Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miguel’s talons tapped against the keyboard in an aggressive staccato as he blinked, trying to stave off his exhaustion. The reports had doubled in size in the past month, anomalies popping up every other day. It had driven him to work through the night, pulling all-nighters more often than not.
The sharp beeping of his watch pulled him back to reality. Reading the request for backup with a scowl, he stood, joints cracking. He sighed one last time, a hand massaging his temples, before a portal opened before him.
Eerily bright lights blinded him as he stepped through. Squinting, he could make out the forms of younger Spiders swinging past a too-large Green Goblin, his shrieks and cackles almost deafening.

As he came closer, he could hear Hobie’s voice taunting him, meshing with the sounds of the other teenagers.

He sighed.

Of course it had to be those four.

Crouching, he launched himself at the villain, talons extending as he landed, embedded deep in the flesh. To his surprise, he could feel the wounds already stitching together beneath him.

“Yo old man! Did it have to be you?” Hobie shouted, distaste evident in his eyes.

“Don’t be picky Brown,” he snapped back, “cuál es el problema?”

“He won’t stay injured,” Miles chimed in, grunting as he evaded a slash to the arm.

Miguel growled in frustration as the goblin ripped free of his webs, turning to lash out.

“Stay here,” he ordered, lunging forward, fangs glinting in the light.

“Like hell we will,” Hobie snorted, swinging beside him.

The others appeared soon after, loudly voicing their agreement, Gwen rolling her eyes at Miguel’s visible anger.

His outrage only lasted for a second as he watched the Green Goblin take out a Ghost Bomb, its altered strength visible in its sheer size. Chest constricting with a feeling he refused to think about, he launched himself at the children only for his body to be slammed into a crumbling wall by the violent blast. Ears ringing, he lifted his head, ignoring the aching, mind racing as he desperately looked for the others.

“Mierda,” he snarled under his breath as he followed the sounds of rabbit-quick heartbeats. His thoughts melted away as he tore through the rubble, focused only on the children, his children, trapped beneath the debris. With one final heave, accompanied by a frantic snarl, he was greeted by four bloodied faces.

“Hey,” Hobie greeted him, leg twisted at an unnatural angle.

Miguel couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed by the smirk still on his face, instead choosing to survey the others, taking in Gwen’s bruised and bloodied hands, the gash across Miles’ back, and the prone form of Pavitr, yet to awaken.

They stared up at him, eyes wide and uncertain, clouded with pain. In that moment they no longer looked like heroes, but rather like the teenagers Miguel knew, deep inside, that they were.

Then Pavitr glitched.

His form doubled over as he was jerked awake, the technicolor ripping through his body. Whining, he stared up at Miguel, hair matted with sweat and blood. The cracked interface of the watch stared back at him like a cruel joke, taunting him.

With a sigh, he undid his own, wrapping it around Pavitr’s wrist as gently as he could, twitching as his talons accidentally drew blood.

The instincts he tried so hard to battle scratched at his mind, telling him to protect - fight - keep safe. Just this once, he could agree as he stared at their expressions.

With one final “Mierda” he turned back to the fight, throwing a snarled “stay here” at the gaggle of children.

He could feel his talons extending further than they ever had, fangs dripping with venom. Leaping onto the monster in front of him, for only a monster could consider harming his children, he dug in deep, not giving it a chance to retaliate. Rage washed over him, drowning out the last scraps of his tattered humanity, the outside world fading away as he tore into the goblin’s neck with a growl. Crimson ran down his chin, though he didn’t stop, instead making quick work of the arm swinging at him. With a wet pop it wrenched free from its socket, hanging limply at its side as it howled in pain, clashing with Miguel’s own pained grunt as a glitch tore through him, dislodging his talons. Digging in deep, he tore ribbons into its skin as he found his grip, launching himself to a new vantage point while the goblin clawed at its arm.

He grinned, a sick sort of satisfaction coursing through him as he saw his handiwork.

“ ¡Hijo de puta, lastimaste a mis hijos!” he roared, relishing the way its flesh twitched beneath him as his grip tightened, mind screaming at him to bite - maim - kill.

Anything to protect those kids.

The rest of the fight was a blur as the goblin’s movements became sluggish, bleeding out steadily as Miguel forced its wounds to stay open, figure slick with blood. Distantly he could feel the dull ache in his body spreading into a wildfire, muscles threatening to go slack as the goblin finally fell amongst the debris, glassy eyes staring at the sky its life drained away.

