A/N: Thank you for the FANTASTIC reviews, reaers. Chances are, you've all read countless "Thank you for the reviews" messages, so I'll stop there. I hope you all like this next part as much as the first two. Enjoy.



Chapter Three







At the same time that Peter was sitting in the cemetery next to his grave, Norman Osborn paced in a basement laboratory of Oscorp. Once again, he was arguing with the voice inside his head.


The Goblin had wanted to kill Peter and the girl in one fell swoop. The girl wasn't as important, she was just a matter of revenge and pride. But Peter…he hadn't gotten there quick enough, and had thrown the bomb just as they were leaving, rather than when they were in the building. There was no doubt now that Peter knew they were alive, and the Goblin was furious at Osborn. He was convinced that Osborn had caused him to miss on purpose. Osborn denied it, but he wasn't so sure it wasn't true. "I still don't understand why we can't just leave him alone and go about our business without alerting him. It's a lot easier now that people think we're dead."


No. You're wrong twice. He already knows we're alive. I didn't leave much room for argument. And people don't think I'm dead, they think you're dead. You forget, only Peter knows who I am. And now, thanks to you, he'd going to know I'm alive no matter what we do! By sabotaging my plan, not only did you alert him but, you've sealed his fate! We have to kill him now!


Norman ran a hand over his face and through his disheveled hair. "But I don't think it's necessary."


Too much for your stomach? Don't have the guts? The Goblin cackled. Don't worry, you won't remember any of it afterward.


Norman pressed his fingers to his temples and turned to face the mask he'd propped up in a chair. He hated it when the Goblin taunted him about being weak. He, who had always prided himself on his strength. "No, that's not it," he growled through clenched teeth. "I just don't see why we have to do it."


Because now that he knows I'm alive, he'll be coming after us.


Norman nodded, seeing it was futile to argue. The Goblin was right, anyway. Norman was growing stronger, understanding more of what the Goblin did and said. Norman had come to realize the Goblin was stronger than he ever was, never letting emotions get in the way, never hesitating. No wonder he was superhuman.


He's also an evil monster who's caused pain to many.


Norman pushed the annoying thought away. He nodded again. "All right. We'll do it."


Finally grew a gut, Osborn? I'm glad. But this time, we do it differently. This time, no dancing around it. No more of this corny supervillain crap. This time, we go right for the kill.


The insane laughter rose inside of Norman as he left the laboratory.




The late afternoon sun was sinking in the sky, and the warmth was dying along with the day. A cold wind blew through the cemetery, one of the first winter winds. The super hero sat, shocked, letting the news sink in.


The Green Goblin was back.


He stared at nothing, eyes wide as he chewed on his thumbnail, a habit from when he was a kid. It wouldn't have been so bad if the man hadn't come back from the dead. If it was just some nut out there, he wouldn't have needed to figure out how to kill someone who had already died.


What could he do? There were a million places the goblin could hide in NYC. There was so much pain he could cause. Peter's stomach sank as he thought of the destruction he had already created. Obviously, the goblin had found the glider. Peter had to admit, he hadn't been very good at hiding it. Now that he thought of it, he wasn't sure why he hadn't destroyed it. A stupid mistake. One that may cost lives.


Peter gazed up at the sky, with the irrational thought the Goblin may be up there. Empty.


Another thought suddenly came to mind, one that made Peter spring to his feet. Supposing he went after MJ again?


Peter's stomach twisted as he thought of the near miss that had occurred that very morning. A warning, most likely. The Goblin's twisted way of playing with Peter.


Cat and mouse.


That would explain the strange feeling Peter had had lately. The feeling of being watched. It must have happened only a few days ago. He'd been at the cemetery two days before, so it couldn't have happened long after that.


Peter hurried out of the cemetery, glancing at his watch. Six o'clock, MJ should be leaving work soon.


No, she was working that night. That was why she'd had the audition during the day.


She was home alone.


