Chapter Text
Later, if you had asked Peter what it felt like to travel through an interdimensional portal created by an insane, evil wizard high on his own self-importance, he would describe it as going something a little like this:
Imagine that you are a strawberry.
Now imagine there is a giant that has just plucked you from your plant, your home, and everything that you know.
Now imagine this giant has a blender and a massive appetite for strawberry smoothies.
You might think you know where this is going, but you haven't stretched your imagination quite far enough.
Because, once you have been chopped, diced, and pureed within the swirling vortex of the blender, the giant decides he is no longer in the mood for smoothies and instead dumps the whole lot, with you included, into the toilet. From there you are flushed down and spat out into the sewer system. Tossed about, careening through the pipes, barely keeping your head above water, you finally feel yourself go weightless and then you fall, and fall, and fall some more until at last, you land square on you face onto a hot, cement roof.
Okay, maybe the extended strawberry metaphor is a bit overdramatic, but you get the gist of just how much Peter did not like being sucked into Mr. Wizard-face's weird portal.
Still lying on his face, his head screaming and pounding in pain, Peter groaned piteously. Nausea boiled in his stomach and he couldn't recall a time in his life when he had ever been this motion sick. Not even that one time Uncle Ben had taken him fishing with a friend on his charter boat in New Jersey had it been this bad. And up to this point, he didn't think anything could ever beat thebswell of the waves and the smell of rotting fish …
Peter gulped and gagged, trying even harder to not think about that trip … or New Jersey.
But it was too late. He turned hot and then cold and his mouth watered uncontrollably. He peeled his face from the cement and propped himself up to his hands and knees. He pulled his mask up to his nose just in time for his stomach clench. Then everything came up, including what had been a really great meatball sub from Delmar's and some half-digested gummy bears. When he had nothing left in him and after the dry heaves passed, Peter took a moment to spit and clear his nose, panting heavily, shaking all overy his body.
God, he felt so gross.
Peter crawled away from the mess on the cement and looked up through blurry, unfocused eyes. A colorful blob several feet away from him was standing up and extending his arms. He made a circular motion with his hands and Peter didn't need to clearly see the dude to know that he was trying to create another portal through which to escape.
How unfair was it that this guy seemed to be okay enough after that journey to already be on his feet while Peter could barely hold his head up and his lunch down?
The painful throbbing between his temples reminded Peter that it may not have been just the journey through the portal that was the main culprit for his current sluggishness and inability to find his feet, but the sudden stop at the end when he landed on his skull.
Great … another concussion. What did that make now? Two or three in the last few months? Peter wasn't sure, but then again, he was concussed and remembering things was a little tricky right then.
Peter had barely made it to his knees by the time the wizard had finished making a new, regular old portal. Unlike the last one, this one was pretty mundane and looked like it led to somewhere in Asia. He turned back towards Peter with a triumphantly smug smile and the young boy vaguely noted how bright white the guy's hair was compared to his dark skin. Trying to focus, Peter prayed for the world to be still for a second and stop spinning. If he could get his vision to quit splitting the other man into two, maybe he could stop the guy.
He tried to will his body to move, but Peter's arms shook with the strain of just holding his torso up.
“Good-bye, Spider-man.” the sorcerer said without any fear that Peter would follow this time, clearly seeing his weakness. “I trust you can make your own way home.”
And with that, the man passed through the sparking portal and it snapped shut.
Arms giving way, Peter promptly fell on his face again and everything went black.
……
When he next opened his eyes, it was significantly darker out than it had been before, but he had no idea how long he had been out.
He groaned and rolled onto his back. His head felt a little better and the pain had quieted down enough that he could think a little clearer, but his whole body continued to ache and complain.
He still had no idea where he was or what time is was, but of one thing Peter was certain, it was that he was never doing a favor for Dr. Strange again.
Previously on Peter screws the pooch, or about 1 hour ago:
It sounded like a pretty easy task at first.
However, Peter probably should have asked a few more questions before jumping on board. All Dr. Strange really told him was that a former student of the same magical kung fu school he had gone to had gone rogue and was breaking into sanctums around the world. The doctor was sure that the guy, whose name was Xander or Xandy or something like that, would hit the New York sanctum next. Apparently, he was looking for some kind of magical wand, so Strange called and asked Peter for a quick hand in setting a trap for him.
“All you need to do is grab his attention and keep him away from the Wand of Watoomb.” Dr. Strange stopped and pointed to a display case where something that looked more like a shiny relay race baton than a magic wand sat in full view, a tempting lure for the coming thief. He had to admit it looked pretty cool with two gold demon heads protruding from both ends, but Peter really didn't see what the big deal about the stick was.
“What does it do?” Peter asked.