Miguel couldn’t get himself to care about the mess.

It felt like he was treading through honey, movements sluggish as he made his way back to where the children were cowering, Miles flinching as he loomed into view, droplets of blood landing on him. Gwen was aware enough to note the deepened crimson of his eyes and the way his head kept twitching minutely, as if keeping something at bay. His earlier exhaustion began to catch up, breath stuttering as he hoisted the group up, cradling Hobie in his arms, the other protesting weakly, though he pressed into his chest.

Ushering the others onto his back, he prayed they were lucid enough to stick. Pavitr curled around his shoulder, readjusting himself when he felt the man beneath him stiffen as he brushed against a gash in his rapidly flashing suit.

He glitched again, his grip tightening as he tried not to drop the bundle in his arms, and Hobie still wasn't moving.

He breathed in. Deeply.

Steeling himself as to not buckle under the weight, his knee sending pangs through his body, he growled at Lyla to open a portal, barely registering whatever snarky remark she made in return, staggering through into the shocked stares of Jessica and Peter.

Great.

He bared his fangs when he felt hands grab the children, body shuddering with effort though fury still burned brightly in his eyes.

“Easy, easy,” Peter muttered, cutting through Miguel’s mantra of keep safe – hurt – protect, “you’re okay big guy.”

The soft hand cupping his cheek chipped away the last of his fury, a growl and whine overlapping into a pitiful noise. Sinking onto Peter’s couch, he tried to gently lay his charges against the plush pillows only to be stopped by Peter’s hand and Jessica’s glare. When they were done enough time had passed for him to feel the weight of his eyelids and the sharp pains shooting through his body, mind still battling with the spider that wanted to rip out the throat of anyone daring enough to approach his kids.

He was so absorbed in his inner turmoil that he never registered the looks shared between the teens as Peter got to work on their wounds, studying his stiff form. When he got to Gwen he could feel his muscles starting to go slack, no amount of willpower able to keep his waning lucidity at bay.

The last thing he heard was her sharp gasp as Peter cleaned her mauled hand.

Mierda.

Chapter Text

Lights blurred Pavitr’s vision as he drummed his fingers against his thigh anxiously. Rain pattered against the window, the only sound audible in the silent room.
Miguel’s body lay sprawled across Peter’s bed, the man having heaved him onto it some time ago. He was dressed in sweats, bandages covering his chest. Hobie had quirked an eyebrow when Peter had silently gotten clothes in Miguel’s size, blessedly keeping quiet.

The teenagers watched as his chest rose and fell steadily, wheezes forcing their way out of his lungs on occasion. An hour had passed since he’d collapsed on the couch, body glitching furiously. They’d all lunged to catch him, slowed by their own injuries. Jessica had managed to slow his fall, using her own watch to stabilize him.

It had taken a while to get the suit off him, even longer to pry the children from his arms whenever they brushed against him. Hobie had joked they needed to get him a teddybear when he woke up.

No one mentioned how they didn’t know when that would be.

When Miles first saw the gashes hidden underneath he thought he was submerged in a nightmare, the steadily dripping red smearing onto his hand assuring him that this was very much real. His hands shook next to Gwen as he helped wrap the wounds Peter had managed to stitch.

He tried not to think of how far gone Miguel truly was if he didn’t even react to the needle piercing his skin.

“Done,” Peter muttered, securing the final stitch, ushering the group to sit down, “now all we can do is wait.”

“…how long?” Pavitr piped up, resting heavily on Hobie’s shoulder. It pained Miles to see their most carefree member sporting such deep weariness on his face, tear tracks still glistening on his cheeks.

He didn’t receive an answer.

Taking a shaking breath, Pavitr snuck a glance at Miguel’s slack talons, only the smallest tremor confirming the life still dormant inside him. Closing his eyes he remembered the sight of those same talons tearing through flesh like a hot knife through butter. He flinched, the sound still echoing through his head.

He never noticed how his spider-sense had never gone off during the rampage.

Opening his eyes, he ignored Gwen’s noise of concern, instead taking Miguel’s hand in his own, running a finger along the sharp ridges embedded in the man’s skin. They seemed smaller now that their wielder was laying prone in bed.

Somehow that just made him feel worse.

“He really is part vampire, huh?” Miles muttered, drawing a snort from the others.

