Sorry about the wait, I had problems loading the document. Also, sorry about the way characters refer to New York or how they behave in certain ways, I've never been to NY and am just going by any reference I can find.

Chapter 6: The First Sign of Vengeance.

Roosevelt Island is a relatively small portion of the state. It's an island that attaches Manhattan Island to the main land via the Queensboro Bridge. The bridge is famous as it is the last place that the public witnessed the flying maniac known as the Green Goblin. It was on the Queensboro Bridge that Spider-man saved the love of his life and several children that were trapped in a tram, the night Peter saw the Goblin die.

Roosevelt Island though, is a place where few people inhabit and many people work. Old Oscorp factories litter the isle, but the industrial units were no longer in use as the company was now under the management of Harry Osborn, Peter's roommate and the Goblin's son. These thoughts flowed through Peter's mind as he walked along the Queensboro Bridge, looking to his left at the low number of multi-storey buildings. He could not find a cab after leaving the Queens cemetery and had no other choice than to walk back to the active Manhattan Island. He considered web-slinging but somehow he didn't feel like it.

He stopped after a while and looked up towards the stars. There was a clearer view of the sky from that area of New York, rather than the misty air at Queens. The moon seemed large and the reflected light off of it illuminated the Bridge and the Island it was connected to.

"I wonder if Buffy could tell me if there are any real goblins." He continued to look up. He thought he could see the shadow of the Goblin fly past the face of the moon, he blinked in disbelief. "No that's a bit too far. It's probably just the vampires. Yeah no other mythical beings. Just vampires. And ghosts like Spike, slayers and witches like Willow. But mainly just vampires." Peter began to walk again and stopped quickly. His spider-sense blared in his head. He turned around cautiously to see what the danger was. He saw nothing. SPLAT! Peter turned back and looked, almost instantly at the floor. There was a puddle of drool plastered across the pavement. Peter turned his head skywards.

The werewolf clung to the metal pillars of the bridge, above Peter. Its teeth were large and sharp. Its huge limbs and muscles tensed as the creature became excited having hunted its prey successfully. Its claws dug in to the steel pillar in tension. It growled through its clenched teeth in intimidation.

"Okay, not just vampires." Peter jumped back from the werewolf as his spider-sense told him of its attack before the creature made it. Peter jumped again and shot a web at the bridge and swung away towards his home island of Manhattan. He leapt off his web-line and in to the high streets of Manhattan. He was about to shoot another, when… SLASH! "Aggh!" Peter screamed in pain. He shot the web and began to swing again. He felt as if he was being weighed down. He checked his foot and could see the werewolf digging its claws in to his wounded leg. "Hey!" Peter yelled at the creature as he noticed the wound beginning to bleed again. "Get off!" The wolf barked at him, causing its slobber to fly around his hurt limb. The wolf tightened its grip on Peter's leg, Peter squirmed with agony. He kept swinging, but he was nowhere near as graceful as usual due to the giant canine on his leg. Peter tried to kick the creature off but had no success. He glanced at the animal-man once more. He saw the creature curve back and open its jaws hungrily. Peter realised that the wolf was going to bite him and maybe make him a werewolf too.

Peter spun around on his web-line. He kicked the werewolf's gaping left cheek with his left foot.

"No biting!"

The wolf fell, tearing off a small piece of Peter's flesh as it did.

"Ow!" Peter looked down and saw the blood flowing faster. He let go of his web, landed on a water tower on a tall rooftop and began to bandage his cut with webs. The thud from his landing set his nerves on fire in throbbing pain. "Okay Fido." He spoke aggressively through his gritted teeth as he pulled the old bandage tighter on his injury. "You want to go walkies?" He pulled his outer clothes off to reveal his superhero outfit underneath, which he grabbed from his apartment earlier.

He leapt from the building, still in pain from his cut.

"So, a werewolf huh?" Peter thought about all the werewolf movies he had seen as a kid, and thought that he might be able to kill this creature the same way that they were killed in the movies. "So all I need is a rifle, some silver bullets and a really good aim!" He said doubtfully, considering his skill with a gun. "Who am I kidding? I can't fight in this state. I'm going to have to get help. I've got to find Buffy or Angel or someone! Or hope that something gets in the way of the full moon." He landed in to a crouching position on a ventilation shaft on a rooftop. He looked up at the large bright moon and the area of sky surrounding it. Not a cloud in sight. "Dang."

A creepy wind blew past the crouching superhero and behind him, in the distance, he could hear a loud, deep howl. "Oh that's encouraging." He quipped sarcastically. Another howl came, which echoed in his ears, followed by a heap of human screams and gunshots.

"Gunshots?" Peter thought out loud. "Where would there be guns?" Sirens blared as Police cars raced through the streets below. "Ask a stupid question." Peter shot a web at the building opposite. He was about to jump when something made him stop. "Wait a minute Peter." He told himself. "He's just luring you so he can kill you." More screams echoed across the island. "Oh crap!" Peter yelled, racing after the cruisers.

His injury was already feeling lighter as his spider-stamina and fast healing white blood cells reached it. The pain was gradually diminishing. Peter pushed himself to move faster as more screams, roars and gunshots echoed through the streets.

And then there was silence.

"Oh God no."

Spider-man flung himself up to the rooftop level of Midtown's high street and then plummeted back down to the roads.

He shot several more webs and swung on them all. He shot another web and swung down, deep in to the street. He skidded under a large truck going sideways across his path on a crossroad. Sliding under the vehicle on his wounded leg caused him to hiss in agony. Once after his slid under the truck, he jumped up and swung on a lamppost and back up in to the building littered sky.

"You have no idea how much this hurts!" Peter growled in pain. He shot a web-line to a large skyscraper's flagpole. He swung across to a patch of green grass and trees where two crushed police cars had been stacked.

His spider-sense had completely disappeared, telling him that no danger was near. He walked through the tall and spaced trees. He walked around one tree and gasped at the sight on the floor in front of him.

"Oh my God." He whispered beneath his mask. Several bodies of police and civilians had been slaughtered, torn and piled beneath a tall oak tree. Their flesh had been ripped and carelessly tossed aside.

Peter quickly checked the massacred bodies for any survivors. All were dead. Spider-man sighed and looked down at his feet. "Shit." As he kneeled in front of the mass of bodies he noticed that the pile must have been twice or even three times his kneeling height. "So these things don't kid around when they say they're going to kill you." Peter tried to make himself laugh, but the scene in front of him erased all the humour from his personality.

Peter stood up, removed his mask and looked intently at the corpses.

"He did this to lure me." This revelation dawned on the unmasked hero. "I should have been here. I knew what he was doing and that made me hesitant." He stopped and leaned against the oak tree, pressing his forehead hard against the bark. "With great power…" He reminded himself. "Ah crap!" He yelled out, punching the tree with his right fist, causing half the tree's leaves to fall.

"Spi… spider-man." A slow, dying voice came across the grass on the wind. Peter jumped in shock and began looking for the source of the voice. He looked around the corner of a nearby tree and found the torso of a mid-thirties, white policeman.

The man's body had literally been torn apart and he was using all of his strength just to talk. Peter fell to his knees beside the man and held his head up. The man fell silent and limp before gasping for breath again and making Spider-man jump in alarm. Peter jostled the man, trying to keep him awake and alive.

"It's going to be okay." Peter tried to encourage the man. "I'll get you to a hospital."

"Don… don't bother." The man said. A small trickle of blood ran from the policeman's mouth and down his chin. "I'm done for." Peter looked down the body and could see this man's legs in the branches of a tree. "So… that's what you really look like?" The man spoke in a tired yet triumphant way, as though he had won a great prize.

"Huh?" Peter realised he was not wearing a mask as he felt his face with his right hand.

"You know, you… you saved me once." The policeman's tongue went bright crimson as it absorbed the large amounts of blood from the his mouth.

"I did?" Peter asked, checking for the strength of the pulse on the man's wrist. To his regret it was becoming fainter by the second.