“It focuses the power of its wielder, much like a laser. It can concentrate that power to such a degree that it can actually tear a hole through our reality and connect with other dimensions and possibly other universes.”
“Whoa. Super cool.”
“Indeed. Super cool,” Strange agreed with an almost imperceptible and fleeting smirk, “and super dangerous. That’s why it is very important that we keep it out of Xandu’s hands. Think you’re up to the task?”
“No problem.” Peter assured him, starting to feel a rush of anticipation. This was the first time Dr. Strange had come to him for help and the fact that he was actually trusting him with a such an important task made him feel needed in a way he hadn't felt in a long while. If he was honest, it kinda felt good to have his abilities acknowledged by another superhero, even if it mostly was because Wong was out of town visiting his mother.
While most of the Avengers like Hulk and Sam and Wanda were trying to rebuild after all that had happened, he had mostly been relegated to the sidelines. The others didn’t really know him and they were hesitant to fully bring a teen into the fold, which was kinda okay with Peter for the time being. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for any big battles again and what he’d seen of war so far was more than enough for him.
“I need you to lure him to the roof since it's an open space away from any potential bystanders. Once there, keep him distracted while I use the holy hand grenade to subdue him.”
Of course, that wasn't what the thingy was called, but the little round object in his hand that he showed Peter kinda looked like it.
“This relic is ancient, but will render a sorcerer's power inert for days.” Strange explained.
"That's pretty cool, but if you don't mind me asking, why does this guy want the wand so bad? " Peter asked, curious about the man he was to confront.
Dr. Strange sighed, almost sadly, "I believe that this has something to do with Xandu's wife, Melinda. She was a sorcerer as well, but was killed during the final battle with Thanos. I think he aims to use the wand to either find a universe where she's still alive or he means to pierce the veil between life and death and attempt to pull her out. Either way, he must be stopped. If the wand is not used correctly, it could tear apart space and time or worse, collapse our universe into a singularity that causes all matter to be compressed into a ball the size of a dime.
"Yipes." Peter blew out a breath, "Okay, got it. Keep bad guy from magic wand or we could all be smooshed."
"Indeed."
Shortly after that, Dr. Strange retreated while Peter kept watch over the sanctum’s huge gallery. He swung himself up towards the ceiling and shot out a short web he could hang upside from and enjoyed the blood rush the inversion gave him.
Karen asked if he'd like to listen to music while he waited. He really wanted to since it was a little boring just hanging around, hoping this guy would break in, but he needed to stay sharp and focused. He needed to prove to not just Dr. Strange, but also to himself, that he could do this and that maybe the last few months hadn't messed him up so completely that he was useless; that maybe he was healing a little.
And moving on, like everyone but him seemed to be doing so easily.
As if on cue, said bad guy showed up just as the doctor had predicted, using one of those golden, sparking portal thingies to appear in the middle of the sanctum.
“Hey Xanax, weren't you ever taught to knock before coming into someone's house?” Peter quipped as he thwipped out a web and swung from his perch on the ceiling.
The guy jerked in surprise to see a 140 lb red and blue spider careening in his direction, but to his credit, he recovered quickly. He rubbed his hands together and a glowing ball of energy formed between them.which he then overhanded, hurling it at Peter like he was Nolan Ryan and this was the last pitch or the World Series.
Peter was just a little shy of fast enough to dodge the ball, and it hit him in the left hip. It wasn't a enough of a blast to cause injury, but the impact threw him enough to make Peter twist awkwardly in mid-air and pull on the web too hard, causing it to snap.
Gravity did the rest.
Peter landed hard on the first floor but not before crashing through a chandelier and the bannister of the stairs on his way down.
“Ow.” He groaned, pushing debris off his legs and slowly sitting up amidst a pile of wood.This was one of those times he was grateful for his spider DNA. He wasn't indestructible, but his body was tougher than the average human and he could take a pounding. Nothing felt broken, but he was pretty sure he'd have some bruises, especially to his ego.
Xanadu grinned at him from the top of the stairs, triumphant.
“Hello, Spider-man.” The guy sneered, “I was expecting Strange to beg for help from his friends, but color me unimpressed with his choice. I guess all of the real Avengers have better things to do. Except for Ironman, of course. Being dead and all.”
Oh no. This dude was NOT going there. Not when everything about Thanos and dying and five years passing by in the blink of an eye was still so raw and painful. It hadn't even been three months since Mr. Stark –
Peter let anger block his thoughts and channel his energy. He couldn't think about him right now. This wasn't a good time for him to acknowledge the gaping hole in his heart or any of other fifty million feelings he had about that.
He lifted his hand, shot out a web, and then the fight was truly on.
They battled it out.
