"Who are you," the soft voice spoke as they stood upon a tower.

Peter looked around, eyes wide as the blond-haired girl stood before him.

"This is where it happened…" he thought. She looked exactly like she did on that day. Wearing the same green coat, same black shirt, same purple skirt. He looked at her with disbelief within his eyes, mouth formed in the biggest smile he could possibly muster as she stood before him.

"It's-its me Gwen!," Peter said as he grabbed her hand, "It's me, Peter!" he said as he pulled her in for a hug. She didn't reciprocate it though, she just stood there, limply.

"Who are you?" was all she said. He pulled her away, still keeping his hands on her shoulder. "Who are you?" she said again, staring blankly with her cold dead eyes.

"It's me, Peter...Peter Parke-,"

"No you aren't," she boldly interrupted.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

He tried his best to let go of her, to look away, but he couldn't, "Who are you?!" she said louder than before. He began sweating as his vision began blurring.

"Who are you!?" she yelled once again, His eyes widening as he had both hands on her neck.

He could slowly see red and blue cloth slowly envelope his body as his hands moved on their own. He tried looking away as one hand's palm was on her chin as the other hand held the back of her head.

As he felt the mask cover his face, all he could see was an empty expression on Gwen's face...

Before he snapped her neck

He jolted out of bed, eyes wide as he panted heavily.

He had the same nightmare again.

The same horrifying dream that left him sweating in his bed with tears welling in his eyes.

Chapter 1: I Get Along Without You Very Well

Looking around he found himself within his dimly lit room and sighed. He shifted from his position and sat down on the side of his bed, still breathing heavily as he rested his head within his hands. He stayed like that until his breathing settled and proceeded to glance upwards where the vibrant red light that belonged to his digital clock was. He sighed once more realizing that he once again woke up well into the afternoon, keeping the ever-growing streak going.

He left his position, deciding to scour the mess of clothes that decorated his floor. It was hard to see within the darkened room so he decided to move his window curtains to brighten up his depressing room. The brunette boy decided to take a small glimpse outside his window preparing himself to be blinded by the light of the sun but was surprised when he was met with something else. Darkened clouds hovered above long island once again, "God's obviously feeling the same way I am," Peter jokingly said however his voice lacked anything positive and his laugh was devoid of any humour.

He turned to see his reflection in the mirror which had grown to be even more unrecognizable as he wore a stained sleeveless shirt with a pair of wrinkled boxers. His brown hair had grown enough to cover most of his neck and his bangs long since covered his blue eyes.

He wanted to cut it but he would, like his room, deal with it later.

"Least I'm still built like Sam Mikulak," Peter thought. It was one of the few things he liked about his own reflection.

He went back to his original task of finding clothes that were suitable for the weather. He started picking up clothes from his floor but felt his face go inwards as they all smelt horrible. He decided to look underneath his bed, hoping that he'd find better options. He bent down on his knees and put one hand out to scour for clothes but as he was looking for them he stumbled upon something else. Stumbled is the wrong word for he knew it was there, he knew what he grabbed. The webbed pattern that stood a layer above the cloth was a dead giveaway.

He sat back down, silence ringing inside of his head as he just stared at his own reflection within the lenses. There were scratches on the one-way white plastic and darkened spots caused by explosives within the fabric of the mask. It was torn in some places and the webbed design was starting to peel off the fabric but despite the lack of care, he still treasured the mask.

He looked at it with a soft expression as he rubbed off some of the dirt on it. He let out a small, genuine smile, which was rare for him these days. Looking at it and feeling something other than disdain was even rarer.

But as he looked at his own reflection within the lenses, the memories came back and so did the disdain.

He squinted his eyes and looked away.

"I am Spider-Man, no more," he said softly, reiterating his vow. It's only been a year and a half and what happened? His uncle died, his girlfriend's father died, his girlfriend died, countless people he couldn't save died… and how many of them were his fault?

The answer was all of them.

All of them died because of him.

But still, even after making so many vows, he's still found himself questioning himself more and more as the days go by. He could feel the migraine coming again, the painful throbbing within his head, the suffocating feeling that found itself within his lungs, the rapid beating of his heart…

...the glare that's never wavered.

He knew she was there, waiting for his answer but he refused to look at her. He couldn't bring himself to, just like how he couldn't bring himself to wear the mask.

He was Peter Parker, just some guy from Queens.

He threw the mask across his room and lowered his head in shame, she still stood there though, her cold breath freezing the back of his neck as she waited for her answer.

He still couldn't give it to her.

Peter managed to find some clothes, ignoring the presence before going to the bathroom and taking a shower.

