For a moment, the comfort she felt urged her to drive her face further into the worn-out pillow, inhaling the new scent that had become so familiar in just one night. The occasional sounds of traffic which drifted in from the window gave June the first reminder that she was not in her room, or any room in her universe which had ever been hers. Blinking away the sleep, she had to fight the sudden surge of power in her when she realized that her face was within six inches of Peter's. From this proximity, she could make out a small mole on his left cheek she had not noticed the night before and the beginnings of light stubble which suited the cut of his jaw. It surprised her, she paused to think, what a peaceful sleeper he seemed to be. Having lived the last decade with one super or another, this was not what she was used to. Reluctantly she moved her eyes from his face and looked around at the dim grey morning light of the apartment and an idea came to her.

Still clad in Peter's Garfield sweatshirt, she lightly rose from the futon, padded across the room to the small kitchenette and opened the fridge. Peter didn't have much, but she'd expected no different. She'd have to use her magic.

Peter stirred for the first time in a long time not at the behest of his Spidey senses. He smelled something good. Thoughts of last night came to him and instinctively he found himself reaching for the mysterious witch that had all but fallen on his doorstep. The bed was empty.

"June?" Peter called, his eyes furrowing as he sat up too suddenly for even him.

"Buenos días," he heard to his left. Whipping around, he spotted her at his small kitchen counter, plating food he knew hadn't been in his fridge. Getting out of the futon groggily, Peter felt his mouth begin to salivate as he neared her. It was a pretty spectacular image altogether: the amazing smell of whatever she was cooking in the pan, her hair lightly tied back as she padded around his kitchen in his clothes.

"Buenos días yourself," he said before clearing his throat of early morning cobwebs, "So umm what's all this?"

"Well, I was really grateful for all your help last night and I know that super hero-ing doesn't give you a lot of time for things like a home-cooked breakfast," she said as she moved eggs around the pan, "so I just wanted to show my appreciation."

"Oh you don't have to–" he started, waving a hand.

"Yes," she interjected turning her eyes on him, "I did."

He smiled and nodded before eyeing the food. "So, what is this?"

"Well, I hope you like huevos rancheros. It's one of the only breakfast foods I know how to make successfully," she said as she plated the eggs from the stove.

"I thought you said your dad could only make an omelet," he teased.

"Oh no," she said waving a hand, "I said my dad attempted to make an omelet. My mom on the other hand was always talented in the kitchen. Annoyingly, effortlessly even."

Peter nodded, again catching the past tense way she discussed her mom. He would ask later; June seemed to be in a good mood despite her current predicament. He quirked his brow, eying the plate she handed him.

"It's not poison," she said taking a bite of her own for show.

"Umm, no I'm sure it's not, it smells great. But I don't think I had avocado in my fridge…or tortillas…or is that cilantro…?"

June pursed her lips feigning a look of innocence. "Like I said, I wanted to show my gratitude."

"Wait…so you made all this with magic?" he asked, taking the plate and bringing the food just beneath his eyes.

"You know, normally people use their mouths to eat," she said settling into one of the bar stools and digging in, "And yes. Magic breakfast."

Settling in next to her, Peter was preoccupied with observing the food before him, "So…you just summoned it? Out of thin air?"

"Mhm," she said absentmindedly through a mouthful of food.

"Just…just like that?" he asked snapping his finger.

"Hmm," she contemplated, "More like this." With a flourish of her right hand an apple suddenly appeared amid a brief blur of gold smoke. She offered it to him with a hint of irony.

Peter eyed the apple humorously, "You know most witches that offer the hero of the story an apple are trying to poison them."

"Well, I'm not most witches," she said with a smirk disappearing the apple once again, "And you're not most heroes."

Peter smiled to himself, turning back to the breakfast in front of him. "This smells amazing. Nobody ever cooks for me except Aunt May, and well…it depends on what she's making."

She smacked him lightly on the arm, "Ingrate. I'm sure she does her best."

"She does," he nodded, "I'm just saying this is a real treat."

She laughed lightly, "Well gracias, I will take the compliment."

Forking a piece of avocado and egg, he knit his brows close together in question. "If this is magic food? Does that mean no calories?"