"Yeah." The man became excited, Peter thought this was a bad thing but considered the man only had a few minutes to live, let them be happy ones. "At that… that… that Cletus Kassidy murder trial. When Kassidy… stole one of our… stole one of our guns, he took me as a hostage. You turned up five seconds later… and mopped the floor with him!"

Peter laughed, remembering how he did kick the crap out of New York's most insane serial killer.

"I'm sorry." Peter apologised to the dying man.

"For what?" The man asked.

"I'm sorry that I didn't get here in time to save you or those people back there."

"Don't apologise for the past." COUGH! COUGH! Blood splattered over the man's chest. "It's already happened… and no one can change it. You… you just have to keep… keep fighting." There was a pause. "The thing that did this, whatever it was, killed those people without mercy. It… it would have been the same outcome if you were here."

"What's your name?" Peter asked the man.

"Captain James Morriston." He announced proudly. He lifted his hand and Peter shook it. "And you?"

"Spid… Ur… Peter Parker."

"You know Pete…" COUGH! "I thought I might… I thought I might die in this uniform…" He pulled himself up, Peter helped him up as he was sinking in to the earth. The earth was softening as it became mixed with the dying man's blood. "I've given twelve years of my life to this service… and I haven't saved nearly as many people as you have in one year!"

Peter felt embarrassed.

"Are you jealous?"

"No." Capt. Morriston answered. "I'm…" COUGH! "I'm proud of you… I'm proud that you've used your power the way that you have… responsibly." He continued to cough for a few extra minutes, Peter could literally see the life being drained from this man. Police or not he was still human and still mortal. "I saved a family just a short while ago. When that wolf creature started killing… I saw it heading for a couple with a small kid. I did what my instincts told me and got between the civilians and the…" COUGH! "and the threat." He stopped to catch his breath. In this state, talking made him feel exhausted. "It tore me apart but at least that child and his folks were safe." He wore a satisfied grin and chuckled lightly. "You know…" COUGH! "My family would tell me I was nuts to do that!" He continued to laugh. A small silence was shared between the two men.

"You weren't." Peter told him. "You were brave and heroic, and now I'm proud of you." He smiled down at the body. The captain hiccupped a bit with a few more drops of blood falling from his mouth. He beamed up at the unmasked Spider-man.

"Gee." COUGH! "Thanks" He whispered softly with his last few breaths. "That means a lot coming from you."

James' body slowly became limp and Peter was once again holding the body of a dead man. Peter could feel the coldness of the man's death seeping through the gloves on his hands.

Peter lowered the upper body down on the floor, the head fell to the right. Peter lifted himself up on to his feet and began to walk. He walked towards the large pile up of bodies. The wind blew through his hair and pulled at the mask in his hand, causing it to flap around.

"I've never seen anything like this, nor have I fought anything like that before." Peter covered his head with his mask and continued to stare at the carcasses. Peter pondered the words he had just said. He was wrong, he had seen something like this before.

The Green Goblin. He had been the one who had killed groups of people quickly and brutally. But Peter was right in saying that he had never fought anything like this before. This was a werewolf. Peter had little experience with the supernatural. But he could tell that this creature had the ability to kill and didn't pass up any chance to slaughter that it got.

The voice of the late Capt. James Morriston echoed through Peter's mind.

'Don't apologise for the past." COUGH! COUGH! "It's already happened… and no one can change it. You… you just have to keep… keep fighting."

Peter felt that he was going to disappoint the late police officer by saying…

"I'm sorry."

Peter turned his back on the mountain of bodies and shot a web towards one of the treetops. He swung up and back in to the skyscraper area. Going at a slower speed and swinging carelessly, Spider-man was distracted by his feelings and thoughts of the events just gone.

'If only Uncle Ben and I could have talked like that Capt. Morriston before he…' Peter stopped in mid-thought. All other emotions were drained away from him and all that was left was anger. He wasn't sure whether the anger was directed at himself or at the werewolf. "Yeah and why did I have to be such an ass and let that thieving bastard kill him!"

Spider-man swung a full circle around and on top of a water tower. He leapt off and grabbed hold of a flagpole. He swung on the pole and let go. His body fell forward along the building's exterior walls. His arm stretched out in front of him and shot a web at an angel sculpture that protruded majestically from the corner of a gigantic clock tower that over shadowed the city's elevated train tracks. The angel was concrete and faced forward. It held a sword and wore a long flowing robe. Spider-man gripped the sides of the clock tower and climbed up and crouched on the top of the angel's back.

'This would be a good location for a fight with a super-villain.' Peter pondered over the area quickly.

He twitched as the sharp sensation of his spider-sense hit him.

"Here we go again."


Angel jumped and soared over the rooftops of New York. He glided down and over the train tracks. He reached the other side of the tracks and crouched. He looked over the side of the rails, searching for the werewolf. Recently in the chase he had discovered that Peter Parker's blood was also near. Angel knew that if there was an evil creature that Spider-man would try to stop it, but he also knew how inexperienced Peter was with mystical cases like werewolves. Angel looked down through the tracks at the following scoobies.

"Come on! He's somewhere in this area!" He informed loudly.

Buffy, Faith ran at equal speed with Giles, Spike and Willow following, just visibly, behind. The demon hunters ran past the odd drug bloated bum and dodgy looking loiterers that usually filled the streets at night.

Suddenly, Buffy halted and threw her arm out sideways, forcing Faith to stop. She could hear bells.

'It's probably just some church having a late night service.' She thought dismissively. 'At 3:45 in the morning?'

"What is it B?" The younger slayer asked.

"Do you hear that?" Buffy questioned, looking very focused.

The two of them looked around and then, remembering their slayer training, closed their eyes and listened. Somewhere above them they heard a THWIP! that sounded like Spider-man's web, which was followed by the sound of glass shattering. After the broken glass noise, Peter's voice echoed from above.

"Shhhhiiiiiiiit!" THUD! The sound of Peter's body hitting concrete was heard. Buffy gasped at the thought of Peter being hurt. A roar came from a further area than where Peter was. Almost like lightning speed the sounds of the werewolf joined the sounds of Peter's agonising moans. Another thud boomed from above, as if someone had been hit by something tremendously strong. The slayers could hear the wind rush past Spider-man's body as he fell.

The rest of their group caught up behind them and immediately supported themselves against nearby walls in order to catch their breaths.

"Did you find the werewolf?" Giles asked, sounding more exhausted than ever.

Buffy ran off, trying to find a way to get up to help Peter.

"Yeah and we found someone else too." Faith explained quickly before running off to join the fight.

"Angel! Above you!" Buffy yelled up at the vampire.

Angel senses jumped to attention as he felt Peter fall in his direction. Angel tried to catch the hero but it was too late. SLAM! Spider-man plummeted down on top of Angel, causing the two of them to fall out over the tracks.

"Peter." Angel shook him. "Peter!" Peter was motionless, but Angel could sense that his heart was still beating and his blood was still flowing. Unfortunately it was flowing out of his body through his, again, open leg wound. Peter's costume was torn around his right leg. His mask was in pieces. 'He's been knocked out.' Angel thought. "Great! what could make this worse?"

A noise that made Angel think of screeching metal flooded his ears. He looked to his left, not believing the amazing misfortune that he had just been given, and saw a massive train about a hundred yards away and closing.

"Had to ask."


"Here we go again." Peter mumbled after being startled by his spider-sense. He moved around, looking in all directions for the wolf as he held his grasp on the stone angel's back firmly.

He turned to face the giant glass clock face. He squinted as the glass reflected the moon's bright glow. He covered his masked eyes with the lower part of his arm.

A crash echoed around the clock tower. Spider-man ran around the tower and saw a wolf-shaped shadow enter through a balcony doorway. The door had been ripped off and crushed.

"Yeah you'd better run!" Peter yelled at the werewolf, still enraged from before. The bent door that lay coldly shook as Spider-man sprinted powerfully past it.