“Spider, actually,” Peter corrected absentmindedly, cleaning away any leftover blood.

“No shit,” Hobie deadpanned, picking at his nails.

Peter stared at him.

“More than us, I mean.”

Gwen hummed thoughtfully, “so that's why he was all-“ she waved her hand around.

“Yup.” The lump on the bed growled softly.

“Speak of the devil,” Hobie snorted.

His wry smirk fell as the noise only grew in volume, Miguel starting to twitch, one eye opening to a crimson slit, pupil a tiny speck against his iris. Hoisting himself upright, they watched as he clawed at the sheets, frantically scanning the room.

Peter pulled them back to reality, darting forwards.

“Hey hey hey, back down you go fella. There you go.”

Whatever energy he’d used to jerk himself awake evaporated the moment Peter’s hand pushed him back down, the children watching as his eyebrows scrunched with confusion.

“Gabi…?” he muttered dazedly.

Peter’s expression fell, gaze softening.

“Oh Miggy…,” he sighed, “she isn’t here anymore.” Hobie watched with morbid fascination as momentary clarity flashed through Miguel’s eyes before being overtaken by fury, jaws snapping up at Peter as the other jumped away, reaching to grab something out of sight.

He could feel Pavitr trembling beside him as Miguel rocketed out of bed, barely flinching as the stitches popped. Gwen shot up, readying her webs as he turned his gaze upon the children, anything akin to the Miguel they knew lost in those animalistic eyes.

He only managed two steps before collapsing in a heap, something sticking out of his back.

They stared.

“Sooo…Tranq dart?”

“…Ketamine.”

“WHAT.”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he looked away.

“The other stuff doesn’t work on him.”

Miles giggled, steadily growing louder as the others joined in, the day’s events nearly throwing them into hysterics.

Pulling himself upright, Peter let out one last chuckle, patting Miles on the shoulder as he passed.

“I have to grab some more supplies. You kids stay out of the room until I’m back, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Yup.”

“Alright.”

“…”

“Hobie.”

“Maybe.”

Shaking his head, Peter left, stepping through the portal, leaving the group stranded in the living room. Miles yawned, feeling the adrenaline finally wearing off, sinking back into the couch. The others joined soon after, twitching limbs and worried minds slowly smoothing over as sleep crept up on them. They curled around one another, slipping into a sleep they could only pray would be devoid of dreams.

Deep down they knew it was a futile wish.

Chapter Text

Dark talons slashed through Gwen’s dreams, illuminated by glowing red eyes as she tossed in her sleep, arm landing on Hobie as he twitched awake. Blinking blearily, he stiffened, careful to not wake the others as he gently tapped her on the shoulder, mindful of her injuries. She jerked awake with a poorly concealed whimper, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“It’s just me, we’re safe,” Hobie whispered, bringing an arm up to rub her back in soothing circles.

Face hidden in her hands, Gwen groaned.

“I hate this. I thought I wasn’t scared of him anymore.”

Hobie shrugged.

“What he pulled back there was pretty freaky. That’d give anyone the creeps. He’s a freaky guy.”

“Mhm,” Miles hummed sleepily, fabric rustling as he leaned over, yawning.

“He’s- he’s not a bad guy. Just… freaky.”

Gwen snorted.

“Yeah.”

Pavitr’s content hum cut through the silence as he snuggled into Hobie’s side.

“What do we do now?”

Hobie eyed the lump still curled around them.

“We wake Pav.”

“Mm?”

His voice, still slurred with sleep, piped up, eyes cracking open into slits. With an elegant stretch, he sat up, gaze darting to the closed door.

“…You think he’s okay?”

Sighing, Miles shook his head.

“I really don’t think he is.”

“You know, we could just see for ourselves.”

They stared at Hobie, expression all varying degrees of incredulousness.

“What? I think we have the right to see what’s going on in…there.”

He gestured vaguely at the muffled growls escaping the room. They could hear the occasional clicking of talons as Miguel paced the parameter.

Listening intently, they exchanged looks, steadily creeping forwards until they were pressed flush against the door.

The growling stopped.

Seconds later, the door shook, talons flashing through the lower crack. Jumping back, the group held their breath, waiting until they heard him shuffle back to whisper amongst themselves.

“We’re really gonna do this?”

Inhaling sharply, Gwen reached for the handle.

“I guess that’s a yes.”