She laughed loudly and set down the forkful of tortilla and tomato she'd been about to eat. "No, the magic made the food, but it's real and so are the calories."

"Good, cause Spider-Man is a growing boy," he said as he dug in. A few times he made semi-obscene moaning sounds at how good the food was. She laughed and offered seconds, which he gladly accepted. When he offered to do the dishes, she smirked, summoning a clean pan and cutting board with an intricate wave of her hands. He observed open-mouthed for a moment in appreciation.

"But I mean hey, you got the lights last night with your web. That was cool, too" she said teasingly.

"Don't attempt to bolster my confidence. Yours are useful on a whole other level," he said before insisting on washing their plates by hand. She watched quietly across the bar as he did, appreciating the way his back muscles moved through the shirt with the circular motions he made with the sponge.

"What's on the witch's mind?" he asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Oh…nothing, just you know…Spider-Man doing the dishes…in an alternate universe," she replied nonchalantly.

"Well, you know I gave my butler the day off. Guy works too hard dusting the Spider Cave and raising my young ward," he said with a smile. June smiled back. "Plus, we've yet to establish just whose universe should be considered the 'alternate one.'"

"Hmm…true, but you know mine has magic, super groups, advanced technology–"

"Yeah, but mine's got my singular and winning personality," he shot back with a smile.

"Aw well, you got me there," June laughed, though she quietly agreed.

"So, have you given any thought to where you'd like to start today with our quandary?"

June was snapped back into problem-solving mode. This small bubble of domesticity with Peter was not real life, and she reminded herself she needed to get back to real life.

"You don't have work or class or anything you need to get to?" she asked.

He shrugged, "It's Saturday, so I don't have anything to do but some Spider-Manning later. I can help you if you like. We can spend the day together looking for anything that might help."

She nodded. Spending the day with this Peter in this version of New York didn't sound so bad, she admitted to herself. "Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe we can go to the library. They tend to carry newspaper clippings and microfiche if our online research hits a snag. Maybe there's something that'll help me."

Peter set the last dish down in the rack, toweling his hand before nodding at the sweatshirt she wore. "So, are you going to go with Garfield or in your Sorceress get-up? Both, I think, are a little conspicuous."

She arched her brow at him a little. "I just summoned a whole Mexican breakfast for us; you think it'll be hard to turn my robes into some jeans and a t-shirt?"

He threw his head back in mock incredulity smiling, "Well, now I feel silly lending you Garfield."

She shook her head looking down at the sleeve cuffs around her fingers, "Not at all. It was a nice gesture. Besides," she motioned to the image of Garfield in his Halloween costume, "it's very on brand for a witch such as myself."

"Good, good, so long as it's not cultural appropriation," he said holding his hands up.

"Nah, not at all. Now Hocus Pocus, that's offensive," she laughed on her way to the restroom. Peter grinned as he watched her go.

In just over an hour, she and Peter were ready to go. June transfigured her robes into a pullover sweater with the same deep blue color and stitched stars in the bottom corner near her hip. Her wedged boots she kept as-is over a pair of blue jeans she summoned in a style similar to her favorite pair back home. She even kept the hole in the left pocket the whole getting ready situation had been very ad hoc. Peter only had the one towel and, astonishingly for a guy with such voluminous hair, one sad bottle of an off-brand Irish shampoo/bodywash combo. Had she been without magic then the freshening up, drying off, and basic grooming would have been a nonstarter.

She nodded appreciatively at Peter's Ramone's t-shirt when she walked out of the restroom, Peter smiling back before doing a double-take. He sat at edge of the futon tying his laces as she strode out, his eyes going from her knee-high boots, to her form-fitting jeans, resting on how well she filled out the dark blue sweater. He felt his chest swell suddenly with nerves at how good she looked. Swallowed in his oversized clothes and in her robes, her figure had been hidden; this was the first time he had gotten a good look at her and he felt his palms start to sweat.

"Not too spooky, I hope?" She smiled noting his face which she interpreted as perplexed.

"No, erm not uh not spooky at all," he said dragging his eyes back to his shoes before reaching for his hoodie and wallet.

"So you've got the Ramones here?" June asked making small talk as he gathered himself, no items to collect herself.