Spider-man bounded through the clock tower. His stomping footsteps reverberated through the building. He ran up a set of stairs and reached the top floor. The glass clock face was usually a shade of stained yellow by day, but as it was lit by the moon it seemed much more pale. The floor was wooden and creaked eerily under Spider-man's boot covered feet. Around the inner rim of the room hung six great bells that shook from the force of Peter's running, each bell seemed to be big enough to hold four men inside. In the centre of the room hung an even larger bell that swayed slightly as if it had been hit by a speeding creature. Spider-man turned away from this large bell and looked up, searching the ceiling.

"Where are you?" He shouted. "Come out now!" A grey, hairy blur ran at Spider-man, from behind a timber cupboard, and knocked him across the room and in to the gigantic bell. All the bells were connected together by rope, so as Spider-man hit the largest bell in the middle and made it ring out, all the others started to chime loudly. "The bells! THE BELLS!" Spider-man moaned, mimicking Quasimodo from the, 'Hunchback of Notre Dam.' "Esmeralda!"

He stood up and shook his head, shaking off the new headache he was getting. The werewolf stood before him growling and roaring at him.

"What? Just because I made a joke doesn't mean I'm not still pissed off!" Spider-man shouted aggressively at the wolf. He pressed his fingers against his palm and shot a web at a elongated metal pole that lay across the floor. THWIP! The THWIP! noise was louder than usual because of the room's space. He pulled the pole back and once it was in his grasp, he used it to pummel the werewolf. Hitting it this way and that way until the wolf started to howl in pain. "This is for Capt. James Morriston, of the NYPD, who you murdered!" Peter yelled accusingly. The shadows of the two figures mimicked their movements as Spider-man continued to hit. "You're going to pay for all those people you killed you son-of-a-bitch!"

In the back of Peter's subconscious mind, a voice said, 'Son-of-a-bitch? Werewolf? Huh, I made a funny!' The thought distracted Spider-man for a moment and he swung but missed the werewolf. The wolf creature grabbed the pole and wrenched it out from the hero's hands. The wolf tossed it aside, the end of the pole caught a slight tear in Spider-man's trouser leg and opened it wider.

The werewolf grabbed Spider-man by the throat and held him up and over its head. Peter could see through the glass clock face and saw a man crouching on the train tracks below.

'Is he crazy?' Peter thought, 'Is he trying to get himself kil…' "Whoa!" The wolf-man threw him straight through the clock face. The glass smashed as he hit it head first. He did his best at shielding his eyes, but some glass managed to tear his mask to shreds and leave small cuts on his face. Peter fell back and down towards the stone angel again.

"Shhhhiiiiiiiit!" He yelled. THUD! He missed the angel and hit a concrete ledge that ran along the outside of the building. He moaned as he tried to get back up, but couldn't seem to move his right leg. He heard a roar behind him, but it seemed far away, then another, this time it was much closer.

Peter shot his head around and saw the werewolf, standing on the ledge behind him, on its hind legs and sneering down at him. The werewolf's teeth glimmered in the moonlight. It drew back its wrist and smacked the vigilante across his back. This sent Spider-man hurtling off the ledge and heading for the tracks. The wind whistled in his ears as he fell. He was heading towards the crouching man who quickly turned around and saw the falling hero come right at him. Peter got a glimpse of his face.

"Angel?" He breathed. It was no way near loud enough for anyone to hear him say it.

SLAM! He collided with Angel, and the two of them fell on the tracks.

Peter couldn't find the strength to get up he just lay there on the verge of falling unconscious and thought he could hear Angel murmur something. But Peter was too out of it to listen and instead went out cold.


Angel looked from the train to Peter and back. He sighed.

"Sorry Pete." He apologised quietly, "Somebody catch!" Angel yelled at his friends below. He pulled back his feet and kicked off Peter. This action sent Peter off the one side of the tracks and Angel grabbed hold of the railing on the side of the tracks and stood up right as the train raced past his face. After the train had gone past, he looked from side to side and gracefully dropped down in to the streets below.

Buffy and Faith who were half way up the stairs, on their way to the tracks, saw the red and blue blur that was Peter Parker fly over the heads and saw that he was heading for the pavement. They began to race back down to the streets in an effort to catch him, when a thunderous crash came from behind them. They turned to see but was to slow to react. The werewolf was on the stairs, running at them and smacked them sideways, off the stairs and through the window of a sports shop, closed for the night. Faith fell on her stomach and Buffy saw an amusing sight.

"Did you get the number of that werewolf that hit me?" Faith joked sarcastically as she rubbed a fresh bruise on her forehead. "B? Buffy?" Buffy ignored her, she was signalling her attentions at a glistening sniper rifle in the hunting section of the shop and a box that sat next to it. Buffy walked up to the box and read the label on the side that read,

'Genuine Silver Bullets.

Made in Romania.'

"Whoa Buff." Faith held out her palms, gesturing that Buffy should calm down. "Maybe it's an okay guy. We shouldn't just kill it without finding out what's going on first. I mean I've killed like that befor…"

"He ripped your pants." Buffy interrupted as she loaded the rifle.

"What?" Faith exclaimed. She looked down her body. She was wearing her favourite, black leather pants and couldn't see any rip. "Where?" She shrugged. Buffy coughed twice, indicating that it was somewhere embarrassing. "Huh?" Faith stared at the older slayer and felt her legs from the ankles. To do this she bent forward. A breeze blew past her back and her eyes widened in shock as it became cold around her butt. She stood up straight and felt her ass, there was a huge hole going across the back of her pants. The hole revealed the large pair of briefs that Faith was wearing. Buffy had seen these when they first crashed through the window and got another view as a mirror behind Faith reflected the image of Faith's underwear. Buffy laughed as Faith's eyes watered and she bit her lip.

"Nice undies." The blonde chuckled as the young brunette's face went red.

"My clothes got lost in the L.A. airport alright?" She protested. Her angry tone turned to an upset moan as she said, "I've had to share underwear with Xander."

That was it for Buffy, she fell to the floor, clutching her stomach, dropping the rifle, howling with laughter and crying from hysterics.

"Shouldn't you be helping them with the werewolf?" Faith asked, with a slight tone of pleading. Buffy shook her head through the laughter.

She suddenly stopped and stared at the smashed window. More wolf howls and crashes made the way to her ears.

"Spoke too soon. Come on." She said quickly, grabbing the rifle and jumping to her feet. Faith had her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder at the tear.

"Actually B, I… I think I'll stay and wait for Angel to call another limo."

Buffy made a noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a snigger.


After sending the slayers flying, the werewolf raced to the descending Spider-man. It intended to slaughter the student vigilante before he reached the ground.

Along the sidewalk to the creature's left, the wolf's strong sense of smell was picking up a witch, worse a witch conjuring a spell. A spell that would save Spider-man, something the werewolf couldn't allow. The wolf's gigantic paw swung at a nearby trashcan, sending it hurtling towards Willow.

Willow was concentrated so much on Peter's life that she didn't notice the rushing bin heading her way. Her spell slowed down Peter's fall, but didn't stop it. She was about to set him down slowly when Giles jumped and pushed her out of the way.

"Willow! down!" Giles yelled as he pulled her down to the ground. The waste bin smacked against Giles' right foot. "Oww!" He howled.

Spike looked above at the falling hero.

"Oh bugger." He murmured, and ran after Spider-man. He lifted his hands in an effort to catch Spider-man's unconscious self as he sprinted. He was right under Peter when he realised his mistake. "Oh yeah, I'm a ghost." Spike dropped his arms as Peter's body fell through him.

Peter lay over the sidewalk, with his head in the gutter, in his battered Spider-man costume and bleeding through several injuries. He could feel the strong breath of the werewolf over him as the creature growled, but was too exhausted to stand and do something about it. The wolf lifted Peter by the back of his costume and barked at him. Peter's limbs hung from his body and were entirely under the pull of gravity.

A young woman, with brown hair and a green tank top walked around the corner of a building, muttering on a cell phone. She walked in the direction of the situation, looked up and dropped her phone. Her scream echoed through the town as she saw the massive wolf that stood on two legs. She was off, running and screaming as fast as she humanly could.