With one last wince, the door creaked open, giving way to the cowering figure hunched in the corner softly snarling as they approached.

Miles tried to suppress a shudder as he looked into those glowing eyes, pupils retracted to mere specks against the backdrop. Stepping closer, he thought he could see a flash of recognition before it was buried beneath animalistic rage.

Looking at the deep gashes littered across the walls, he was grateful Peter seemed familiar with whatever was going on.

“Well shit,” Hobie muttered, “this is what he’s been hiding? No wonder the guy’s got anger issues.”

“…Somehow I’m not surprised,” Gwen snorted, glancing at Miles, ”you okay?”

Nodding stiffly, he stepped closer, mindful of the eyes tracking every movement.

“You know… it does look kinda cool,” Pavitr added, much to the chagrin of the others.

“Really?”

He shrugged.

“It fits his whole look anyways. Aside from the weird murder eyes. Not a big fan of those.”

Sometime during the conversation Miguel’s attention had shifted to him, body beginning to uncurl as he shifted upright, form still hunched.

“…Guys?”

Only once they heard the tiny giggle behind them did they manage to grasp the situation, watching with horror as Mayday crawled in, hands stretched out towards Miguel.

He sniffed, soft clicks escaping him, before he lunged forward, barreling towards her.

Reacting on pure instinct the teenagers moved to block him, webslingers ready to stop his charge…

…only for him to leap over, completely ignoring their makeshift wall.

He landed, bundling Mayday in his arm as he turned, shielding her with his body. Tremors wracked through him, breath coming in short pants.

The group stared.

“…What,” Miles uttered, mind racing as he tried to understand what had happened.

“You know what, that could’ve gone worse,” Hobie replied, bracing himself as he once again tried to approach the man.

Miles joined him with a nervous “heyy tío,” trying not to flinch whenever his eyes snapped to his body.

One- two - three steps in they began to relax, their hands almost close enough to touch his hair. His own hand was busy stroking Mayday’s hair as she waited patiently, glancing up at them with judgment in her eyes.

“Tío, hey, we’re not gonna hurt anyone, okay? Just wanna make sure you’re-“

The door slammed back open with a bang, everything becoming a blur as the man before him sprung into action, Miles feeling himself getting scooped up and pressed against what he could only assume to be Miguel, barely hearing Mayday’s carefree giggles over the din. Distantly he registered Hobie’s surprised shout and Pavitr’s vague acknowledgment.

When he opened his eyes, he was wedged between Pavitr and Gwen, back pressed firmly against the wall, Miguel’s bandaged back greeted him as he tried to get his bearings, peering past it to meet Peter’s utterly baffled eyes, his entire persona ruffled.

“Hey,” Hobie greeted, one eyebrow raised, ”you took your time.”

Whipping his head around, Miguel glared at him, grumbling.

“I think he wants you to be quiet,” Pavitr whispered.

“No shit.”

“What happened?” Peter cut in, hurriedly approaching the pile of children-

-only to stop as Miguel’s talons swung at his chest, threatening to tear him to ribbons.

He stared.

Miguel glared back.

“Miguel, buddy, it’s me, Peter,” he sighed,”come on, I got your shot.”

He waved a glowing green vial at him, snorting as
Miguel’s eyes followed it intently.

“Yes, very interesting I know, now come here and-“

With a growl, Miguel forced him back, lips peeling back to expose his fangs even further.

Miles gasped softly, dread shooting through his body.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“You gave him ketamine, right?”

“…Yeah,” he inhaled sharply,”…shit.”

Expression sobering, he breathed deeply.

“He had a nightmare. Probably about his daughter from the looks of it. He won’t let go of you until we get this-“ he tapped the vial”-in him.”

“It’s not so bad,” Pavitr murmured, petting Miguel’s calf, “he’s comfortable.”

Gwen nodded, moving to grab one of his hands, “It is pretty cool.”

She ran a finger along the talons, snorting as he huffed.
Hand running across his face, Peter sighed.

“Alright, then can you keep him busy while I try to give him this? It shouldn’t take long.”

He was meant with noises of agreement, each varying in enthusiasm.

Pavitr, already having moved to clutch Miguel, slithered onto his back, mindful of his still healing injuries. With a content sigh, nestled his chin in between his shoulder, eliciting a purr from Miguel.

“…He can do that?”

“…I’ve learned not to ask.”

