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[2 days later]
Wind blew constantly through the cemetery, bending thin branches and sending dry leaves flying between the aligned tombstones. The sky was becoming overcast with heavy gray clouds, promising a storm later.
Peter walked between the headstones with his hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. The black blazer swayed in the wind, just like his tousled hair. The knot of the tie around his neck was slightly crooked — he hadn't had the energy to fix it, not after leaving Norman Osborn's funeral.
Well, "funeral" was a generous word for what happened. There was no body to bury — the explosion of that water tank filled with bombs had been so violent that nothing remained of Norman, not a fragment of bone, not a piece of clothing, not even a shred of that demonic suit he used to wear. The coffin in the cemetery was empty, merely a formality to give the mourners somewhere to look.
Still, that did not change the central fact: Norman Osborn was dead. And it was Peter who had killed him.
The sentence had echoed in his mind since that night, repeating on a loop like a bad song that refuses to leave his head. I killed him. I killed him. I KILLED HIM.
It didn't matter how many times he told himself it had been an accident. That he couldn't have foreseen it. That the explosion had been the consequence of Norman's own choices, of his insane desire to destroy Spider-Man.
None of that could convince him otherwise in the end. Because deep down, far down where Peter kept all his most uncomfortable truths, he knew that in that final attack, when he stuck the pumpkin bomb to the glider's engine, he acted with only one intention.
To hurt.
Peter wanted to hurt Norman in that moment. To make him feel at least a fraction of the pain he had caused everyone, especially Harry. When Peter realized how his friend was being manipulated, used, even hurt by his own father, something inside him broke. And in that instant of blind fury, when the glider sped past him, he did not think about stopping Norman. He thought about destroying him.
And here was the result of that decision.
Peter Parker was now a killer, doing exactly what he had promised himself he would never do since that night when he almost killed Walter Hardy out of revenge (The man who killed Uncle Ben).
Peter had sworn he would use his powers to protect, to save, to make sure no one else would go through the pain he went through. And now… now he was the cause of that same pain in someone else.
Harry was devastated and traumatized. Peter saw it in his friend's eyes during the burial — that empty, lost expression of someone who had witnessed something no son should ever witness. And it was no surprise: Harry had seen his own father blown into a thousand pieces before his eyes.
It was also no surprise that he blamed Spider-Man for it.
And Gwen…
Peter had watched the girl he loved throughout the entire ceremony, holding Harry's hand, supporting him, being the shoulder he needed. She looked beautiful even in black, with her loose blonde hair falling over her shoulders and the contact lenses she wore now instead of glasses.
Gwen was perfect in this new look — in truth, she had always been perfect. Peter had simply been too blind and too insecure to see it, to accept his feelings for her. And now she was by someone else's side, and it didn't seem like she would be leaving anytime soon.
Gwen chose to stay with Harry — not out of love, but out of empathy. He needed support, especially from her, the person who had helped him stay away from his former addiction, the experimental OsCorp performance enhancing stimulant: Globulin Green.
In other words, Gwen maintained her relationship with Harry because she had a big heart and placed the well-being of others above her own needs. And that hurt Peter even more. Because indirectly, Gwen would stay with someone she did not love because of Spider-Man's actions. Because of HIS actions.
The wind blew stronger, making Peter shiver and pull the blazer tighter around his body. His injuries were far from fully healed — especially his ribs, which still ached when he breathed deeply or made sudden movements. But most of the cuts and bruises had already faded, thanks to his dear and beloved healing factor.
However, there was one thing not even his accelerated metabolism could heal. And that problem was beginning to show in the small dark circles forming beneath his eyes, purple shadows that contrasted with the color of his face. Since the night of the fight against the Goblin, when Peter practically passed out on top of his bed, he had been struggling greatly to sleep for long hours.
Because whenever he fell asleep, the Green Goblin was there, with glowing yellow eyes and a malicious smile behind the mask. In the nightmares, the Goblin always destroyed the city, or uncovered his identity and killed those he loved. And every time, Peter failed to stop him. Every time, he lost. He would wake up with his heart racing, sweat soaking the sheets, and the muffled scream of May or Gwen echoing in his ears.
It was simply… horrible. There was no better word.
"Haaa…" Letting out a long sigh that carried more weight than any words could express, Peter finally lifted his eyes and realized he had reached his destination without even noticing the path. His feet knew the way by heart, even when his mind was miles away, lost in dark thoughts.
"I'm sorry, it's been a while since I came here…" he murmured, his voice so low it was almost carried away by the wind, as he stopped in front of a familiar headstone.
BEN PARKER
Beloved Husband and Uncle
1943–2008
Peter swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in his throat. There he was, once again, standing before the grave of the man who raised him, who taught him almost everything he knew about being a decent person. And once again, he came carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Hi, Uncle Ben…"
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Disclaimer: This story and its characters belong to Sony Pictures and Marvel Comics (Disney). This is merely a fanfiction written by a fan, with no intention of infringement.