The man-wolf sniffed as it smelled the stench of a vampire drawing near. With a giant swing of its massive wrist it knocked Angel, who had tried to save Peter, to the roof of a small convenience shop. The werewolf watched as Angel hurtled and smacked down on the concrete rooftop. The wolf took a few seconds, basking in the triumph of such a powerful blow. It opened its jaws, about to try to bite Peter again.

The werewolf's canines were less than a millimetre away.

BANG!

The wolf's eyes widened as the gunshot sounded from behind it. The pellet pierced the side of the werewolf's abdomen and caused the creature's blood to pour. The wolf had been shot once before that night but this shot actually hurt it. It was a silver bullet.

It could feel its fur become wet with its blood and clenched the vigilante's costume.

It moved slowly and turned to see what shot it.

Standing on the sidewalk, outside of the broken windowed sports store, stood the blonde slayer known as Buffy with her left hand supporting a sniper rifle, her right hand operating the trigger and her right eye peering through the scope. She had the gun aimed at the giant homo-canine. Her finger curled over the trigger as she steadied her aim.

"Bad puppy." She whispered as she pulled back the trigger. There was another BANG! And the bullet soared through the air. It swivelled and punctured the werewolf's chest and cut through to its heart.

The wolf screeched and howled as it felt the silver's fatal agony course through to its body via its arteries and back through its veins. In its anguish the werewolf through Spider-man back over its shoulder.

Peter landed face down on a passing taxi cab. The driver kicked down on his brakes and jumped out from the vehicle.

"Mother fu…" He gasped in an Indian accent, but didn't finish his curse out loud. The man was obviously Indian, he wore robes and a turbine. He stood by the superhero's head and noticed the damage on his costume. The taxi driver remembered about the reward for Spider-man that the Daily Bugle had placed on him and thought that maybe he could get in on it. After looking around to see if anyone was watching he placed his grubby digits on the end of the mask and started to pull.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" A hand pulled the driver aside and its owner used his other hand to lift Spider-man and hoist him over his shoulder. It was Angel, back from the store roof. He glared at the Asian driver. "I'm giving you five seconds to get back in your cab and to get out of my sight."

The driver was frightened and nodded panicky. He leapt in to his taxi and bolted down the street and around the corner.

"Probably should have said to stay under the speed limit." Angel reconsidered his order.

He walked back to the scene, with the unconscious Spider-man draped over his shoulder. The rest of the gang approached the dying werewolf gingerly as it howled its last howl.

Quickly, the fur faded, the muscles shrank and the face became human. What was left was a naked man, whose heart was open and losing life fast. Blood continued to pour from the man's gaping torso. Buffy approached the man and bent down to ask him something.

"Who are you?"

"He… He wants him." The man pointed up at Peter's fast asleep body.

"Who?" Buffy was suddenly very interested.

"He wants… rev… revenge. Revenge on… Spider-man… Pe… Peter Parker." The guy was starting to lose his grip on the physical life.

Buffy grabbed the man by the arm and shook him to keep from dying just a second longer.

"Who?" She shouted.

The man's eyes looked blankly at the space above him. He hiccupped and coughed quietly for a few short seconds, then his body went limp and he laid down on the floor, dead.


A few hours later, several ambulances and Wolfram and Hart vans were on the scene. An annoying paramedic kept meddling with an oxygen mask and kept trying to apply it to Buffy face. She batted the mask paramedic's pesky arms away and jumped down from the ambulance table that she was sitting on. She walked through the rivers of yapping and rushing paramedics. She could see Spike just simply walking through everything and everyone that was standing in his way, making everyone that he did walk through shiver coldly.

Buffy started calling Angel's name and jumped to see over the tops of people's heads.

"Angel! Angel!" She turned around the corner of the back of an ambulance. "Angel?" She saw Giles and Willow sitting in the back doorway of the ambulance. Willow was wrapping a blanket around Giles' back and holding him comfortingly. Giles was holding an oxygen mask tightly around his face, as if addicted to oxygen.

"Thanks for saving me." She thanked for the thirty billionth time.

"Willow it was only a bin, I scarcely think it would have killed you." Giles said, seeming very annoyed at the witch.

"But it was a metal one." She said as an excuse. Giles sighed.

"You're looking for Angel are you?" He asked Buffy, she nodded. "He's over there." He pointed towards a limousine parked along pavement. Buffy could see Angel next to the car, dialling a number in to a cell phone.

"Thanks." Buffy walked of leaving the two of them by the ambulance.

"And it was big, well not very big but…"

"Oh Willow shut up!" Giles inhaled deeply from the oxygen mask.

As Buffy approached Angel, she could hear his conversation with someone on the other end.

"Hey Wes. Have you had any luck finding that soul yet?"

Wesley's voice spoke back to him from L.A.

"Angel, no we haven't. Who ever bought it sold it to a demon in China, who sold it to a cult in Russia, who sold… Well you get the idea."

"Well keep trying and phone this cell phone if you find anything. See ya later." Angel stopped the call. Buffy walked forward, Angel had his back to her but could smell her.

"How is Wes these days, or does he still go by, 'Giles junior,' or, 'Head boy,'?" Buffy joked.

"You'd be surprised if you saw him, compared to what he was like the last time you saw him." Angel defended his English friend.

"And what about the rest of the, 'Fang Gang,'? How's Cordelia? From what Faith and Willow told me, you two have got the hots for each other." Buffy bit her lip, not knowing if she should be happy that her ex was now lusting after her old rival, (Or was she a friend, they never seemed to sort that out), or if she should be jealous.

Angel looked down and became instantly depressed.

"Angel? What is it?" Buffy asked.

"Cordy's… She's in a coma."

Buffy breathed in, shocked. She and Cordelia had never really got on very well, but deep down neither of them wanted the other to be seriously hurt.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Buffy asked.

"Giles stopped keeping contact with us after we took over Wolfram and Hart." Angel explained. There was a silence between. It was an awkward moment, barely six feet behind them there was such large amounts of energy and busy paramedics rushing around the place, and yet these two people stood there, as motionless and as quiet as statues.

"How did it happen?" Buffy asked her fifth question in four minutes.

Angel took a deep breath.

"Long story short; Wolfram and Hart resurrect Darla. I get her pregnant. She gives birth to a superhuman and stakes herself. I name the baby Connor and look after him. Wesley betrays me and takes Connor away from me. Wesley's throat is slit and Connor is sent to a Hell dimension, he comes back a few days later as an eighteen year old and is trained to kill me. Cordy becomes a higher power, we bring her back. She sleeps with Connor, gets pregnant with an evil power. She gives birth and goes in to coma. We kill evil and Wolfram and Hart give us their company, Connor is given new life without me as his father." Angel panted for breath, but remembered he didn't breathe. Buffy was taken aback.

"That's a lot of information to take in seven seconds." She stated. She placed her hand on his upper arm sympathetically. He looked down. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Connor's got a better life and Cordy's getting the best medical attention in L.A." Angel continued to look down, Buffy retracted her hand. "Listen if you and the guys want to stay at the Wolfram and Hart hotel I can pull strings and get you rooms for free."

"Well we could use a place for free." Buffy pondered the offer. She made her decision. "The doctors say that Peter may need to go to hospital. I'll stay with him and you take the guys to your hotel."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I need to call his friends and tell them where he is."

"Okay." Angel nodded. The two of them shared a more peaceful silence. "I'd better go. Sunrise is coming in a few minutes and…" RING RING! Angel's cell phone started to chime. "Hold on." He pulled out the phone and answered the call. "Angel… A meeting? With who?... Wilson Fisk?... No! Of course we're not going to pay his bail… Well then he's not our client anymore!"

Buffy walked away slowly from Angel's tantrum over the cell phone as he climbed in to his limo. As she walked she noticed her fellow slayer, Faith, lying face down on an ambulance table, covered by a sheet.