Aunt May could hear the footsteps of her nephew come down the stairs and a small smile grew as she took the meal she prepared hours prior from the oven. "Good morning Aunt May," Peter said as he let out a yawn. May put his cold food within the microwave for thirty seconds as he was approaching the dining room.

"Morning? Peter, it's three o'clock in the afternoon," May said with a small smile. She saw her nephew's eyes look down for a brief second before apologizing which caused May to let out a chuckle.

"Peter, you don't say 'sorry,' you say, 'good afternoon,'" She said as she took his food out of the microwave and went back to washing the dishes.

"Yea…" he murmured, "Good afternoon, Aunt May."

He took a seat at the dinner table, praying before he even touched his food.

"You know Peter…" she tried to say to get a response from the boy but he didn't bother looking, instead he just started eating the spaghetti she made "...Your friend Johnny called earlier," at this, she did get a response as the boy looked at her, surprised. She figured she was on the right track so she continued, "He wanted to know if you were available tomorrow to hang out."

"I-I...Maybe," he replied, hesitance in his voice as he twirled the spaghetti with his fork. "I think it's a wonderful idea Peter, it's been a long time since you've left the house," May said giving her opinion, trying to nudge her nephew into taking the invitation but all she got was an inaudible murmur.

She watched her nephew as his blue eyes were devoid of the shine they once had.

"You know… he's worried about you Peter, he asked me if you were alright," May said with a suddenly serious tone. She's tried to have this conversation before but always stopped herself before going too far.

"I'm worried about you too," May finished.

"I promise I'm fine Aunt May," he lied, she knew it, and she knew he knew it as well.

And with the both of them not knowing what to say, there was only an awkward silence.

The only thing that could be heard were the twirls of Peters's fork, Aunt May washing the dishes, and the T.V. playing in the background.

"...It's been one month since the last sighting of Spider-Man and his fateful battle against the Green Goblin who took countless lives including the lives of thirty-seven-year-old, CEO of Oscorp, Norman Virgil Osborn and daughter of the late police captain George Stacy, sixteen-year-old, Midtown Highschool student, Gwendolyn Stacy. With crime at its peak and growing unrest on the streets, there is one question that is on every New Yorker's mind right now and that is: Where is Spider-Man?"

"I sure do hope that he comes back soon, wouldn't you say so Peter?" Aunt May said absentmindedly.

"...I don't know…" Peter replied, doubt emanating from his voice.

"Why?" May said in a confused manner as she looked at her nephew, "I was under the assumption that you thought he was a hero."

"If he was a hero Aunt May...then how come he couldn't save her?"

"Peter…" May said as she paused her dishwashing. "He's not God you know, he can't save everyon-"

"-He should be able to Aunt May! He should! It's his fault she died!" he interrupted. "Oh, Peter..." Aunt May said as she was finally understanding what plagued her nephew. She didn't get a response but that was all she needed. "It wasn't Spider-Man who threw Gwen off the bridge."

"But he let her fall..."

"He tried his best to save her."

"And his best wasn't good enough! Gwen still died and it's his fault!" He slammed the table as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes "Peter….we all make mistakes...sometimes we aren't good enough...and superpowers or not, Spider-Man is still a man, no different from the rest of us," May paused as she took a seat in front of her nephew.

"What's important is that he doesn't let those mistakes stop him from doing what's right," she said as she put her hand over Peters. "How does he do that?" he said softly.

"By doing the hardest thing: forgiving yourself." She stated. "I believe in Spider-Man, Peter, you should too. It takes a special kind of person to be able to have the gifts he has and use them for the sake of others. I know Mr. Stacy, God rest his soul, believed in him among many others, and I know that if my Ben were here today, he would pray for him every day for all that he has done for us."

Peter looked at her, puzzled as to what she meant, "He saved my life, remember? even jumped in the way so I wouldn't get hurt and I'm just one of the many people he managed to save," She said with a fond laugh as she gushed about the unsung hero.

Peter looked down, taking in her words.

"You should forgive him Peter, he tried his best to save her, there was nothing else he could've done."

"He could've been better…" Peter mumbled, but May simply said, "and he will be when he comes back."

"What makes you think he'll come back?"

"Because the city needs him Peter and for the brief moment I was with him, never did he strike me as someone who would willfully ignore someone in need, whoever they are." Aunt May finished.

Peter looked on as she left her spot to continue her dishes, staring absentmindedly as he took in everything she said. Everything within his body screamed at him that she was right but as he saw the silhouette that stood afar outside his window, he still questioned himself.

"Peter!" Aunt May said gaining his attention, "Finish your food before it gets cold."