Peter glanced around, searching for a pay phone. He sifted through his pockets for a quarter and came up with an assortment of nickels, pennies, and a dime.


Counting out his change, he jammed the money into the slot, shoving the rest of it back in his pocket. First he dialed MJ's number.


"Hello?"


"Hi MJ, I was just calling to see how you are. Are you all right now?"


"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little shaken. How's your burn?"


Peter eyes were drawn back to the sky. "It's a lot better. Anyway, I was going to come over to see if you're all right. Would…would that be OK?"


She chuckled at his shy request. "Yeah, yeah, that would be great."


"OK. I'll see you in a little while. Bye!"


He pushed down the hang up lever and shoveled more change into the machine. He
dialed his own number, and the answering machine picked up. Harry must have gone out.


"Hey Harry...."




The Goblin smoothly flew in Peter's open window and leapt off his glider. Landing silently, his gaze swept the room. Empty.


Moving swiftly through the room, he went to the top of the stairs, listening for any sounds of life. None met his ears. He had come for one reason, and that was to kill Peter. Never mind how he did it.


He was starting down the stairs when the phone rang. The answering machine picked up.


"Hey, it's Harry and Peter, leave your message at the tone and if you're lucky, we'll call you back."


Beep.


"Hey, Harry, it's Peter. Sorry about running out before like that, but I had something important to do. I'm at the cemetery right now, and I'm gonna head over to...to MJ's, if you're wondering where I am. I should be back later, probably tonight, so don't worry. See you later."


Beep.


The Goblin stood for a moment on the stairs, marveling at how perfect life could be sometimes.


"Hello?"


The Goblin started. Harry's voice. He'd thought no one was home. Why didn't he pick up the phone?


"Hello? Who's there?"


Footsteps were coming to the stairs. The Goblin silently turned and went back upstairs, despite the feelings of sorrow and pain trying to cut through him, feelings from Osborn. Feelings that had awakened at the sound of his son's voice.


Shoving the useless emotions away, he returned to Peter's room, concentrating on the matters at hand. Stepping onto his glider, he savored how much fun this would be.
And how brilliant the simplest plans were.




Harry stepped into Peter's room and glanced around. He'd felt….he didn't know what he'd felt. It was as though someone was there. Not a stranger, however. A familiar presence.


His gaze swept the room.


Empty.




Peter strode away from the cemetery, walking quickly. It was a long walk to MJ's apartment and he didn't have the money for a cab ride.


As he walked swiftly, he narrowed down the possible places the Goblin could be hiding. He couldn't possibly be at the Osborn mansion. It would be a little hard to miss.


A thought struck him. It was very possible he didn't need to narrow down. He'd just hit on the perfect place.


The Oscorp buildings.


It was perfect. There were probably a lot of empty labs now, and it was where Mr. Osborn had worked. That's where he was, Peter was sure of it.


Raising a hand, Peter jogged across the street, ignoring the people leaning on their horns and calling him a wide range of names.


Now he faced the dilemma of what he was going to do if he found the Goblin there. Kill him? Again? What's to say he won't come back again?


Talk to him? About what? Peter smiled faintly at the mental image. "Hi, Mr. Osborn, how're you doing? I thought you were dead. What's that? You want to kill me?"


Best bet was to probably kill him before it got too out of control. A sinking in his stomach answered that solution. Walking in and killing someone right off the bat was something Peter had never really had to contemplate before. It seemed so…cold blooded. What do they call it? Premeditated murder?


As he jogged around a corner, his face creased with a new worry. What happened if Harry went to the cemetery and saw the hole in the ground with an empty coffin?


Yeah, Harry, you're dad's a whacked out supervillain who just returned from the dead.
And I'm Spiderman. That's right, the guy that killed him.



Even if he killed the Goblin, then what? Take him back to the cemetery, rebury him, hope nobody thinks Peter's getting rid of murder evidence and then wait around to see if he ever rises again?