"Yeah, yeah," he said avoiding looking at her as he looked around frantically, feeling as if he was forgetting something. "You uh you like them in your universe?"

"Oh yeah, them, AC/DC, Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd. Honestly, you can't have a dad like mine and not."

"Huh, I don't think we have a band named Pink Floyd here. Sounds sexual," he joked looking around the kitchen counter.

"Really? Dark Side of the Moon? The Wall? I don't know what I would do without the Wish You Were Here album," she said floored by yet another revelatory difference between their universes, "What are you looking for?"

"House keys," he said scratching his head, "I can never find them."

"Umm Peter," she said beckoning his attention. Reluctantly, he looked up to see her pointing back at him, specifically toward his crotch. Startled, he looked down to see his Lego keychain dangling out of his pant pocket.

He sighed embarrassed before looking back up and smiling despite himself. "Ready to go?"

They took the train comfortably in each other's company, coffee in hand that Peter had bought them. June had protested, saying she could summon a ten-dollar bill, but Peter had insisted. Truth be told, she felt a little weird about summoning money, but had never in her life been without it. When they walked down to the 1-line station, Peter had laughed after June paused to ask whether they would be allowed to take coffee on the subway.

"Wow is your privilege showing. I thought you lived in New York."

She blushed, "I have stayed in New York, but I lived in the Hudson Valley at the Compound after I left L.A. And…"

"And?" he encouraged as he sat next to her.

"And…I always had Happy to drive me places," she muttered reluctantly.

"Happy?"

"Happy Hogan. He's like…my dad's bodyguard, driver, wingman, best friend, drinking buddy, sparring partner kind of all wrapped into one. Happy is my godfather, so it's all very nepotistic," she explained, her heart aching slightly for Happy as she pictured him, hoping he wasn't too worried.

Peter seemed to sense the sudden change in her and said softly, "Hey, we'll find answers. We'll figure out a way to fix this. You'll see him again."

She nodded, "I just can't help but come back to the same conclusion that if time here runs parallel to time there, then they must know I'm gone by now and they're freaking out. Or they think I'm dead, because all the Sorcerers are dead, and nobody is around to tell my dad that I went through a freaking dumbwaiter into an alternate dimension and met…and met you and I'm alive but stuck. Then, there's the really fun scenario in my head where everyone in my dimension is dead because Kaecilius and his band of merry men opened up the dark dimension in the streets of Hong Kong and it's consumed my whole universe."

No stranger to a full tilt spin-out himself, Peter hesitantly reached out his hand and set it on June's. "Hey, hey, hey, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna go to the library and see if we can get some answers. Magic brought you here, and your magic still works here so that's gotta be a sign that it can send you back. So the way I see it, it's not an issue of if but when and how."

She nodded, trying to use the feel of Peter's lightly calloused fingers on her hand as a parachute down from her anxieties.

"I just…I can't help but feel helpless sitting here not knowing what's happening on the other side. And honestly, just guilty," she said honestly.

"Guilty?" he asked moving closer.

"Well," June fought the blush she could feel invading her cheeks, "I'm not having a terrible time."

Peter had to fight the smile back, though it tugged incessantly at the corners of his mouth and eyes. The past twelve hours had certainly not been terrible for him either.

He nodded, the physicality doing little to abate his grin, "Well I'll take that as a compliment. I hope I've been a good universe host."

She laughed lightly, "No universe ever had a better one. Though maybe I can return the favor one day."

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be pretty cool. I wanna see your Compound and Super Squad–"

"Avengers."

"Avengers," he corrected himself, "I'd like to see it all. Your Avengers and your Witch House."

"Sanctum. A Sanctum is where sorcerers practice sorcery," she explained with slight amusement. Peter leaned back but did not move his hand. He was unsure how to take back the gesture now that it had been put out there. Regardless, June didn't pull her hand away either.

"So…why are you not a Sorcerer?" he asked. She pressed her lips together for a moment.

"Because…my sort of magic is witchcraft. It's different. According to the Sorcerer Supreme, my magic is more visceral and feral, so to speak. It's not bound by some of the same rules that sorcery is," she explained.

"Ah, so you're a rebel," he teased.