Peter's eyes widened as he completely forgot about the plate of spaghetti and meatballs that stood before him. He quickly went on to eat the classic Italian dish but not before saying something to his Aunts fleeing form.

"Hey, Aunt May," Peter said as he gained his aunt's attention.

"Thank you."


After finishing his food he left his house in Forest Hills much to his Aunt's worry but he reassured her that he would be back by eleven. She agreed to let him go after she approved of what he was going to wear. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt underneath a blue T-shirt for extra warmth, he also wore his uncle's old black waterproof pants.

He was obviously gonna wear his red raincoat and a pair of blue insulated rubber boots which also belonged to his uncle. After getting ready she kissed him on the forehead and said, "eleven O'clock sharp, okay," she said, eyeing the boy.

He nodded and she let him go.

His walk through Queens was a peaceful one, albeit a windy one but the strong winds didn't phase him like it did most people. He decided to go to an old park and mindlessly walk down a path he's been on a million times as the trees rattled because of the fierce wind.

He could hear the sound of the lake nearby and fondly remembered a spot he used to go to with his uncle. He changed his course and reached the entrance that belonged to a small bridge that arched over a river which led to the lake. He walked to the top of the arch and leaned over the edge of the bridge, gazing at the dark blue water that reflected the countless trees and monotone sky.

He took in a deep breath as he recalled the fond memories he had with his uncle. He always liked this spot, it was quiet and peaceful, removed from the outside world.

What would Uncle Ben think of him if he saw him like this?

Would he be disappointed? Would he be sad? Would he understand?

Peter let out a saddened smile as his uncle would most likely just walk to his side and wrap his arm around his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

He needed his uncle right now, needed to hear his voice and his infinite wisdom.

He needed him to tell him another corny catchphrase.

He let out an empty chuckle.

He missed him so much.

He solemnly looked down at the river beneath him, looking at his own reflection once again. He blinked his eyes repeatedly however as it wasn't the reflection he hated but one that belonged to his beloved uncle.

He blinked multiple times, wondering if it would go away but it didn't.

He was smiling at him, his warm blue eyes looking at his own.

He missed him so, so much.

If he just stopped that man that day, Uncle Ben would still be here.

Instead, he died senselessly.

He blinked at his uncle's reflection and it changed into his own but instead of seeing his own blue eyes, he was greeted with white lenses. He saw himself wearing the costume this time, its movement mimicking his own.

"Not senselessly," it said, "You gave it meaning."

He knew what his mind was trying to tell him but as he could feel the cold gaze yet again he looked the other way.

"You looked the other way before."

He closed his eyes as the sound of police sirens began to ring throughout his head.

He could hear his aunt crying in the back as the voice of the officer spoke to him.

"Your uncle's been murdered."

"And you're doing it again," the soft voice of Gwen spoke behind him.

"What do you want from me?!" he asked as he breathed heavily, turning around to face the girl. "I thought you wanted Spider-Man gone," he furiously said but she wasn't there.

No one was.

He turned to the river only to see his own ugly reflection.

He looked around as the leaf's whistled around him and sighed, "maybe I'm not as fine as I thought I was…" he said as he went the way he came.

He decided to go into the main part of Queens, hoping that the area that bustled with people and cars would distract him from his internal struggle.

He always liked how walking through Queens was like travelling around the world. You could have Tibetan dumplings for lunch and empanadas for dinner. There was a little Italy, little China, little everything, and the best part about it was that there were so many different people from so many different places, with so many different stories.

He looked through a restaurant's front windows as he walked outside on the sidewalk. There were people enjoying time together with family, friends…

...He didn't have many friends, with one of them dead and the other ghosting him, the only friend he really had was Johnny and he hasn't talked to him in days.

He should take him up for his offer to hang tomorrow.

He was lucky to have him as a friend, he was even going out on patrols to make up for Spider-Man's absence, Matt as well but Matt was...well he was Matt.

He looked upon the horizon, looking at the city that called to him. People were getting hurt, crimes were happening much more now and if Matt's info was right, there was even a new player in town.

The city needed him now.

Knowing about all the things that were happening and realizing that he was just sitting around selfishly was killing him on the inside but could you blame him? He watched the girl he loved die right in front of him, because of him.

"Because of Spider-Man," he corrected.

He could feel raindrops start hitting his head, taking him out of his thoughts. He quickly put up his hood, not wanting to get his hair wet. He looked up to hear the growls coming from the clouds. "I should head back home," he thought but he turned his attention back to the city that sat on the horizon.

He looked down the street he was on, noticing the endless cars that went as far as the eye can see.