Suddenly, the hair on Peter's arms and the back of his neck rose. Icy fingers danced down his spine and his instincts screamed.


Peter slowly turned, knowing beyond a doubt what was making his spider sense go nuts.


The Green Goblin was maneuvering through the air towards him at a shocking speed. Peter's eyes widened. It was as though he had stepped right out of Peter's thoughts. Peter had always had a sick fascination with the way the Goblin moved with a deadly kind of grace, and now it stuck out to him more than ever. He was like a metallic angel of death coming, coming always for Peter.


The mask's eye visors were up. Peter's gaze met his, and he could see the hatred dancing in those eyes. Subtle changes came over Peter, eyes hardening, brow setting, shoulders rolling back. He was becoming Spiderman. Time slowed for a moment as the hero and the villain locked gazes, hot blue eyes against cold brown eyes.


The visors snapped down, and the Goblin let out his first cackle, speeding up. Peter shivered. The cackle was enough for Peter. It was definitely the same Goblin.


As time returned to normal pace for Peter, he noticed the Green Goblin was about to take his head off. Peter broke through his paralysis and leapt out of the way. The Goblin blew past, laughing the whole way.


People around began to notice the crazed lunatic flying through the streets and cried out in fear. Some ran. A woman shrieked as he passed within inches of her head. A group of teenage guys rode alongside the Goblin in their preppy BMW and rolled down the window, cheering and laughing. Peter groaned.


The Green Goblin circled around behind them. Peter's eyes widened as the Goblin tossed a bomb at the car.


It hit the hood of the car and bounced, rolling into the middle of the street. A few moments later, it exploded, and Peter instinctively threw his arms in front of his face, stepping back. He could feel the heat from where he stood. The explosion sent a passing car onto its side. The car slid across the lanes, metal screeching against the road, into a few other parked cars. Oncoming vehicles swerved to avoid the sliding hunk of metal. They crashed into one another, horns blaring, and people staggered from the wreckage.


Peter watched in horror as the Goblin howled with laughter at the pandemonium. Once again, he turned back to gaze at Peter. They looked at each other for a moment, and the goblin shouted a challenge. "The race is on, Spiderman!"


A second later, he rose into the sky, leaving his wake of destruction. Peter took a moment to realize what he meant and gasped. He began to run after the Goblin, eyes on the glider. Peter desperately sprinted, pulling at the air with his arms, as though he was swimming.


Peter realized this was no way to win the "race", and slowed, gazing from side to side. Turning sharply, he cut into an alley, and leaped, grabbing hold of the wall and pulling himself up. No time to change into the costume. Praying no one would recognize his face, he climbed the wall rapidly.


Peter leapt from the top of a window sill on the tenth floor of the building and caught
hold of the roof. He made a mad dash to the edge of the roof and jumped to the next. Leaping from building to building, he drew closer to MJ's apartment, eyes constantly searching for the villain. Pausing on the edge of a roof a few blocks from his destination, Peter scanned the air around him, panting with exhaustion.


Where is he, where is he!?



The Goblin was blowing past him as he watched, turbines roaring, and Peter shot a strand of web after him. He flew through the darkening sky, webbing from building to building. Instinct took over, adrenaline flooding his body in a dizzying rush as he flowed through the air. Rather than the familiar feeling of freedom, fear and dread powered him on. He was still falling behind. Despite the fact that he moved quickly, the Goblin was flying in a straight line, whereas Spiderman swung from side to side.


By pure instinct, he shot right at the glider and caught the back of it, web snagging a sharp edge. Holding onto the web with one hand, he gripped the corner of the building he was sticking to, intent on stopping the glider in mid air.
Mistake.


The glider reached the end of its tether and the line snapped taught, yanking Peter right off the building. It appeared his weight did not exceed the weight of the Goblin and the glider.


His shoulder screamed with pain at almost being ripped out of its socket, and his fingers were scraped raw. The glider lurched with the new weight, throwing its rider off balance. Peter lunged with his free hand for the web, getting a better grip.


