Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man, Marvel does. Inspiration for this story should be credited to Ed Brubaker's 'What If' one shot focusing on the idea of May dying instead of Ben.

Spider-Man

We all know how it played out. Teenage Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider at a science exhibit, developed spider-like abilities and then entered a wrestling contest after designing a costume. From there, of course, he gets into a money arguement with the booker and out of spite lets a robber get away scott-free. But every action has a reaction. We all remember what happens when Peter returns home, right? He walks up to the house to find police cars and an ambulance. Tragedy has struck. Ben Parker, Peter's uncle, has been shot and murdered. But now... let's rewind...

Peter Parker, after a hard night's work, was on his way home. Uncle Ben and Aunt May would most likely be slightly ticked at his lateness. But it wasn't his fault. Some idiot hassled Peter about a check he was rightfully do. After all, Spider-Man doesn't work for coins, he works for paper. But karma showed up and paid the man back in full. A crook had robbed the guy right there on the spot and Peter did nothing but watch it go down with a sly smirk on his face.

His disgruntled feelings aside, Peter just wanted to be home and in his bed. Dreading the interrogation he'd get from his aunt and uncle, he rounded the corner. That new buzzing in his head, the thing he labeled as a spider-sense, kicked in. In amazement, Peter found two police cars and an ambulance in front of his house. He sprinted towards, his heart racing and pulse quickening by the step.

"Aunt May! Uncle Ben!" he exclaimed, swerving past policemen and emt's to get to the front door. Upon going in, he collapsed to his knees. Blood stained the carpet, and two dead bodies layed lifeless under white sheets.

A cop, Captain George Stacy, came up behind the boy, "Peter Parker?"

Not looking away from the figures under the white sheets, Peter simply nodded.

George Stacy continued, "I regret to inform you that your aunt and uncle have been murdered."

Tears started down Peter's face and it felt like somebody was squeezing his heart. God, it hurt so bad. Aunt May and Uncle Ben... gone. He felt faint... like he could pass out at any second. Emptiness took over his soul... his very being. But as this all really started to sink in, anger and rage filled the emptiness within. Parker rose up to his feet and boldly turned to Captain Stacy, "Who did this?"

Captain Stacy shook his head, "Now, son, I can't..."

"I'm not your son!" Peter barked, "Don't call me that. Listen, I can take care of this... by myself. Trust me!"

Stacy sighed, "Peter... I really wish you would just let us handle it."

Parker stepped aside as the paramedics wheeled his dead aunt and uncle by him. With a grim expression creeping across his face, Peter pushed past George Stacy and walked alongside the corpses as they were wheeled to the emergency vehicle, "Don't worry, i'm gonna find who did this."

"Peter!" Stacy exclaimed, grabbing the boy's arm, "You're angry... I understand. But, this is no way to deal with your grief. Besides, we need you to..."

His spider-sense started ringing, Peter's head cocked to the side. The police radio in George's car went off, giving the presumed location of the murderer. "Let go!" Parker growled.

In a last ditch effort, Stacy grabbed ahold of Parker's backpack but he simply wormed out of it and ran away in a rage. Stacy sighed, then ordered his men, "Head to the warehouse, now! Get there before that kid gets himself killed!" . He tossed Peter's backpack on the front porch. Unbeknownst to everyone, as it went unseen in the heat of the moment, Peter's Spider-Man costume hung out the side of the pack.

Warehouse...

Peter briefly stared at the heavy front doors of this building. An empty warehouse. Empty for so many years, a perfect hiding spot for a murderer if he had not been located. Peter angrily kicked the doors down. They were like paper with his strength and rage. Spider-sense tingling, 2nd floor! Parker leaped onto the wall, climbed up to the ceiling and crawled through a hole. No sign on the 2nd floor... must of been the 3rd. Parker climbed higher until he spotted a masked man's silhoutte in front of a moonlit window. Listening to his spider-sense, Parker flipped into the air, dodging a bullet. Lost to the shadows, he got the jump on this murderer. After landing on him and laying in a few punches, Peter picked him up by the collar of his brown coat and pushed him back into the window.