But from afar he could see a bus with orange lights on it.

He turned back to the city that seemed to be calling to him and then back to the bus he knew too well.

He forgets when his simple walk around Queens becomes a walk down the city streets he's spent so much time soaring above. The rain was going full force now as he was standing within the heart of the storm. The rain gear he was wearing however made him all but invulnerable as his body, except for his face, remained dry from the storm.

He would have to thank his aunt later.

He always liked the rain, there was something about it that always soothed his mind; It was like a shelter he could take solace in. He walked down the desolate streets, wondering where all the people were for it was only seven O'clock and no one was around. Sure, there might currently have been a rainstorm going on but it was still New York, the city that never sleeps.

With all the crime going on however he couldn't fault people for wanting to stay indoors. Superstitious and cowardly criminals went as well with rainstorms as peanut butter did with jelly.

To his surprise though, he did hear the rumbling of a motorcycle. His hood hid his blue eyes as he watched the Harley drive past him, the driver from what he could briefly see was a girl, at the very least her build was, as her face was covered by a visored helmet. Her black locks flowing in the wind as she drove past him, not even batting an eye.

He would be lying if he said he never wanted a motorcycle. If he were being honest, he would like one of those bikes they used for racing, coupled with his spider-sense his driving at those speeds would be unparalleled.

If he knew how to drive, he thought.

"One day," he said to himself and on that day the world's first wall riding a motorcycle would come to existence. "I wonder what she's doing out here," he thought. Hopefully, she also wasn't sulking around like he was and off to go somewhere with people who cared about her. Better yet, hopefully, she doesn't get sick. Not everyone was gifted with spider powers that made you practically immune to almost every disease on the planet.

Not everyone was gifted with spider powers.

He couldn't help but remember the words of his Uncle. They belonged to his father apparently, and from what he found, they were an abbreviation from the gospel of Luke

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked (Luke, 12:48)

He did tell his aunt he would keep up with the bible.

He would never tell her that he liked his uncle's words more.

Her relationship with God was a lot stronger than his...

That statement could actually be disputed because he and God do have this little game. It's only been a year and a half since the game has started so they are still working on the finer details but it works like this: he does something really spiteful to someone he cares about, and Peter gets to ask questions.

They usually go like, "Hello God, it's Peter again, why did you do this to me?"

He looked up and actually started talking to the one who stood above all.

"Why did you give me these powers? Why do you insist on making my life hell? Like am I supposed to be the modern-day Job?" he looked down before looking up again. "I know my aunt speaks highly of me and I know my uncle thought that I was destined for great things but... I'm just Peter Parker...a guy from Queens..." he said, finally putting his head down. "If this is a test then let me fail because I got something to tell you...I'm this close to breaking," he said as he looked at his own reflection on the side of the building.

He didn't do anything and that's what got his uncle killed. He put on a costume and helped people and that's what got Gwen killed.

What was he supposed to do?

His hood was off, his face was drenched, and he grew increasingly irritated the more he looked at his sorry self.

"C'mon God! Give me something!" he yelled.

Thunder roared as he heard the faint sound of cars crashing.

He looked towards the direction where it came from but before he could investigate he suddenly felt a sharp throbbing pain within his head and knew he regretted asking. He leaned against the window as he put his hand against his head.

He was worried, people could be getting hurt right now and he was stuck in place because of a migraine.

He didn't want more people to die.

As he stared at the darkened clouds he could feel the familiar glare and as he turned around, there she stood, standing within the reflection of a window. Her dead eyes looking at him as she stood limply, like a puppet on strings. Her mouth opened and as he expected her to ask her question, but she said something else instead, "Now is the time to choose," she said in the same monotone voice.

"I can't…" was all Peter could say.

"Leave then, let someone else bear the burden," She said as lightning struck.

"There is no one else!" Peter urgently yelled as the thunder roared with him.

"There was the girl, she could help."

"You know I can't just leave it to someone else?"

"Can't or won't?" she asked as lighting once again struck once again.

Peter paused and looked at her cold dead eyes before letting out a sigh.

"They're the same thing." He said in a defeated tone, looking away as the thunder growled above.

"Then answer the question…" she demanded.

He sighed in defeat as he was about to give her the answer but his eyes widened as a monstrous roar reached his ears.

Gwen just looked at him blankly.

The roar was followed by an even louder crash with car horns echoing down the streets.

"Who are you?"

He gave his answer when he heard the cry for help. As he ran at a pace faster than most cars, he could hear the soul-shattering snap that would haunt him for the rest of his days, but he didn't look back.

He didn't see the smile that crossed her face as it watched him runoff.

"...Peter…"