Hobie and Miles were next, each commandeering a leg, readying themselves as Gwen inched closer to his second hand.

With a confused snort, Miguel looked back, and Miles thought that if he could speak he would chew them out for being so reckless in a dangerous situation. Of course, then he would’ve already realized that Peter B didn’t mean any harm, but the sheer exasperation in his eyes was astounding for someone currently posing as an overgrown spider.

“Now!”

With Peter’s shout, the group leapt into action, straining to bring down Miguel. A confused noise escaped him before morphing into a growl, pulling against his four human restraints as Peter moved to sink the syringe into his shoulder, barely evading the snapping jaws as a fang grazed his arm. One final push let the shot burst into his system, praying it would take hold.

Grunting, Miguel swayed, limbs stiffening as his mind began to catch up.

The last thing he saw before the burning in his veins took over were the concerned faces of the children - his children - his mind supplied, as the darkness took him for the second time that day.

Mierda, he thought to himself, the feeling awfully familiar.

Chapter Text

Muffled whispers surrounded him, drawing Miguel back to consciousness as his brows scrunched at the scratchy fabric of the medbay. Fire still roared through his body, attacking every inch of him, barely tempered by what he assumed to be painkillers being pumped through his system, only serving to strengthen the fog in his mind. Blearily opening an eye, he met the gaze of Peter B., following his eyes to where he could distantly register contact.

He was met with four sleeping bodies, all curled around and on top of him. Their chests rose and fell slowly, warmth creeping into his heart as he watched Pavitr wiggle further into his side.

“They worry about you.”

Peter’s voice snapped him back to reality, dutifully clamping down the faint whisper of ours creeping from the spider crooning inside of him.

“They should be worrying about themselves. There’s already enough going on.”

“Miguel,” Peter started, one hand moving to grasp his shoulder, “you can’t honestly expect them to not care after what you did – what they saw. It’s not that-“

“They saw me?” Miguel interrupted, “they know?”

Nodding, Peter looked down, “they got in before I could make it back.”

Miguel let his head fall back against the pillow, exhaling sharply. Dread coursed through him at the thought of what had happened – what could have happened – if things had gone differently. Curling his talons, he cursed himself not for the first time, crimson eyes looking upon his form with poorly disguised hatred. Maybe he could–

“Miguel?”

He glanced up.

“Miguel, buddy, you gotta calm down. You’re hurting yourself,” Peter murmured, uncurling his talons from where they had pierced his palm, “what’s wrong?”

He tilted his head away, fighting the guilt welling up inside of him.

“Oh buddy… they’re okay now. If they hated you they wouldn’t be, y’know-“ Peter gestured to the four children plastered to his side “- doing that.”

“…”

With a huff, Miguel moved to sit upright, stilling as Gwen grunted in her sleep, grip tightening.

“I have to file the report,” he said stiffly.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Hobie already did it. Can you believe it? Hobie, filing a report? Those kids must adore you.”

Miguel stared.

“What.”

“…Jess was right, you are dense,” Peter uttered, eyes widening.

“Next time I will let you get crushed to death.”

“No you won’t,” he countered smugly, “you like me too much.”

Not deigning to answer that, Miguel let his eyes close, finally letting the exhaustion take hold, faintly registering Peter’s quiet “sleep well” before he drifted away, lulled by the warmth of those beside him.

Being stuck in his office had some upsides, Miguel mused. Orange pixels flashed through the area as he swiped through the screens, face creased with thought.

“Lyla?”

“Ya?”

“Start a separate file on Morales, Brown, Pavitr, and Gwen.”

“Aww, boss, are ya getting attached?”

“¡Ahora!”

Rolling her eyes, Lyla disappeared in a splash of color, casually sliding open the door to reveal the aforementioned teenagers.

“Ay, tio, we brought empanadas!”

Swinging up to his platform, Miles offered him the container, the others following soon after. With a sigh, Miguel took it, one hand moving to steady his crutch. They ate in silence, broken occasionally by Pavitr’s constant shifting and Gwen’s hands drumming against the desk. He felt oddly content, problems retreating to the bad of his mind.

“…So, do you also drink blood?”

“MILES!

No one dared to mention how after that day the group would break into the office more often to hang out while Miguel worked, scattered Spanish homework becoming a common sight. And no one dared to even touch the newly framed photo propped on the desk, four smiling faces beaming next to a picture of a young girl with brown hair.