"YOU KILLED THEM!" Peter roared, completely lost to his rage.

The man could do nothing but mumble and whine in pain. His nose was broke, bleeding under his green ski mask, as was his lip busted.

Wasting nomore time, Peter ripped the mask off, "No!" Parker exclaimed, shocked. With wide eyes and quivering lips, he dropped the killer and took a few steps back. No... no it just couldn't be! This wasn't real, it was some kind of dream. Staring him right in his eyes was not only the killer... but the petty crook that Parker had let slip by earlier in the night. In disbelief, his rage turned to overwhelming sorrow and sadness. He went down to a knee, his head dropping forward. "I'm sorry... i'm so sorry." he apologized to his family.

"Jeezus, kid!" the crook mumbled, "You a freakin' loon or what?"

Peter's whole body was trembling with adrenaline. The adrenaline was so thick that there was no way Peter could deny it any longer. He craved revenge... this 16 year old boy thirsted for blood! Parker lifted himself up and charged the man, "MURDERER!"

Outside, George Stacy and his squad arrived just in time to see a human body being launched out of a third story window, down onto a car, crushing the windshield. When Stacy looked up to the window, he saw Peter Parker looking out. Captain Stacy took a deep breath and then got out of his car as his men checked on the body. It was, in fact, the man they were looking for.

Amazingly, Parker leaped out of the window and down on the car where the killer was out flat. He squatted, unconsciously posing like a spider. With tear-filled eyes, he asked, "What now?"

Regrettably, the policeman took out his handcuffs, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say..."

Parker couldn't hear anymore words. Stacy's voice trailed off and all he could see was the faces of his aunt and uncle, like haunting visions before his eyes. And... and it was all his fault. He wasn't giving himself up because he took revenge. No, he was giving himself up because he believed it true that he was the cause of Uncle Ben and Aunt May's deaths.

Months later...

Carcer Juvenile Hall...

His eyes empty, his soul seemingly detached from his body, Peter Parker sat in handcuffs. His room cold and almost empty, he was put in special solitary confinement. But not for any reason ever used before. You see, the doctors had found a large trace of radioactivity in Peter's blood. Also, Peter could slowly heal himself from minor wounds. It was all very very interesting and quite the phenomenom. Though, it was kept under wraps for the safety of the public and for Peter himself.

The door opened, Parker didn't flinch. Walking through the door was a young man, mid 20's, with dirty blonde hair, crimson glasses, a suit and walking stick. He took a seat across from the small table Peter was seated at.

"Hello, Peter." the young man started, setting his briefcase flat on the table, "My name is Matthew Murdock and i've been appointed by the state to represent you in court." . He waited for a few moments but Peter didn't talk, not even acknowledge that someone was talking to him. Of course, the doctors had informed Murdock that the boy was suffering from severe depression. He had been put on medications, but for some reason none of them worked. That's where the interesting part came in. As unbelievable as it was, Matt had been told about Peter's special blood.

His voice distant, as his mind appeared to be, Parker spoke in a soft tone, "I murdered him. I beat him up and then I threw him out the window. Whatever punishment I get... I deserve."

Murdock nodded. He tried to choose his words wisely, "For all intents and purposes, you murdered a murderer and acted out of self-defense."

"I deserve my punishment."

"You're seventeen years old. Sixteen when the event took place."

"It doesn't matter, i'm still a killer."

Murdock took a breath and continued forward, "Peter, under the circumstances in which this happened, you don't deserve such a long sentence. If we don't act now, you'll be sent to a proper prison when you turn eighteen. And, trust me, they won't hesitate one second."

Parker stood up, his lip slightly curling, "Nothing matters. Don't you all get what i'm saying? I killed someone. I am responsible for the deaths of May and Ben Parker!"

Murdock's head went from side to side in disagreeance.

Tears started escaping Peter, "What are you, blind? I'm standing here and telling you... it's all my fault! I deserve the jail!"

