quite lunch, but too soon before it for a break.

Sure enough, her voicemail came over the speaker.

"You've reached Michelle Jones. I can't answer the phone right now, so please leave a message or send a text. Thanks."

Peter inhaled just as the tone went off, and then forced his voice to be cheerful as he said, "Hi MJ! Just wanted to let you know that I'm awake, and feeling a lot better. I'll be home by tonight. Love you!"

After hanging up, he looked through his list of most recent calls. Almost all of them were with Tony and May. A few of them were with Ned - his friend was currently out of the country, exploring and staying with extended family in the Philippines. He and MJ mostly texted, or just talked in person, so there weren't that many between them.

Peter was excited to see her. She always managed to settle him, after experiences like this. She reminded him of who he was as a person, and not just as Spider-Man.

They had been officially dating for two years now, and living together in the year since they graduated from college. They had a little one bedroom apartment in Ridgewood, Queens. It wasn't a very good location for either of them, since he and MJ both commuted to Midtown for work. But, it was what they could afford (they had never accepted the offers of money from Tony), and it was decent as places went. Plus, it was relatively close to May, and it was worth it to live with MJ. He was grateful for what they had.

The door opened, distracting him from his thoughts, and the nurse - Rachel, a pretty woman with cropped brown hair - walked in.

"Morning, Peter," she said, shifting her clipboard under her arm. "You're looking a lot better. Are you feeling better?"

Peter put his phone down, and nodded. "Totally. My head's barely hurting now."

Rachel smiled. "That's good to hear. You should be grateful for that healing factor of yours - you'd have to rack up a lot more time here, otherwise."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I'm sure you'd be sick of me. If you're not already."

"Never," she replied graciously. "Now, we're letting you go home tonight, but we'll be sending you away with some pain meds. You should take them every four to six hours. Of course, if the pain gets worse, or you experience persistent nausea, give us a call."

"Yeah, of course."

She raised an eyebrow. "I know you've heard this before, but just bear with me."

Peter laced his fingers together and looked attentive. "I'm listening."

"Head injuries are nothing to scoff at, as I'm sure you know. So don't push through the pain if it gets worse - admit it if you feel it, alright?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'll leave you be until you check out. But - did you want something to eat?"

"My aunt's grabbing some food now," Peter replied. The door opened. "Oh, speak of the devil."

May walked in, balancing a tray of food. "Sorry, who's the devil? The woman who's bringing you breakfast in bed?" She saw the nurse. "Oh, hey Rachel."

"Hi, May. I was just passing on the information to Peter," Rachel said, turning for the door. "I'll be back in a few hours to let you go, okay?"

"Sounds good!" Peter called after her. Then he grabbed the table and spun it so it hung over the bed, and accepted the food May had brought. "Thanks, Aunt May. Sorry you have to watch me in the hospital again."

She took the seat next to his bed. "It's not my favorite thing to do, I'll admit - I just don't like to see you hurt. But I love you, Peter. I'll always be here." She ruffled his hair affectionately, then looked down at her hand as she drew it back. "Whew, you got some greasy hair, kid. Better take a shower as soon as you get home."

He laughed. "For sure. Love you too, May."

Then he grabbed a fork and set to filling his empty stomach.

When May dropped him off on the curb outside his apartment building, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the street. He thanked her one last time with a kiss on the cheek, and promised to call her tomorrow, and to be over for dinner next Sunday. Then he stepped out and watched her drive away.

He was so grateful to have May. She had always supported him, and cared for him, no matter what, and he would forever be indebted to her for that. Today was only the latest example. He thought he should do something special for her soon - maybe for Thanksgiving, or her birthday. He'd make it a good one this year, to say thanks for everything.

His key jangled in the lock on their door, and he entered the apartment to a dimly lit kitchen.

They had a small one bedroom apartment that could have been the same size as one of Tony's old walk in closets. It had enough living space in front to shove in a loveseat and a TV, and the kitchen consisted of a fridge, stove, and sink - no counter space at all. Not that he or MJ ever really did any cooking. They lived in New York, for God's sake.

So the place was small, but it was homey, and there was heat, and water. They had what they needed.

"MJ?" he called out into the apartment. But he knew after only a moment that no one was there. The door closed behind him, and the sound echoed through the room.

Had she gotten caught up at work? Had her train broken down? She wasn't usually this late coming home.

Peter shrugged and dropped his bag on the couch before making his way to the bathroom. This would give him a chance to get clean before MJ got home. Then he wouldn't smell like three days of sweat and hospital.

When he stepped out of the shower, the mirror was foggy, and he felt like a new man. His head was still pounding a bit, so he took the prescribed pain meds.

Then, just on time, he heard the front door open. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out, a soft smile on his face.

MJ had her back to him, and was putting her purse down on their little dining table. Peter stepped forwards. "Hey, MJ," he said.

She turned around suddenly. "Ah, Peter!" She shook her head. "Geez, you scared me." Then, after a moment she chuckled softly and stepped into his arms. "You look better."

Peter put a hand on the back of her head and brought her close. "I feel better," he said. "Sorry for scaring you again. Just now and… you know."

She looked up at him, a tired smile on her face. "I should be used to it by now."

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

MJ sighed. "Yeah. Just… tired." She stepped back and took a few steps towards the kitchen. "Do you need dinner?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. I'm starving. Should we order take out?" It was kind of a tradition of theirs - getting takeout and watching a movie on the nights he came back home from the hospital.

"I do have some leftovers in here," she hedged, looking in the fridge. "But I guess they'll keep until tomorrow." She tossed him a look. "Chinese?"

Peter smiled. "Definitely. With lots of spring rolls."

"Got it. But can you call? I'm gonna take a shower."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Want me to join you? I just got out."

"Oh, I couldn't tell," she said sarcastically. "I'll just be quick, okay? Call for food and choose a movie." She brushed his shoulder with hers as she passed by him to get to the bathroom.

Peter changed into a pair of pajama pants and a fresh t-shirt, and grabbed his phone to call for food. Deciding on the movie was trickier, but soon enough Close Encounters was queued to play on their TV.

He sat down on the couch for a minute and listened to the sounds of MJ in the shower. She seemed fine - normal. Like nothing was wrong. Peter would think that meant that whatever she might have been feeling before, she was past it. Or maybe his drug hazed mind had imagined things.

But then - it was almost like she was being too normal. Like it was any other day, and he had just gotten back from work, and not from the hospital.

Peter shook his head. He was thinking about this too much.

Everything was fine. Venom was taken care of, and he was surrounded by people who cared about him.

What could go wrong?