Spiderman was now flying behind the glider like a kite. The wind and the engine roared in his ears. Squinting against the cold rush of air, he clenched the web tighter. The Goblin twisted to look back at the sudden decrease in speed and snarled when he saw he what he was dragging.


Despite his better judgment, Spiderman let go with one hand and tried to fire a thick strand of web at a wall. The Goblin immediately began to zigzag the glider sharply through the air, causing his passenger to snap back and forth on the end of his line. The arm Spiderman had let go with flopped helplessly.


Peter's eyes widened in panic as he struggled to hold on to the snapping, twisting web. The Goblin had pulled the glider into a tight, continuous turn, and Peter's one handed grip was slipping. Grabbing frantically with his free hand, Peter snagged the web. It probably would have been better just to let go and grab onto a building or shoot for another one, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. Besides, the way the Goblin was twisting through the air, the turbulence would have shot him right into a wall.
Peter began to inch his way up the web, one hand over the other, pulling himself up to the glider. He had to get off the web, it was going to snap at any moment. Biting his lip, muscles bulging, he struggled against the wind. He was almost there…three arms lengths…two…


Just as he was an arm's length from the back of the glider, the Goblin threw it into another sharp turn, causing Peter's burnt hand to fly off the web. Rapidly, he began to slide back down the web. Crying out at the burn of the web scraping the flesh right off his hand, he lunged for the glider, groping for an edge to get a grip on. Face screwed up with the effort, grunting, Peter stretched, and finally got a grip on the slippery metal. He abandoned the web and grabbed the back of the glider with his other hand. He hooked an arm around the Goblin's left leg and yanked hard.


The Goblin dropped hard to one knee as Peter pulled his leg out from under him. The glider wobbled through the air as Peter viciously yanked him back, trying to slide him right off the back of it. As the glider tipped dangerously backwards with the extra weight, both Spiderman and the Goblin scrambled to get a hold on it. Peter kept trying to use the Goblin as a ladder, and the Goblin kept trying kick Peter in the face. As Peter dodged one of these vicious kicks, he started to pull himself up onto the glider, yanking his head back out of the way of the Goblin's back handed swing.


Growling, the Goblin turned halfway around, intent on getting Peter off. Peter, however, noticed that since the Goblin's attention was focused mainly on him, the glider was flying freely, taking its own course.


"Hey!" Peter managed to yell, pointing with his chin. The Goblin reflexively half turned, and noticed the building rushing towards them. He angled the glider sharply as best he could on one knee, rolling it almost onto its side, and they almost cleared the building.
Almost, but as the glider rolled, the edge of the left wing brushed it. Had they been going sloewr, it probably wouldn't have mattered much. But at that high speed, even the slightest obstruction in the path would affect them greatly.


The glider fishtailed, spinning away from the building. Both Spiderman and the Green Goblin were suddenly in danger of being thrown off as the glider wobbled and spun. Peter clutched the back of the glider for dear life, knuckles white, and the Goblin gripped both wings tightly. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the roller coaster ride to stop, trying to calm his sickened stomach. He gritted his teeth and his eyes popped open as they continued to spin. "Make it stop!" he screamed at the Goblin.


"What the hell do you think I'm doing?!" The Goblin roared back.


Despite the fact that Peter's weight was disrupting the Goblin's steering and concentration, he managed to take the glider out of the turn into a straight path. Releasing his death grip on the much slowed glider, he began to pick up speed again. Peter used the momentary distraction and decrease in speed to try to swing himself up onto the glider, anchoring one knee against it.


The glider suddenly spun again, into a dizzying three hundred and sixty degree turn, but this time on purpose. The buildings and surroundings of the city whirled crazily around Peter, and he shut his eyes against the kaleidoscope of images going by, stomach rising again. He clenched the sweeping edges of the glider, but the sharp turn had made his own weight a problem. Just when he thought it was over, the Goblin whirled it into another full spin, back the other way this time.