"Actually," Matthew took his glasses off, revealing pale blue and blind eyes, "Yes, I am blind. But that doesn't mean I can't see what's in front of me. Peter, I agree that you did murder someone. But I heartily disagree that your responsible for your family's death. The report was read to me, as was your statement. And you cannot blame yourself for the actions of others regardless of circumstance."

"Circumstance?" Peter questioned, "Screw circumstance! Fine, you know what, get me out. Do whatever you can, 'cause i'll just kill myself once i'm free."

"You're distrought." Matthew stated.

"I'm guilty!"

"You're hurting, scared, angry, lost and self-loathing all at once. From what i've heard, this is the only bad thing you've ever done in your life. Peter, you're a good person."

Parker sat back down, taking a few breaths and sniffling, "Nothing you say will change the way I feel. I'll always have this guilt and i'll always believe myself. My aunt and uncle's deaths were because of my lack of responsibility." . Peter chuckled very briefly, "He... he always used to say. With great power, comes great responsibility."

"Peter, I can get you out of here. We have George Stacy, Anna Watson and the Detention Center all on our side. But, most of all, we are going to need your co-operation." . He paused, "And Peter, killing yourself will only add to the guilt and pain."

Peter took a deep breath, calming himself, "How can you get me out? Where will I end up if you do?"

"First of all, we claim self-defense. Second, you're a minor. Third, he was a wanted murderer. Now, those make up our foundation. As for where you would go? A rehabilitation process is in order. After that, i've been notified that you could stay with Anna Watson and her niece."

"Mary Jane..." Peter said softly.

A year later...

Freedom had come. After all the court dates, rehab periods and various tests, Peter Parker was now in a cab, on his way to the Watson home. Mary Jane, Peter hadn't seen her since a week before he was bitten by the spider. God, so much had changed. So much was so different now. Peter closed his eyes and rested his head back against the seat of the cab. Uncle Ben, Aunt May, he missed them so much that it was stinging inside his heart. Through it all, he still believed himself responsible for their deaths. Though, he could sleep easier at night and was trying to release some of the guilt with time.

"Don't let 'em get ya down, man."

Pete's eyes opened up, the cabbie was speaking to him, "Sorry?"

"Take for example, the man I used to work for. J. Jonah Jameson. Well, his son died in a space shuttle accident. The damn thing exploded just after take-off. Well, ol' Jameson lost it. Ya see, he loved the fact that his son, John, was an astronaut. Anyway, long story short, Jameson suffered after the accident. He even sold the Bugle to that Norman Osborn of Oscorp. Few months later, we all got canned and this Norman hired a whole new staff. Last time I talked to Jonah, he... well... let's just say I didn't."

The cab stopped in front of the Watson house. Parker cocked a brow, "I don't mean to sound rude, but what does this have to do with me?"

The cabbie, an african-american man with short black hair, looked into the rear-view as he spoke, "I know who you are. You're that Peter Parker. The story really has nothing to do with you, I suppose. But, well, you're about the same age as my son." . He turned around, "It's times like these that we can't let our grief and sadness get the best of us. Don't let what happened to Jameson happen to you, huh?"

Parker nodded, this man had a point, "So, what do I owe ya?"

The cabbie smiled and waved it off, "It's on me, my friend."

Parker was grateful as he stepped out of the cab and into the late afternoon sun, "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Hey," he stuck his head out the window, "You ever need a ride, Parker, just ask for Robbie. Alright?"

Parker put a hand up to wave as he started up the walk, "Will do, thanks again." . The cab drove off and Parker turned to face the house. It was definetly nice from the outside. Light siding, brown shutters, a front porch that stretched across the entire width of the house. Finally, a red front door with a novelty welcome sign hanging. He wanted to not be nervous and just waltz in. But, something was stopping him. The roller coaster that his life had become before this moment, it all ended with these next steps. Duffle bag in hand, Parker froze in place.

