A/N Requested by GreenFlame1

Finally, Peter thought, as he swung through the towers of New York. He was on his way back to Queens to do some patrol in the area, for the Avengers has finally let him go on patrol by himself again, something that hadn't happened for quite some time after they watched Infinity War. 

The wind was cool against his suit and a smile had made its way onto his face, the feeling of freedom running through his veins. 

He perched on the top of a building, eyes scanning the busy streets below, watching as a little girl handed a penny to a homeless man, listening as tires screeched and horns blared, the tweeting of a couple of birds flying nearby in the background. He could smell greasy street food and the soapy smell of a car wash, and the faint smell of dust as an old woman shook out a rug on her balcony. The concrete was hard and cracking ever so slightly, the metal pole near his feet rusted from years of weather. 

But he knew this wouldn't last forever, he knew he wouldn't smell the smog and the grease and the hundred other smells he could smell. He knew he wouldn't hear the honking of horns or the tires against gravelly roads, or perhaps the tinkling of bells as the door of a shop was opened. He knew he wouldn't see a child being swung by her arms by two loving parents, or three teens as they laughed and played with the wigs in a dusty shop window. He wouldn't see a man smile crookedly when a child handed him a penny, shining against a calloused, wrinkled hand, or a dark, closed off teen pick an injured pigeon off the road. He wouldn't forever feel the wind against his suit or the hard, cracked concrete beneath his feet, or the coldness of a metal pole resting against his foot as he shifted. 

He wouldn't, not forever, because breaking through the good he could see in the people of this world, was a loud, piercing scream. 

It rung through the air and was caught by his ears, his head snapping up in response. 

It was close. 

Using his senses to his advantage, Peter swung to where the noise was coming from, his heart beating fast as adrenaline raged through him. 

There, in a dark, cold, foreboding alleyway, was a woman, hands up as she shook in fear, a group of men trapping her against a graffitied brick wall. They all wore black, leather jackets, grey masks and held big, unrecognisable guns that were all too similar to those the Vulture and his cronies had once held. 

"Wassup guys? This party doesn't look very fun." Peter quipped, using humour to hide the fear that almost made him shake. 

They all looked up and instantly raised their guns to shoot him, but Peter's spidey senses warned him every time and he managed to dodge them all, webbing most of the men up until most of them couldn't move, turning around to deal with the last one when-

"Don't move or I'll shoot her." The man said, pointing is large gun at the shaking, sobbing woman held in headlock in his other arm. 

"Whoa whoa whoa, hey buddy, how about we talk about this, hm?" Peter said, accidentally taking a step forward as he attempted to persuade the man to take it down a notch. 

The bang echoed through his ears, his heart stopping as he watched the terrified look on the woman's face grow, mixed with one of pain as her body disintegrated into a pile of ashy dust. 

Anger flared through Peter's body, and next thing he knew, he stood over the mans unconscious body, bruises all over him and several of his teeth knocked out. He was covered in blood, his mask pulled off and thrown somewhere else long ago. 

Did I do that? Peter thought. 

"K-Karen, scan for life." 

"Dead Peter." Karen told him, voice sympathetic. Peter choked on a breath and took a step back. No. He'd killed someone. He was a murderer. He killed someone. 

"No." Peter said aloud, his voice loud and echoey in the silent alleyway, with the acception of the heavy breathing of those he'd webbed up. 

His spidey senses suddenly flared, but since he was so upset, his mind repeating the fact over and over- I killed someone - he didn't move, and felt pain blossom from where he was hit on the back of the calf. 

He stumbled to the ground, panting and yelping in pain, looking down at the spot. 

Just like in the movie, just like in Infinity war, just like the woman who died because of him, he was turning to dust. It was much slower though, much more painful- every cell in his body splitting apart, beginning at the large, grey, ashy chunk missing in his leg. 

Peter leant against one of the stained, graffitied brick walls. "Karen, call dad." He whispered. 

Karen immediately dialed Tony, who was quick to pick up. 

"Peter? What's going on? I'm in a meeting." He said, though he didn't sound annoyed. 

"Dad I- I don't feel so good." Peter told him. 

He could almost see him roll his eyes. "Peter I don't have time for your jokes, your 'I don't feel so good' jokes don't work on me anymore, okay?" He was about to hang up, Peter could tell, so he intervened quickly. 