"Faith? You're weren't hurt that bad."

"I know." Faith whispered back and looked up at the blonde. "I'm just trying to get out of here without anyone noticing my…"

One of the paramedics lifted and looked under the sheet for Faith's injury and was very surprised with what he found.

"Hey guys! Come and have a look at this!" A large crowd of medics gathered around Faith's table. Some whistling and some catcalling. Faith buried her face in a pillow on the table, moaning from embarrassment.

"Kill me now." Faith groaned.

"Sorry we don't do humans." Buffy laughed before strolling off, hearing Faith's suffering moans in the background. Buffy walked past another ambulance with only one paramedic working by it. She saw, on the table, the werewolf in his dead, human body. The medic noticed Buffy over his shoulder.

"This guy got it in the heart." He attempted to sound professional, in order to impress the blonde beauty behind him.

"I know." Buffy said, unmoved. "I shot him." She said simply, still contemplating the words the corpse had told her before it died. The medic seemed surprised and a bit frightened.

"Wha… What?"

"He was a werewolf, I'm a slayer, do the math."

Buffy left as the paramedic inspected the body, more cautiously now that he knew it was a werewolf. Buffy found the ambulance that Peter was being carried in to. She stared at his face. Angel had found his backpack when they were looking for him and the werewolf, and to keep Peter's secret a secret from New York's medical finest, she had changed him out of his Spider-man outfit and back in to his civilian clothes. When the doctors had asked why his clothes hadn't been ripped, Angel had told them not to ask questions or they'd be fired.

Buffy continued to stare at Peter's resting face, lying heavily against the table's pillow. She felt something in her stomach that felt sickly yet calm. Before the overweight paramedic could close the doors Buffy spoke.

"Can I go with him?" She asked.

"Do you know him?" The fat medic asked back.

"No." Buffy shouted sarcastically. "Actually I'm just trying to get a lift to my hotel." She glared and frowned at the paramedic, who looked back at her, too tired to argue.

"Alright get in."

Buffy clambered in to the back of the ambulance and stood aside as the medic closed the door. The medical vehicle started to move. Peter's head bobbed from side to side on his small pillow. He groaned. Buffy leaned over him and looked intently at his face. She didn't know how she felt, but she knew it was peaceful and affectionate for Peter.

Peter continued to groan.

"Mmm… MJ."

Buffy's face became drained of emotion. She turned around, sat on a seat on the wall of the ambulance and stared forward, depressed.

'Sure.' She thought, 'All I did was save your life.'


Harry Osborn sat in his father's armchair, which he had moved to his and Peter's apartment after Norman Osborn's dreary funeral. He held in his hand a glass of scotch and downed it like water. His liver felt abused. His emotions and pride had been ripped apart by his supposed friend, Peter Parker. He had been yelled at and humiliated in front of strangers in his own home. He had tried to help the obviously injured Peter, but was brushed off. He had done as Peter had asked and had taken Mary Jane home safely, but returned to nothing but lonely humiliation.

The downstairs of their apartment was pretty classy and beyond Peter Parker's price range. It was dimly lit and two candles were lit on the dining table, because that was the atmosphere Harry liked to drink in. The French windows were open and the curtains blew in the raising wind.

The alcohol was taking effect and Harry's emotions were all over the place. He felt jealous of Peter. It was Peter Parker who had earned more of his father, the scientist billionaire, Norman Osborn's respect in a two minute conversation than Harry had in his entire life. It was Peter Parker who came first in everything; awards, independence, etc. At least in high school Peter had needed Harry to help and support him through the bullies and hard times. But that changed the day Peter kicked Flash, the biggest jock/bully Midtown High had ever known, Thompson's arse. Peter had more luck in romance as well. Whereas Harry had used his wealth to sweep Mary Jane off her feet, Peter had told her how he felt about her and continually supported her. Peter was always there to make Mary Jane feel good about herself. Peter, Harry's best friend, had stolen Mary Jane's heart. He and Spider-man.

'Spider-man.' Harry thought his name with disgust and imagined himself spitting it out.

Two rescues from that cursed red and blue arachnid and MJ was smitten.

"I hate Spider-man." Harry slurred drunkenly, refilling his glass with scotch. In his mind he was replaying the night he had found Spider-man with the corpse of his dead father, but that time seemed minute to him compared with Mary Jane's desertion and Peter Parker's betrayal and hatred. "And Peter Parker." He downed the drink and refilled. "And Mary Jane." He pulled himself up from his comfortable chair, from fears of falling asleep. He composed himself the best he could in his drunken state and stood proudly like his father. "I'll see to it that they all die and rot in Hell!" He raised the glass above his head as if making a promise to an unseen person. He gulped the rest of the scotch down his throat. "For you Dad." He slammed the bottle and glass down on his dining table.

Not even a second after finishing the sentence a loud cackle came through the window. The laugh startled Harry and made him fall backwards, his feet facing the open windows. Harry was frightened, not because of the surprise, but because the laugh sounded familiar.

"Wh… Who's there?" He gasped.

There was a few long seconds of silence followed by a low, twisted chuckle.

Harry leapt up off the floor and locked the windows shut. He pulled the curtains closed and leaned against the wall next to the windows. He sighed in relief and retrieved the scotch bottle.

"Damn scotch." He murmured.

RING, RING!

The phone rang.

Harry jumped again in surprise. Once he realised what had caused the noise he calmed down.

"Hello?" Harry answered the call in his best attempt at being sober, "Buffy Summers?... No, I remember, Peter's friend right?… Yeah. What's the matter?... Oh my God. Is he alright?... Yeah, I'll get everyone to come and see him. Bye." Harry put down the phone, feeling sickened by himself, how could he say all those terrible things about Peter when he was in hospital.

He picked up the phone again and pressed a button on speed dial.

"Bernard? It's me. Send my chauffeur to my apartment, I need a ride." After all the scotch he had drank, he was in no fit state to drive. "Thank you Bernard. Tell her I'll be waiting in the foyer." Harry finished the call and grabbed his things; his coat, his keys, his cell phone, etc. He locked his apartment shut and began to walk intoxicated by scotch. He entered the elevator and started dialling Mary Jane's number as he descended.

In his cold, empty apartment, the candles remained lit. They burned gradually and tranquilly through the rising of the sun.

A gust of wind blew through and burst the lock open on the windows, causing them to fly open. The lock was metal, suggesting that it wasn't only the wind that helped in opening it. The flames of the candles were extinguished by the wind, and a thin stream of smoke rose from the candles' wax.

The apartment room echoed with the noise of the same evil laugh that Harry had chalked up to alcohol. But if Harry was gone, how could the laughing noise still be heard?

"Soon Harry…" A ghostly voice flew in on the wind, in to the apartment. "Soon."


"Some superhero." Spike made Buffy jump as he walked through the walls of the waiting room at Midtown Hospital. She jumped and quickly looked around to make sure no one saw the ghost. "Let a werewolf beat him."

"Sit down!" She tried to pull at his arm, but went straight through.

The waiting room was small, with only one exit on the wall in front. There were two rows of chairs lined up against opposing walls. A bed was pressed up against a wall with a window. On the bed was a sleeping visitor that had been sound asleep when Buffy arrived. Buffy was seated on the row of seats, opposite the wall with the door. She was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a peach sweater, with her hair let down over her shoulders.

It had only been hour since her finger had pulled back on the trigger of the rifle that had brought down the werewolf. She was so tired, however that she hadn't bothered to find out what time it was. She was falling asleep as Spike came in to the room. After all, it had been a hectic hour with her life-risking stunts in order to save Peter Parker from almost certain death and then a suicide ride through New York and being pushed around and asked questions at the hospital. One of the hardest things for Buffy to withstand was the look of Peter's face, in pain. That and the fact that she had gone twenty five hours without sleep.

"Okay, okay." He said in a poor attempt to calm her down. "You know I think I preferred the way you talked to me when I was, you know undead rather than dead-dead." She frowned at him.

