Chapter Text
Peter was out as Spider-Man when it happened, checking on what was most likely a prank by Flash. He’d come into school that day rambling about the “zombies” that were wandering into some abandoned building in Queens, probably just trying to impress the class with his spooky story.
Still, Peter liked to be thorough, so after Flash finished derailing what was supposed to be a decathlon meeting with his seventh, and most dramatic, iteration of the original story, Peter slipped away to check it out.
He’d approached the building, growing more and more uneasy until there was a bright flash of light and-
Peter was walking home from school when it happened.
Wait, when what happened? That wasn’t right.
Peter was walking home from school. He traipsed up the apartment building stairs, some strange energy buzzing in his limbs that he needed to get out.
By the time he’d made it up the six flights, the feeling was gone, and he had to pause before he opened the door to the hall, wheezing for air, which didn’t make sense, because he- did it make sense?
He thought about it for a second, leaning against the wall for support. He never was very athletic. What was he thinking about again?
Peter shook his head to clear it, making his way back to his apartment door. He swung it open, carelessly plopping down his school bag like he always did and turning to rifle through the fridge for a snack, only to find himself face to face with-
“Uncle Ben!” Peter threw his arms around his uncle, who ruffled his hair in return, chuckling fondly.
“Missed you too, Pete. I’m just grateful that they let me off my work trip early.”
Uncle Ben’s voice sounded exactly like Peter remembered, and he felt a sharp pang of grief echo in his chest.
Wait, remembered? And Ben was right in front of him, why would he be mourning-
The back of his neck pricked painfully and he stumbled backward, his mind screaming at him to run. It was a familiar sensation, and for a split second his mind supplied him with the word Spidey-senses, but that was complete gibberish. He shook his head again, everything was getting so muddled.
“Peter?”
Blood was coating Peter’s hands as he sobbed, desperately trying to save him, begging him not to go.
“Peter? Hey, buddy, look at me, Peter.” Ben grabbed Peter’s shoulder, steadying him. Peter blinked, taking in his uncle’s face, solid and real. He frowned, glancing around the kitchen. It didn’t look any different, but something still felt off.
“You back with me, Pete?”
Peter nodded dazedly. His head was starting to hurt, a strange migraine-like pain that radiated dully from the base of his neck.
Ben smiled patiently, maneuvering Peter over to a kitchen chair. He sat down beside Peter, keeping his hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“Do you think you need to go back and talk to Dr. Cho again, bud?”
Peter’s frown deepened. He recognized the name, but something about it sounded off in a way he couldn’t place. He stared down at his hands, half expecting to find them covered in blood.
“It’s okay if you don’t, but you need to fight this, kid.”
Peter snapped his head up, ignoring the pain that was trickling further down his spine. He gaped as he struggled to reconcile what he was seeing that voice at the end of the sentence. It was definitely not Ben’s, but it was so familiar.
“What did you say?”
Concern settled further into Ben’s expression. He leaned forward, resting the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead. “Are you, feeling okay, Peter? I said-“
“We’re losing him-“ bright light pierced through Peter’s eyes, burning into his skull.
“Goddamnit, Peter, you have to fight it. You’re strong, kid, you can beat this.”
Peter woke up in his bed.
“Well, there’s the sleeping beauty.” Despite the jokey tone, Ben’s voice still sounded concerned. “Are you feeling any better?”
Peter shook his head, the throbbing pain was only getting worse. “No-”
His uncle’s shirt soaked in blood.
The police station. Aunt May sobbing. The funeral.
Spider-Man.
“No.” Peter scrubbed at his eyes, trying to get rid of the burning pain that was spreading through his entire body. “This isn’t right. Ben isn’t- you’re dead.”
His uncle smiled at him, malice gleaming in his eyes as his face morphed, stretching unnaturally.
“No, Peter Parker, Ben is dead. And so, it seems, are you.”