"Dad please! They-they hit me with this th-thing and I'm turning to dust and- and- I don't wanna go, please, I don't wanna go!" His voice was thick with tears and he shook with sobs, throat sore. By now, his leg was more than halfway gone. Though the process was slow, Peter knew, deep down, that they couldn't get to him in time. 

The line was silent for a couple of seconds. "Peter. Please tell me this is a joke. Please tell me you're okay, for the love of god please." His voice sounded so broken, so sad, cracking ever so slightly. He couldn't lose his Peter, not again. 

"It's not a joke. Please help." Peter made a loud sobbing noise which he tried to muffle with his gloved hand. 

"Okay, we're on our way Peter, we're on our way, just hold on alright?" 

Peter made an 'mhmm' noise, listening to Tony's heavy breathing as he raced to get to Peter on time. 

"D-dad?" Peter asked, watching one of his hands slowly disappear. 

"Yes Peter?"

"I love you. And- and, it's not your fault okay? It's not your fault." 

"Peter no. You're not dying, you're gonna be okay, you hear me? You're gonna be okay." 

Peter cryed and nodded, forgetting that Tony couldn't see him. 

He heard a couple of footsteps, and he looked up, expecting to see his dad in his Ironman suit, but instead there stood the wizard man from Infinity war- Dr Strange, his name was. 

He knelt beside Peter, face swimming side to side in Peter's last few minutes of life. 

Peter's eyes squinted at the bright green light that began to flash, a light on the necklace that Dr Strange held, with big, round circles that were blurry to Peter's eyes. 

Peter blacked out. 

When he awoke, he was laying in a bed in a dark place, with whispered voices nearby. 

It took him a second before he remembered what had happened, sitting up in the unfamiliar room, his brown hair tousled and face pale and groggy. The blankets were twisted around the end, spread out around where he must've been sleeping. 

His eyebrows scrunched as he glanced around, trying not to jump when the door opened. 

It was his dad, looking ever so relieved to see that Peter was okay. 

Peter tried to get out of the bed but Tony got their first, pulling him into a tight hug, Peter's chin resting on his shoulder. 

"I was so worried. I thought you were going to die. Don't do that to me Peter. Don't do that to me ever again." 

Peter nodded into his shoulder, sniffling with more tears. "W-where am I?" Peter asked as they pulled out of the hug. 

"Strange's place, you know, the wizard from that movie, the one Thor really likes." 

Peter nodded. "Dr Strange?" He asked.

"Yep, that one. Anyway, do you want to go home?" 

Peter nodded, scrambling out of bed. "What happened? Did he save me? How'd he do it?" 

Tony chuckled; Peter was back to his usual, hyper, quirky self. 

"Relax kid, he's downstairs talking to the others, you can ask him yourself." 

"Okay!" Tony led the way down the round, elegant staircase, Peter not far behind, staring around the room, examining each and every feature with an awed expression. 

There, by the doorway, stood Dr Strange, his red cloak billowing behind him. The Avengers were talking to him quietly, which must have been the hushed voices Peter had heard earlier. 

Peter ran down and wrapped his arms around Dr Strange, catching him off guard. To everyone's surprise, Dr Strange slowly wrapped his arms around Peter and hugged him back. 

"Thank you for saving me Mister Dr Strange Sir." Peter told him once they had pulled away. 

"It was no problem. Banner called me, I was nearby and I wasn't going to just let you die." 

"Did you manage to uh, save the woman the bad guy killed, and uh, the bad guy?" 

Dr Strange hesitated slightly. "I can't revive the dead, I'm sorry Peter." 

"Oh," Peter's heart sunk. He had assumed that Dr Strange had saved them both as well, but to find out he hadn't, he couldn't help the guilt that flooded through him. 

"Don't worry Peter, everyone makes mistakes." Steve told him, squeezing his shoulder. "We're just glad that you're okay." 

Peter nodded, blinking back tears, accepting the hug that Natasha offered him. 

"How about we go home?" Tony said, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulder. 

Peter nodded, sniffling. 

***

A/N Ok so I sorta got writers block at this point and hadno idea what to write, so this is where it ends. Sorry it's sad, I got watery eyes while writing it at some point so... yeah I made a happy ending except for his guilt n stuff. Thanks for reading, have a nice day :)