Webs were shot, fire balls were thrown, display cases were crashed into, punches tossed and even once, a magic lasso was used.
The fight cut a swath of destruction through the sanctum and Peter took almost as many hits as he gave. After what felt like an eternity of trading blows, Peter began to tire, but he wasn't about to give up. He pushed on, getting up every time he was knocked down.
Eventually, Peter brought them to the roof sort of as planned. If you call getting thrown through a window and barely saving his ass by shooting a web to the roof as ‘planned', then yeah, he totally did that.
Peter didn't need to look behind him to know that the wizard was following him. He could feel him.
This was where the plan Strange had put together was supposed to come to fruition. It unfortunately, was also where it crumbled into pieces.
Strange was indeed waiting on the roof and ready with his magic grenade, but just as Peter landed, expecting Xanny to be delivering his next blow, nothing happened.
The sorcerer was gone.
Peter stood there for a second and looked at Doctor Strange, who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow that seemed to accuse him of messing with the plan. Okay, so maybe this part hadn't gone as well as expected, but that wasn't his fault.
Peter ran to the edge of the roof and looked down. There was no one there.
“But I … I swear he was right –” Peter sputtered, but was cut off suddenly by a sense of danger zinging up his spine. Before he could even turn to warn the doctor, there was a bright flash of light in his face and his vision went white.
The searing pain of the intense light was so powerful that it felt as though it drilled directly through his eyes and out the back of his skull. Peter fell to his knees, his hands reflexively mashing into the lenses of his mask though they could do nothing to abate the pain. He could hear the sounds of fighting between the two sorcerers, but he was effectively blind and useless for several critical moments.
By the time the pain and spots in his vision had cleared enough for Peter to make anything out again, he could see that Xandy had somehow gotten the upper hand over Dr. Strange and had trapped him in a kind of glowing energy net. Arms and hands bound to his side, Strange lost his hold on the magical grenade.
It clinked onto the roof. All three of them watched as it rolled around for a second or two like a top losing its energy until it slowly came to a stop at the edge of Dr. Strange's shoe.
For a beat, nobody moved.
Then they all snapped out of it and several things happened all at once. Peter shot a web for the grenade almost in the exact same moment that Xanal used his magic to try and lasso it. Strange used his feet to try to kick the thing in Peter's direction, but this only caused the web to shoot over its intended target and wrap itself around the doctor's ankles instead, throwing off his balance and sending him ass first onto the roof.
While Dr. Strange fell, the magic lasso hit its mark and the magic grenade went flying to the hand of the other wizard in the next second.
Peter tried to shoot another web at the grenade, but the wizard waved his hands and an orange glow enveloped him. Like a force field from Star Trek, the web just bounced off of him and landed limp on the roof.
In the next breath that Peter took, the Wizard pushed a button on the grenade and it shot out a laser-like beam of energy at Dr. Strange who was still struggling against his bonds. It hit square in the chest and arcs of energy raced through his body like lightning. The doctor cried out. His back arched and he writhed in pain until suddenly the beam cut off and his body dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.
Dr. Strange lay there panting through the aftermath, still in pain and barely conscious. But the fact that he was still breathing sent a wave of relief through Peter. Though the doctor wasn't exactly what he would call a friend in the sense where they would hang out on a Friday night telling each other their secrets and watching movies, he was deeply bonded to him in a different, weird sort of way. He had literally been pulled into space with him, fought with him, died with him, been brought back to life with him and then fought with him again. Those sorts of things stuck a person and certainly didn't want to see him hurt or worse.
And Peter didn't think he could stand to see anyone die again.
Jumping to his feet, Peter raised his right hand to shoot out another web and incapacitate the wizard, but before he could touch his shooter, Xachoo held out a hand to halt him and shouted angrily, “You move another muscle and he dies!”
Peter immediately stopped, seeing that Xansa had the grenade aimed at Strange.
“One more hit with the Sphere of Doom and Strange will lose more that just his magic.”
“Sphere of Doom?” Peter blurted without thinking, “Really? Who the hell names these things?”
Xanadu stared at Peter for a beat with manic eyes, “You’ll understand why it is called that if you force me to use it on Strange again and every molecule in his body loses their atomic bonds and he vaporizes into nothing. Try and stop me and you’ll get a front row demonstration.”
Peter gulped and raised his hands, placating the wizard, “Okay, okay, man! Just don’t hurt him, alright?”
Seeing that Peter wasn’t going to make a move against him so long as he was threatening the doctor, Xandy darted his eyes between Peter and Strange as he reached under the front flap of his jacket and pulled out the magic wand Peter was supposed to have kept from the evil wizard.