When it stopped the second time, Peter used a burst of strength to get the other knee on the glider. He balanced precariously behind the Goblin. Trouble was, now that Peter was kneeling with his fingers stuck to each wing, he had freed his enemy's leg. The Goblin wasted no time in standing again, and his boot locked into place with an audible click.


MJ's apartment was a block away. The Goblin was heading straight for it, and Peter heard a roar as a weapon attached to the belly of the glider powered up. Peter slowly got to his feet, making a club with his fists, rolling them together. He slammed them down with all his might, squarely between the Goblin's shoulder blades, almost sending the villain to his knees. Peter heard a gasping sound from beneath the grinning mask as the Goblin struggled to breath. The glider teetered off course as its rider reeled under Peter's fists, and the missile that had been powering up discharged into a building, exploding in a huge ball of fire and smoke. Relief and anguish tore at Peter. It wasn't MJ's apartment, but people were likely to have died, once again because Peter hadn't been quick enough.


No time for regrets now. The Goblin was turning the glider back to MJ's building, and
another missile was powering.




MJ was sitting on her couch, pretending to read a magazine. She didn't know who she was pretending for, but she wanted to feel like she wasn't waiting almost breathlessly for Peter's arrival. She felt like an elementary school girl again, waiting to meet a boy she liked.


Looking at her watch, she sighed. It had been fifteen minutes since Peter called. She snapped the magazine shut and tossed it on the table. Who was she kidding?
Sighing again, she closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to kiss Peter again. That day in the cemetery…that moment when they had kissed, MJ had known, known beyond any doubt that Peter was the one for her. From that one kiss she had known.
She opened her eyes, frowning for a moment. One kiss? Had it only been one? She could have sworn…no, she would definitely remember kissing Peter. It had felt familiar, though, that day in the cemetery…like they had kissed more than once. She couldn't place the feeling. Shrugging it off, she tilted her head back.


Closing her eyes again, she imagined what it would feel like to have Peter's arms around her.




Peter desperately threw his arms around the Goblin's chest under his arms, hugging him from behind. He threw all his weight to the left, pulling the glider into a turn by steering the Goblin himself. The glider twisted drunkenly through the air as it tried to heed its master's directions and Peter's at the same time. The Goblin finally succeeded, but Peter threw his weight to the right and then the left again, yanking him back and forth as though in a demented dance. The second missile missed as well, exploding in a different building.


The Goblin snapped his head back, trying to hit Peter in the face, missing by an inch. He twisted Peter's hands apart, but Peter immediately slithered out of his grasp and threw his arms around the Goblin's neck in a choke hold, trying to pull him over backwards. The villain bent forward, tugging Spiderman, who was shorter than him, off his feet. Spiderman kicked, trying to touch back down, but couldn't without releasing his hold. Grunting with the effort, the Goblin twisted and rolled Spiderman easily forward, over his right shoulder. With a burst of strength and effort, he flipped Spiderman over his shoulder and off the glider.


Two instincts pulled at Spiderman. One was screaming that he would fall to his death. The other, more sensible one was telling him to shoot a web.


Neither would win the fight.


A green armored hand caught Spiderman's before he could completely escape. The Goblin clenched Peter's burnt hand tighter, twisting, wrenching, breaking…


Crying out as things inside his hand began to crack, Peter twisted his hand in the grip. The Goblin cackled at the pitiful whimpering sound, raising Peter into the air so he was looking at him on eye level. He looked straight into his eyes for a moment, then threw a powerful punch into Peter's stomach. The air left his lungs with a whoosh, and Peter croaked pathetically, strength taken by that one powerful punch. He had never, ever been hit that hard in his entire life. He did not remember the Goblin being that strong, not at all. Peter had seen the punch coming and had hardened his stomach muscles against it, but still…it had hurt a lot more than he had thought it would.