"That's because you said I didn't love you!" She snapped, bursting from her seat. "Who are you to think that you can tell me what I feel?" She yelled loudly at him. The sleeping visitor fidgeted and stirred. Buffy held her breath but saw that the man was going back to sleep.

"Calm down love." Spike lowered his voice and gestured for Buffy to sit down. "Bloody Hell."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Buffy spat at the spectre.

"How come you haven't talked to me like this before?" Spike tried to question her.

"Because we've always been in front of people." Buffy explained angrily.

"Oh."

"'No you don't. But thanks for saying it.'" Buffy sat back and quoted Spike in a mock British accent. She folded her arm and sulked. Spike sneered at her, he didn't like being insulted, especially not by old lovers.

"And your pissed because I said I couldn't come back with you, right?" Spike seemed a bit curious.

"That and other things." Buffy stared away from Spike, thinking about Peter's unconscious moans in the ambulance. "Anyway what did you mean by, 'Some superhero,'?"

"As I said, he couldn't even beat a soddin' werewolf. The mighty Spider-man taken down by an overgrown Jack-Russell." Spike ranted.

"Have you ever beaten a werewolf on your own without a weapon?" Buffy quizzed him.

"Well uhh…"

"Just as I thought." Buffy looked towards the window and noticed something. Spike was sitting in sunlight. But Spike used to be a vampire, vampires couldn't be in sunlight or else they would catch on fire. "So being a ghost means that you don't burst in to flames in daylight?" Spike shook his head as he leaned back in to the chair. "Why are you back?" Buffy became interested in what Spike was doing, haunting Angel.

"Something to do with that necklace you gave me," He looked up at her, she looked back, "the one Angel gave you." He faced forward again. "From what I know, Hell inc., a.k.a. Wolfram and Hart, gave it to him. It brought me back and because Angel was the one who was meant to wear it in the destruction of the Hell Mouth I now have to haunt the tosser."

"But if Angel is in that Wolfram and Hart hotel how come you can be here?" Buffy asked.

"Apparently I can move anywhere within the city that he's in." Spike explained.

"What happens if you try to leave?"

"I vanish and appear next to Angel again."

"So you can't come with us then?" Spike shook his head.

The man on the bed began to snore loudly and echoed over the two other waiting room occupants' words.

"Rude pillac." Spike muttered to himself and continued to walk forward.


A nurse entered the waiting room and brought the news that Peter was okay for visitors, even though he was still asleep. Buffy was first to see him. He had been bandaged all over. The bandage that Buffy had placed on his leg had been removed and a new, clean bandage. One of the bandages covered Peter's right eye, in order to cover a gash on his forehead. His body was wrapped in a hospital bed blanket and his head was lifted by a fluffed hospital pillow.

The room was quiet and tranquil. The only noise that could be heard in the room before Buffy entered, was the low rhythm of Peter's slumbering breathing. A slight breeze blew through a semi-open window and pulled the leaves faintly of a potted cluster of flowers on the windowsill. Beside the window was a bluish-grey arm chair. The floor had been sterilized and glimmered from its cleanliness. A framed portrait of the Hudson river, flowing between Manhattan and Roosevelt Island, was framed and hung from the wall, next to the door. A table, with a television, stood opposite Peter's bed. A bed-side table stood beside the bed, (Obviously, where did you think it would be?).

Buffy walked in to the room slowly and gently placed the door in to its closed position.

"Peter?" She whispered, not wanting to wake the student.

She lifted the chair by the window and placed it down on the left side of the bed so that she could get a view out through the window. It was a nice view. The hospital room was facing away from the tall buildings of the Manhattan skyline. It faced Roosevelt Island and Buffy found herself comparing the real image with the portrait on the wall behind her. The sun was still low in the sky, but was rising gradually. The sunlight passed through the gaps in the buildings of Roosevelt Island, giving a beautiful sort of pattern. Buffy's eyelids lowered and she dreamed, dreamed about the beauty of sunlight, how it destroyed her enemies and illuminated Peter's face as she lowered her head on the bed's mattress.

Peter pulled himself up the bed in his slumber. His arms hung over the blanket. They were bandaged but warm. Buffy pulled his right arm over her shoulder and fell in to a deep sleep with her head resting on his chest.


"Okay he's down here." Harry directed Mary Jane and Peter's Aunt May in to the hospital room that Peter was occupying. May was shaky and had been ever since she had heard of Peter's hospitalisation. She had always been worried about Peter. She was always the cautious one of Peter's life. In his life, growing up, his Uncle Ben was always the one that taught Peter to laugh and to respect, May however, had taught him to care and love, a perfect balance. A balance that had been disturbed when Ben's murder hit the Parker household. Sometimes Peter wondered what life would have been like had his parents survived that aeroplane crash and he hadn't gone to live with his aunt and uncle. From what his Uncle Ben had told him about his parents he was sure he would still have been a caring, funny person had he lived his parents instead.

"Okay, which room?" Mary Jane asked. She was rushing, she felt that if ever Peter was hurt she should be at his side. Since MJ had heard about Peter's beating she had done nothing but rush in his direction.

They found the door to Peter's room. Mary Jane ran through it like a battering-ram. She was so worried for Peter that her basic common sense left so that when she entered, she looked around trying to find him, when he was propped up on a bed by the wall on her left. She saw him resting and saw Buffy, the girl that had been looking for Peter and had treated his injuries the night before, sleeping under his one arm. She gasped.

"Peter?" She breathed.

"Who is that?" Aunt May pointed directly at Buffy. She was upset and her voice was louder than usual, loud enough to wake Buffy. The slayer jumped in surprise at the sudden presence of Peter's friends and aunt. She was a little startled at the sight of Aunt May, seeing as they hadn't met yet.

"Oh… I'm sorry, must have dosed off." She stood up and composed herself.

"Hello Buffy." Harry shook her hand. "How is he?"

"The nurse told me he's getting better every second." Buffy told them.

Mary Jane sat in the chair by Peter's bed and quietly stroked his hand. She hoped that he would wake up and smile at her with all his illnesses disappeared.

"Hello." May said quietly toward Buffy. Buffy and Harry looked in her direction, the clogs in Harry's head began to turn.

"Oh sorry, Buffy this is Peter's Aunt May, May this is Buffy Summers, a friend of Peter's from California." Harry introduced the two women. They shook hands and Aunt May walked off past Buffy. She stood beside the chair that MJ sat on. The elderly woman noticed how much sunlight was in Peter's face. Peter seemed uncomfortable because of it. She walked over and closed the curtains on the room's window. Peter's features relaxed on his face. Buffy saw the happy look on Peter's face, thinking of it as a great sight.

"Peter what do you do when no one's around?" Harry laughed as he walked over and placed a, 'get-well,' card wrapped in a blue envelope on his bedside table. Mary Jane placed two more cards on the pile. "Well, I'll be back to see you later okay pal?" Harry asked his silent best friend. He was making his way to the door when May asked.

"Aren't you staying Harry?" She looked him up and down, he was in one of his formal businessman suits and so it looked like he might have somewhere more important to be.

"No sorry Aunt May." He apologised, opening the door. "The owner of Stark. Enterprises is in New York for a meeting with the new board of directors at Oscorp. They're expecting me in an hour and I've still got a headache from last night." He informed them, rubbing his head. His headache was actually a hangover from the scotch he had been drinking.

"Very well dear," Aunt May shooed him out the door. "We'll tell him that you had to go and that you'll come see him later." Harry pulled his head back in to the room.

"Thanks Aunt May."

She closed the door and turned her back on it. She did nothing but stare at Peter. His face had become more calm and relaxed since his family and friends had arrived. This was because his spider-sense had told his unconscious brain that they were there. This filled him with love and care.

May walked over to the window again and gently pulled one of sides and peered out.

"Thank you lord." She whispered and returned her attentions to the two girls and sleeping boy. "I just thought I would thank him. It's been a year since my husband was taken from me. I don't want my nephew to go on the anniversary of Ben's death." May stood by Peter's side and clutched his left hand.