“How did you –?” Peter couldn’t even finish, feeling his stomach drop to the floor and the blood drain from his face. He suddenly realized just how enormously he had failed. Through all of their fighting, and crashing into stuff in the sanctum, Peter’s attention must have slipped and the wizard had somehow gotten hold of the thing and he hadn’t realized it. God, he felt so stupid.
“I may be a sorcerer,” Xanzabar sneered, “but I also know a little sleight of hand. Neat trick, no?”
Peter could only watch as Xammu lifted the wand and started chanting some kind of mystical language. Dr. Strange moaned and Peter hoped he would wake, but he couldn’t count on the sorcerer being able to help stop the evil wizard. Peter was on his own and he needed to do something to fix the mistake he had made.
The wand in Xamwow’s hand began to glow and he pointed it skyward. A bright, focused beam of light suddenly shot forth from the from the demon-like horns on the brass head at the top of the wand. Peter had to avert his eyes when the light became so bright it was like looking into the sun.
When the light finally faded, a swirling vortex of clouds floated above them like an inverted tornado. Peter figured it was some kind of portal, but unlike the usual kind that Strange made (God, how weird was Peter’s life that portals through time and space didn’t see all that strange anymore?) This one was dark and ominous. He had no idea where it would lead.
He had to admit to himself that it scared him.
The wind began to whip around them and the noise of it drowned out the sound of the wizard shouting the final words of whatever incantation he was reciting. Thunder boomed and Xanax raised both of his arms toward the portal and his body began to be sucked up into the vortex.
Peter gave very little thought to his next actions, but in the following few days he would curse himself for being so impulsive. But he was a seventeen year old superhero who had just made a huge mistake and he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he had had the benefit of hindsight.
The wizard’s feet lifted from the roof and Peter shot out a web that stuck to the other man’s back. And in the next moment, he had a grave sense of déjà vu as he was sucked upward into the sky and carried away from his world.
Presently
"Karen?" Peter croaked, rolling up into a seated position. He wasn't quite ready to stand yet, but maybe his AI could at least give him some idea of where he was and what just happened.
"Karen, you there?"
Silence was the only response.
"Crap." He muttered. The journey through the portal must have shorted her out. He sat for a few minutes with his head in his hands feeling very much like a lost little boy.
His headache hadn't quite abated and he was weirdly achy all over, but after a few minutes, he felt steady enough to get to his feet. On coltish legs, Peter walked about in a circle to take in his surroundings.
Apparently his journey hadn't taken him too far. He was on the exact same roof that he had been on before being sucked up in the portal which meant he was still at Dr. Strange's place.
The only course of action Peter could see was to go back inside the Sanctum and find Dr. Strange. He knew a heck of a lot more about magic and he could figure out what happened to him in that portal.
Peter felt hopeful, but also thought it unnerving how the doctor had disappeared from the roof. The last time he saw him, he was semi-conscious and not in any shape to move. And even if he had been there while Peter was out of it, he wouldn't have just let Peter lay there on the roof, concussed. The man was a little impersonal at times, but he wasn't that much of an asshole.
Deciding to abandon the roof, he headed for the door and took the stairs down. It was dark in the staircase, but when Peter tried to light switch by the door, nothing happened. Huh, looked like Dr. Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, didn't know how to change a light bulb. Even as that thought made Peter chuckle a little, on the perifery of his senses he could feel the stirrings of anxiety.
Peter used the wall as a guide to lead him down the dark steps. At the bottom was a door which opened up into an unlit hallway. Again, Peter tried the nearest light switch and nothing happened. Maybe Dr. Strange just forgot to pay his electric bill.
All was quiet as Peter walked down the hall, but that only served to heighten the sense of forboding he could feel creeping up his neck. Something wasn't right, but he wasn't sure what until he realized that the silence around him was more than a little unusual. Dr. Strange had a fascination with time and there were clocks everywhere in the sanctum. They were always ticking and chiming or ringing and coo-cooing. To a kid with enhanced hearing they were pretty noticible, if not down right annoying. But now there was nothing and that was starting to freak him out a little.
"Hello?" Peter called out, "Dr. Strange?"
He was met with more silence. He rounded a corner and found another set of stairs which lead down to an open landing that looked over the expansive gallery portion of the sanctum. When he reached the railing and looked out over it, he drew in a tight gasp.
There was nothing there.
The sanctum had been cleared out. Save for a broken chair or over-turned table here and there, all of the artifacts, relics, weapons, and magical doo-dad's that had been there only earlier that day were gone. There was no way someone could have emptied the place that quickly, even with magic. Peter lifted a hand and noticed that under his gloves the railing was covered in a thick layer of dust and that the place reked of musty abandonment.
No one had been in this building for a very long time.
This was not the same sanctum he knew.
He had no idea where he was.
But he knew this was not home.
And he was all alone.