"Something like that. The only thing is…it was kind of on a need-to-know basis that my magic was different. She didn't think it a good idea for others at the Sanctum to know. I guess there's some prejudice against witchcraft in general. Other sorcerers see it as a dangerous kind of magic," she replied, slightly worried at Peter's reaction.

He shook his head slightly, "Sorry, not-nothing on you. That just sounds a little high school of them is all. I mean, you can't just lump all people in like that. Look at this guy Kaecilius, for instance. He's a sorcerer and look at all the choices he made. You're a witch, but you'd never do the things he's done."

She cocked her head as she looked at him, "How do you know that? How are you so sure I wouldn't?"

He smiled patting her hand before he crossed his arms, "Call it my Spidey sense, June."

A library was a library in any universe and June was comforted by the smell of books that wrapped around her like a giant blanket. Peter led the way to the back where the computers were and they set off to work. As the science nerd he was, Peter began looking into wormholes, string theory, and anything else he could think of; the deeper he got into his research, the messier his hair got. June tried to find anything on Kamar Taj, the Ancient One, and the community that had sheltered her the past six months. There were no leads. Finally after a couple hours of dead ends, she slumped in her chair with a sigh and buried her hands in her face.

"Any luck?" Peter asked across from her. June shook her head.

"I think I'm gonna look into my family now. See if I can get a pulse on my dad and the other Avengers," she replied.

Peter nodded and refocused on his screen.

Tony Stark, she typed into the Google search. Nothing on her dad whatsoever.

"Hey, June…Umm I think I might have found something," came Peter's voice from around the monitor.

"On navigating the multiverse?" she asked.

"No erm, on why you can't find anything on your dad…" he trailed off. She stood and walked over to where he sat, taking in the headline on the screen. It was an old headline, as in very old. Dated August 3, 1943, the headline read: BOMBING IN BROOKLYN: SENATOR BRANDT AND INVENTOR HOWARD STARK AMONG THOSE MURDERED BY NAZI ATTACK. June felt her stomach bottom out, her legs feel shaky, and suddenly the grip she had on the back of Peter's chair felt necessary.

"Hey, hey, sit down," he said getting up and steering her into his chair as her eyes remained on the screen. He crouched next to her and read silently. She skimmed the article as best as she could given that the print had been slightly smudged when it had been scanned. It seemed that the secret lab that had been the birthplace of Captain American in her world had been bombed. Unlike her version of reality, HYDRA had decided to go big and wipe out the entire operation. The United States had retaliated with an atomic bomb aimed at HYDRA's main base for the attack on American soil. Howard Stark had died young before he could build Stark Industries into the behemoth it would become. June zeroed in on the picture of her young grandfather, his smirking confidence an image she well remembered. As a child she had often searched this picture for any likeness they might have shared. Beneath his face was a list of casualties. To her horror, Steven Rogers, 25 was listed among them; the sole survivor a Margaret Carter, 23.

"It's no wonder…HYDRA killed my grandfather and Captain America. Without them there's no Avengers, no S.H.I.E.L.D. My dad was never even born. So…so I don't exist in this reality," she processed slowly.

Peter turned to look at June, a sadness taking root in his gut at the thought that there was no June in his world, at least not one that belonged there. He had thought, well hoped, that maybe there was a June Stark that was meant to be there just like how there was a Peter Parker that belonged on her Earth. To hear that she didn't exist made him incomprehensibly sad and made the lone June before him seem that much more precious.

She sat back in the chair for a moment, her mind spinning. She had been somewhat hopeful that there would be some alternative version of her father walking around out there, poorer but just as sarcastic, that could possibly help her through this. June felt alone as the newspaper cover glared back at her. Then, a sudden thought occurred to her. She nagged at herself not to get her hopes up, but it was in vain as her fingers opened up a new tab.

"What are you looking for now?" asked Peter. No answer as she typed, "June?"

"It may be nothing, but I just need to see…"

"See what?" he asked as she clicked on the magnifying glass to launch her search. Her breath came out in a couple short gasps as she moved closer to the screen.

"She's alive," she whispered with renewed hope as she fixed her eyes on the search results.

"Who?"

"…My mom."