Forcing him to act, his Spider-Sense kicked in. His eyes drifted upward and there was a redheaded girl looking out a window. Mary Jane... had to be her. Not a couple moments later, the front door opened inward and that girl appeared right there, "Peter?" . Something broke inside him. A rush flowed outward... a release. Parker cried, the tears pouring down his face upon seeing Mary Jane. Quickly, she rushed over and gave him a warm hug, not even thinking about when she was going to let go. "You're safe here. Nomore worries... nomore troubles." she assured him kindly.

After he settled down and wiped his eyes, she led him inside, "I... i'm sorry, Mary Jane."

She shrugged, "Like I said, no worries. Think of this as a fresh start. Check this out, we got your room all set. Aunt Anna had to run a quick errand," MJ explained, going up the stairs, "She'll be back soon."

Nervously, Peter followed MJ up the stairs and into a room next to hers. It was sun-filled and pretty much empty except for a dresser, toy basketball hoop, and the bed. He walked around the room in wonder. He now had his own bedroom? He touched the plastic basketball hoop and then went over to the window. A tall tree was right there, a strong and sturdy branch mere feet away from the window.

"Whatcha think?"

He checked out the closet, waiting before answering MJ. He gasped at what was on the floor, nearly hidden away in the corner of the small space. He swallowed and knelt down, putting a hand on what was his old backpack. Dark blue and filled with his old Spider-Man costume. Amazing, he never thought he'd ever see it again. Hypnotized, Peter took the suit out and held it up. It was wrinkled and not in good shape whatsoever. But still, just seeing it again was something to behold.

"I found it and kept it?" MJ said, gently, "Peter? Are you ok?"

He nodded and folded up the costume, "Yeah... just... remembering." . An idea struck him at the moment, "How about my old house?"

"You want to see it?"

Peter nodded.

Minutes later...

The two teenagers stepped inside the abandoned home. Parker carefully stepped through, flashes of memories invading. He saw Christmas morning, falling down the stairs, playing ball in the house with uncle Ben while Aunt May yelled but then joined in. He closed his eyes, trying not to cry. He didn't want to appear so vulnerable in front of Mary Jane.

As for MJ, she started explaining the current status, "After everything happened, the bank decided on putting this up for auction. Nobody bought it, obviously."

"Shouldn't it be mine?" Parker asked.

"At first, it was going to be. But, from what I heard, the bank didn't want to wait around. Sorry, Peter. Aunt Anna and I tried to bid on it ourselves but the price went up too high."

More memories were attacking Peter. He didn't want to be here a second later, "We should go now."

That night...

In her bedroom, Mary Jane was chatting online with her boyfriend, Flash Thompson. Peter had just gotten out of the shower and into some clean clothes. For now, he was on MJ's floor, playing her GameBoy, trying to pass the time and forget some of the things he went through over the past year and a half.

"Ugh, jerk." MJ muttered under her breath, staring at the monitor.

"I didn't do anything!" Peter exclaimed, shutting the GameBoy off, "What's your problem?"

Just a touch fearful, Mary stared at Peter for a few seconds, "I actually meant... my boyfriend." she gestured to the screen.

Peter took a breath and ran both hands over his head, "Sorry, I just..."

"It's ok."

"No," he piped up, "It's not ok, MJ. You can't just excuse everything I do because of... of... what happened to me. If I act out of line, you can't let it go. You should call me out on it."

An awkward pause passed by, MJ breaking it with an explanation, "It's not bad enough he instant messages me instead of calling, right? But now he breaks our date for saturday."

Parker kept quiet for a moment before replying, "Oh."

The redhead nodded, running a few fingers through her hair, "Yeah, exactly."

"I... I was being serious, Mary Jane. Ya know... about what I said. You shouldn't cut me any breaks."

"Peter," MJ sighed, "You've been through enough already. So, i'm not gonna nitpick about little things. Especially little things that don't matter, anyway."

Peter scoffed, "You don't get it." and left the room, going into his new bedroom. But, before he could get there, MJ's mom cut him off. Pete flashed a false smile, hoping for no conversation.