"I remember Mr. Parker from when we were neighbours." MJ had let out a small tear, from thinking about all the pain the Parker family had endured. "He was a good man."

"Please dear." May fussed, "Call him Uncle Ben, after all you and Harry refer to me as Aunt May." MJ smiled.

Buffy stood, slightly outside the ring of family and life long friends to Peter, and wondered what these two women were talking about.

"Who's Ben?" She asked.

May and MJ were lost in a sea of memories but quickly hit dry land once they heard the question.

"Oh, Peter's uncle. Ben Parker, such a kind but ridiculous old man. He could turn anything in to a joke." May boasted about her late husband, smiling broadly, thinking of how Ben could always make her smile. "He taught Peter everything he knows about morals and right and wrong."

"And he's…?" Buffy didn't need to finish the question.

"Dead." May said plainly, thinking that the pain would leave if she was blunt about it. "He was murdered a year ago last night." She breathed heavily for a few minutes. "Poor Peter." She sighed and looked at his sleeping face. "It really hit home for him when Ben died." MJ was stroking his hand again.

Buffy was wondering about something else as well.

"Why did Peter live with his aunt and uncle? Why didn't he live with his parents?" She asked. May choked and MJ looked understandingly in May's direction then towards Buffy.

"You haven't known Peter that long have you?"

"We only met the other day."

"Peter's parents were killed when he was a baby." May answered Buffy's question. Peter was beginning to stir, to no one's attention, and could hear his Aunt May's voice. "We were his next of kin. Ben was his father's brother. So Peter and I aren't really related by blood." She sighed again. "But we're all that's left of the Parkers and we stick together." Peter smiled.

"Do you mind if I ask how his parents…?" Buffy was wondering if it was something like a murder or maybe even a vampire attack.

"Plane crash." Peter lifted himself up off the mattress and rested on his elbows. "Morning." He said cheerily.

"Peter. Thank God you're alright." May hugged her nephew firmly, "Now go back to sleep and rest." She ordered him. He lifted himself up.

"I will once I've gotten in to my own bed." He smiled at the occupants of the room. He pulled the bandage off of his face, the cuts had almost vanished. He looked at his reflection in the glass frame of the Hudson portrait. He then pulled the bandage back on, looked at the digital bedside clock and the pile of cards on the table. His legs were bandaged with thick fabrics and tingled painfully as he walked. His stomach felt like someone had ripped it open and tried to glue it back together. He checked under his hospital pyjamas, that someone had placed him in while he was asleep, and found a fading gash mark across his abdomen.

He was feeling much better but thought that maybe he could get a few days off work and university for this and lay down on the bed again.

"Although maybe you're right." He said, pulling the blankets over his waist. He seemed stress-free but only Buffy and he knew that this present state he was in wasn't going to last very long.

"Dear." May patted his head lovingly. "Harry was here, he said he would be back to see you later. He had to leave because he had an important meeting." Peter nodded, feeling disappointed with his friend, yet he felt he deserved it after the way he yelled at Harry the night before. "He left you a card." May motioned towards the small pile of cards and letters. Several more had appeared, as if by magic. The new pile of cards had atop them a note that read, 'Delivery courtesy of the marvellously magical Willow.'

Buffy caught a glimpse of the note and grinned. Peter pushed them aside before his aunt or Mary Jane could see the magically manifested letters. He lifted the three letters from Harry, MJ and Aunt May and opened them. One after the other, he read them and felt happy that he had such good friends and such a wondrous aunt.

Harry's card had an illustration of two friends standing side by side and cheering. On the interior of the card Harry had written a small passage of writing about getting better, but it gave Peter the idea that his best friend was feeling guilty for some reason.

May's card was petit and blue. It was written by an obviously wobbly hand, so much so that Peter could only just read it. It gave him the impression that May was worried about him, maybe because of the date that the event had taken place on. Anyway, the card was written out of love, Peter knew this because it was littered with kisses.

MJ's card took Peter by surprise. It was an impressive card, she had forgotten to remove the price tag and so Peter could see that she had spent thirteen dollars on the card. Mary Jane's writing had been rushed but it was filled with love. She hadn't written much about his need to get better but had written a lot about how much his safety meant to her. Her words were sympathetic and worried. Peter smiled awkwardly at her. She frowned, thinking that maybe she scared him off, that he thought she was trying to get a date when he was at his most vulnerable.

Peter stood the cards up on his bedside table. He looked back towards his friends and aunt and smiled at them. His eyes then located Buffy at the foot of his bed.

"No card?" He smiled.

"No time." She quipped back.

The two heroes smiled at one another. Buffy brushed a few strands of blonde hair from her face.

"So…" She was thinking of a good joke. "How about that hospital food huh?" Peter laughed.

Peter's spider-sense suddenly alerted him of something. Something loud had just entered the hospital and was making its way towards Peter's room. Buffy looked to her left, towards the door. Peter knew that she was hearing the noise and that she was expecting to stop it. Both Peter and Buffy were staring at the door while Mary Jane and Aunt May were both still watching Peter.

The noise got closer and with a monstrous bang the door flew open, partly due to the volume.

"Parker!" A booming voice that Buffy didn't recognise echoed across the hospital and its rooms. Everyone jumped as the tall image of a man with quite a ridiculous haircut appeared in the doorway. Buffy let out a small snigger at the weird, perfectly squared shape his hair stood in.

Peter jumped up in shock, he had never seen his boss, J. Jonah Jameson, outside of his office before. He was as he usually was; two trouser braces, a tucked in shirt, loose jacket, tight trousers and his trademark cigar. Peter had a theory that during his fight with the Green Goblin in the Daily Bugle building, Jonah hadn't let the cigar fall from his mouth then. It was only a theory which he couldn't back up because at the time he had so distracted with fighting the villain to notice the angry editor.

Standing beside J.J was an annoyed nurse who was barking viciously at him.

"This is a hospital Mr. Jameson! There is no smoking allowed in this building!" She pointed directly at his cigar that was hanging over the side of his bottom lip. "And you are making far too much noise!" He looked at her boringly.

He put on a fake smile and pushed her out the door.

"Am I really?" He asked, shoving her out and slamming the door. "Why don't you bring it up at the next book meeting?"

"Mr. Jameson! Hi!" Peter jumped to his feet. The editor stomped towards him and leaned threateningly forward, causing Peter to lean back against his bed.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing, lying around in a hospital when there's a mass murder scene that's just found down South?" Peter was about to open his mouth when a hand flew past his face and waved his answer away. "Forget it! All I want to know is have you gotten any photos of that red and blue spandex wearing, newspaper selling freak?" He turned his face so that the left side of his head was millimetres from Peter's eyes. J.J's left eye twitched as he described Spider-man.

"Well… Uh… I…" Peter babbled.

"I want an answer not a list of a baby's vocabulary!" Jonah prompted. MJ and May were in shock, they had heard of the legendary J. Jonah Jameson and his acidic tongue but never had they believed that there was a man with such rudeness and amazing impatience.

"Peter hasn't got any photos." Buffy was trying her best to keep calm. This guy was driving her through the roof. Jonah backed off Peter and looked over his shoulder at the blonde.

"How do you know? Who are you? Why do I care?" He said mockingly.

"I know because I was with Peter last night, my name is Buffy Summers and you care because I can tell you that Peter here was the victim of a gang war." She finished and Peter thought she was insane. She had actually mocked J. Jonah Jameson. This girl was tough, or stupid. Although for the first time in his life, Peter was glad that he was himself even with all the injuries. Peter knew that the gang war thing was a lie, but in a city where gangs fight constantly who'd notice if one photographer said he was hurt in one of the fights.

May gasped and hugged her nephew.

"Peter thank God you're alive. I've heard terrible things about those gangs. The last thing I'd ever want is for you to be one of the victims of such scum." She ranted and continually hugged him, making the pain in his shoulders increase from the amount of pressure being applied to them.