To Peter's great relief, the Goblin released his broken hand, but reached for Peter's throat instead. Spiderman tried to suck in all the air he could as he felt the hand close around his throat. Peter unleashed a mighty punch, catching the Goblin squarely across the jaw. It was a punch that would dislocate a jaw, or break a nose. The Goblin seemed not to notice it at all. Surely his armor alone wouldn't have made him immune. Peter knew that he had given his share of beatings to the Goblin. The Goblin was not impervious to his blows, but it seemed this one did not hurt him. Maybe Peter's punch hadn't been all that hard…maybe the Goblin was stronger? These thoughts chased wildly through Peter's head as the Green Goblin began to strangle him.


Peter's eyes widened in panic as his throat was crushed shut. Tightening his neck muscles, he struggled to bend the green fingers back. When he couldn't break the Goblin's grip, he began to go wild with fear, losing all sense of reason. Eyes bulging, he beat at the arm, kicking and thrashing. The Goblin was truly delighted by his struggles, and his mad laughter rang in Peter's ears.


Peter's lungs sucked at nothing, and he gagged, the grip preventing him from retching. An idea flashed into Peter's blurred mind. If the Goblin tightened his grip much more, Peter's windpipe would be crushed forever, and he would die whether he was released or not. Maybe if he stopped kicking, the Goblin would think he was dead.


The Goblin shook Peter a little, who was now as limp as a rag doll. Spiderman's vision darkened and his eyes rolled back in his head as he began to die.


"So long, Spiderman," the Goblin shouted as he released his hold. As Peter began to
fall, almost fully unconscious, he blindly reached for something to hold on to as he fell, by pure instinct. Catching the edge of the glider with both hands, he hung, fighting to stay conscious, fighting to grip with his broken hand. Peter's throat remained closed, and he desperately tried to suck in a breath, fearing his windpipe was permanently crushed.


The Goblin snarled in utter exasperation at Peter's tenacity and brought his foot down on Peter's burnt, broken hand. Peter felt and heard cracks growing along the bones The sensation almost made him gag. Spiderman fell, lost in a world gone white with pain.
Peter plummeted to the ground, dazed, as his hand and throat burned. The wind cradled him, harsh against his skin. Rock-a-by, Spidey, he thought deliriously as he fell. He swallowed hard, by instinct, and wanted to die immediately. It felt like swallowing live fire.


His windpipe began to open as he sucked in the glorious evening air, lungs straining. Bit by bit, air flowed into him as he gasped, struggling to fill his deflated lungs. With his last effort, he lifted his good hand and shot a strand of web at a building he wasn't even sure was there.


The line snapped taught and he landed ungracefully on the ground in a deserted alley. Peter rolled onto his side, staring unseeingly down the dirty, dark alley. He lay shuddering in a heap for a moment, curled into a fetal position, face against the filthy pavement. Tears streamed down his face, and his breaths came in uneven sobs. He no longer felt like the hero that had defeated the Green Goblin once already, the amazing Spiderman. He suddenly felt like a child and was keenly aware of a desperate desire for someone to come and make everything all better. He pulled himself into a sitting position, and rocked back and forth, cradling his broken hand, dragging in breaths in gasping whines. The hand was misshapen and throbbing horribly.


Drawing his sleeve across his nose and wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his good hand, Peter struggled to climb to his feet. He couldn't give up now, the Goblin was on his way to MJ's. Dizziness inundated him when he stood, and he almost went right back down. Suddenly, Peter began coughing violently. Nausea attacked him in waves as he bent over, hands on his knees, coughing in deep, whooping barks. Dropping to one knee, eyes watering, he hacked until he felt he had coughed his lungs up. A coppery taste flooded in his mouth and he spat out blood. He remained kneeling for a moment, waiting until he didn't feel like he would throw up if he moved.
Straightening up slowly, Peter staggered out of the alley and down the street to MJ's apartment, praying he wasn't too late.