MJ also gasped, but didn't hug him, instead she rubbed his back in a friendly and worried way.

J.J had now let Peter be and was squaring on Buffy, he had been in so much shock from the fact that someone had spoken back to him that he almost dropped his cigar, almost… not quite.

"A gang war?" He gaped at her. "My best freelancer!" Peter's face lit up, Jonah turned back to face him. "Sorry, my only freelancer…" Peter went back in to a sulk. "… was attacked by a gang in a gang war?" Buffy nodded. She had seen nearly all vampire attacks in the west being told in the media as gang wars or government testing, etc. She knew that if they made a simple excuse that people would believe, it would sort itself out.

Jonah pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialled a number.

"Hoffman!" He bellowed in to the phone. The door behind him opened slightly and a man with thick glasses and black, greasy hair stuck his head around the corner.

"Yeah boss?" He said. Jonah jumped and slammed the phone back in to his pocket.

"Jesus boy, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" He gestured for Hoffman to come in. The man entered. "Anyway what are you doing here?"

"Well Robbie and I carpool and you called him to tell him about Peter, and…"

"Yeah, yeah okay. So is Robbie with you?" Jonah asked. Hoffman nodded. The negro newsman stuck his head around the door.

"Hi Pete." Robbie said. He walked in to the room with the usual confidence Peter always thought he had about him.

"Robbie! Great to see you!" Jonah welcomed his colleague. "Now why is half of my staff in this hospital room?" Hoffman raised his index finger and opened his mouth, about to say something. Jameson shoved his palm in the man's face. "Quiet!" He didn't take his eyes off Robbie. Robbie didn't make eye contact with Jonah, from fears that he would suffer the same torture that his co-workers seemed to suffer when they looked directly at Jonah.

"Well you told me that our best student freelancer was in hospital," He didn't mention that Peter was the only freelance photographer like Jonah did. Joseph 'Robbie' Robertson always saw the best in people, he was the one who calmed Jonah down when the aggression got too much. He was the one that continually kept telling J.J that Spider-man was the valiant hero of New York, "so I came to drop off a get-well gift and my best wishes." He handed a fruit basket, that he had carried in with him, to Mary Jane. Peter could see a note, stuck on the basket, with his workmates' signatures on it. Even Eddie Brock's autograph was on the card. Peter was surprised at this because he and Brock had been photographic rivals since he started taking pictures for the Daily Bugle.

Peter felt an emotion that he felt all too rarely, happiness. Usually he had been let down by the world but here was an example of others caring and supporting him.

Robbie then noticed the cards standing on Peter's bedside table and pulled a small set of cards from his jacket pocket. He handed them to May and then shook her hand.

"Hello Mrs. Parker." He smiled at her, she was happy to see a smiling face rather than the rampaging madman in the centre of the room. "I'm Joe Robbie Robertson. Peter speaks very fondly of you at the Bugle." May returned the smile.

"Well I'm glad to hear that."

Jonah and Hoffman were plaguing Buffy with questions and surrounded her so much that Robbie didn't get a look at her. If he had seen her face he would have recognised her from Peter's photographs from the Queens hospital. Robbie then shook Peter's hand once more and said his goodbyes.

"See you at work." He got to the door. "But I suppose you won't make work for a while." This immediately got Jonah's attention.

"The Hell he won't!" Jonah barked. "Parker! You're to be taking as many pictures of Spider-menace as you can and I want them on my desk by lunchtime! Oh and you're hospital bill will be sorted out by one of our employees." He leaned forward, towards Peter and stared, looking very serious. "You do have health insurance don't you?"

"Jonah." Robbie said, with a slightly pleading tone. "He can't work now, look at him. Boris Karloff didn't wear that many bandages on the set of, 'the Mummy.'" Jonah looked Peter up and down. The smoke from his cigar billowed in Peter's face, causing Peter to cough.

"Okay I'll give you a week off with a thirty percent cut in pay." Peter looked grateful, this was the highest form of generosity he had ever seen Jonah give. Jonah reached the door before turning back. "Parker?" Peter raised his head, expecting a get well wish from the seemingly new and more generous J.J. "Make that a fifty percent cut." Peter sulked once more and Jonah spun on his feet and stormed out. There was no reason for him to storm out, nothing had made him angry it's just that storming out of rooms was something J. Jonah Jameson was very good at, even if he did spend most of his time sitting down.

Robbie quickly gave Peter a thumbs up and strolled off down the hospital corridor. Hoffman shook Peter's hand, gave Buffy a Daily Bugle card with a number for her to call if she wanted to give her story and shook her hand too before leaving as quickly as he entered.


Peter awoke in the same hospital bed as he had been in all day. There were few minutes of sunlight left. His first intention was to look out the window, where he saw a natural red sunset. The brick stands of the Queensboro Bridge gleamed a reddish brown colour that stood out from the blue of the Hudson river. Peter pulled his legs up so that his knees pushed against his chest and were held in place by his arms and he rested his head on his knees. He watched the scene before him calmly. The small bit of land known as Roosevelt Island stood still and stood in the way of Peter's view of the sun's descent. Swiftly, the sun fell below the horizon and there was a light navy tinge to the sky. Peter had seen this before. Often were the times where he raced from work or family, just to get a view of the sunset. To him the sun was beautiful, it was the source of mankind's energy and made the most striking colours in the air. Peter's artistic side considered the sky as a canvas and the sun as an artist with the talent of a million Van Goghs or Picassos. The eraser was the pollution that rose from the factories of Roosevelt Island. Peter always thought that pollution was a menace, destroying anything beautiful and filling the environment with poison and death.

Peter noticed that he hadn't noticed the effluence until the sun was gone. He thought it was a bit funny how he only noticed horrible things after the light had gone.

'Well at least I had a chance to see the sunset before that pollution rose in front of it.' Peter thought. He remembered about the first few days of his Spider-man life, when he first gained his powers. For fun he had climbed both the Chrysler building and the Empire State building. He had enjoyed the design of the Chrysler building's structure and thought he looked cool, leaning over the eagle shaped statues. But the very top of the Empire State building was where he had been where the sun had set. It had caught his attention and he found himself sitting there and watching in awe at the sight of the giant ball of gas' dive below the city skyline and the sky's excellent change in colour.

Peter was lost in thought, his conscious mind was swimming in an ocean world of contemplation and mental soothing. His respect for the sunset had made him consider what vampires and other creatures there were running through the city that he was unaware of. He laid back on the bed and pressed his head against the wall behind him.

Then he spotted something, something on his table. Hidden under his digital clock was a flat, blood red envelope. Peter lifted the clock and pulled it out. He immediately sat up when he read that the card wasn't addressed to Peter Parker, but was instead addressed to, in dark, mysterious writing, 'Spider-man.' Peter ripped the edge off the envelope and pulled out the letter within.

The letter had been written on an, evidently, old piece of parchment. The edges of the paper were ripped and the paper was stained. The writing was fresh and had been written in black ink. The passage read,

'Hello Peter.

How are you? I heard that you were temporarily sited in a hospital bed and I was wondering how you found my little challenge?

Yes that's right I sent the werewolf after you. True, I didn't suspect he'd win, but then again I didn't know you were dealing with vampire slayers either.

I'll leave you with a word of warning young Mr. Parker. This was just the first. The first sign of my vengeance and trust me there will be more, And you will not survive. Goodbye Peter.

From ?'

The second Peter finished reading the letter, the small piece of paper's temperature suddenly increased and singed Peter's hands. He yelped and chucked it out in front of him as it burst in to flames. He pressed his fingers against his palms and put the fire out with a web.

The burnt article floated to the floor gently and rested flat upon the squeaky clean base. Peter looked down at it over the edge of the bed and found that all the letterings of the paper had burnt away. He shot another web at the paper and whipped up in to his hands. He placed it down on the table and stared forward. He went back in to his seated position, with his knees held against his chest and he rubbed the back of his head. He rocked back and forth gently and tried to calculate the answer to the mystery behind the unexplained letter.