Anna saw MJ's saddened face and figured something to be off, "Peter, I understand this is a very big adjustment."

"Understand?" Peter asked, something going off in his brain and telling him to be cold, "I really don't see how either of you could understand. I mean, not only are my parents gone but now my aunt and uncle are dead. And, truth be told, it's my fault!"

Anna became quiet. But Mary Jane spoke from her bedroom, "Peter, you can't do this to yourself! You have to stop saying that and blaming yourself." . Anna gestured for her daughter to let this pass. Peter took a breath and made it to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Behind the closed door, Parker felt like punching something. He was quickly reminded of the gym's punching bag in Juvenile Hall. What would the doctors label him now as? Jaded? Maybe he was projecting misguided anger towards Mary Jane and her mother. He wasn't dumb, he knew he was acting cold... that his fuse was too short right bout now. But, how would they react? What would they do if everything was stolen from them... twice over.

Peter sat on his bed, elbows on his knees and leaning forward. God, if only he was responsible that night. With the power he possessed, he could of taken down that goon with no problem. Probably even without dropping one ounce of sweat. Yeah, Spider-Man could of finished the job, no problem. That criminal would of been wrapped up in webbing and behind bars. Then... then none of this would of happened. Aunt May and Uncle Ben would still be alive. Right now, they would all be watching a movie together or playing a late game of catch in the backyard.

The tears threatened to slip down his face. Peter tried blocking them, holding the sorrow inside. He became short of breath. They're dead... they're dead and they're never coming back! You're never gonna see them again. Peter stood, his teeth grinding down on each other. He doubled-over, trying to catch his breath. He became panicky and the walls felt like they were closing. With great power comes great responsibility. He wiped his forehead, the sweat rolling down. Aunt May, Uncle Ben. Aunt May, Uncle Ben.

He became dizzy and nearly fainted right there, his balance barely maintained by the dresser. Though, he still dropped slowly to the floor. Through wandering eyes filled with visions of his deceased family, Parker managed to spot something. The Spider-Man mask. Peter crawled across the floor, taking the backpack out of the closet.

"Spider-Man." he said, his body and mind finally calming down. He took the backpack out of the closet and tossed it on his bed. Picking through it, the costume couldn't be salvaged. But... but the mask. Somehow, Parker wasn't bothered by the current dingy state of this piece of material. The lenses were dusty, he quickly wiped them off with the side of his shirt. The feeling he had now was the same odd feeling that he had gotten earlier when he found it. It felt... right.

"With great power comes great responsibility." Peter repeated, hearing his uncle's voice say it in his mind with him.

What if... no. No... no he couldn't. But just what if? What if he duplicated the costume and web-shooters? What if Peter went out under the disguise of Spider-Man and fought crime? What if he made sure that what happened to him, never happened to anyone else? Staring into those bug-eyed lenses, Parker eerily smiled. What if he went through with this, and used his abilities for the benefit of others?

"With great power comes great responsibility."

The next morning...

After his first good night's sleep in an extremely long while, Parker enjoyed a hearty breakfast and apologized to Mary Jane and her mother. After Anna drove Mary Jane to school, she would be going to work for the day. Thus, leaving Peter all by his lonesome for awhile. MJ protested him being alone but Anna insisted that he needed some extra space to breath.

Peter got cleaned up, put on some clean clothes and headed over to his old house. On a mission, he blocked out the stinging memories and ran up the stairs. Everything was so dusty and unkept. Not to mention every step echoed throughout the empty house. Finding a trap door, Peter climbed into the attic.

"It's gotta be here." he looked around the empty attic and started counting floorboards. After countin to nine, he knelt down and lifted one up. "Lucky break number one of the day." he said, lifting out a small red tin. Once he opened it, he breathed a sigh of relief. His extra pair of web-shooters... unharmed and still in tact. Along with them, the recipe for homemade web-fluid. Peter put the floorboard back and left the house.

Returning to his new home, he dropped his belongings into his closet, then picked up his mask and took it to the sink. From there, a proper washing came. He thought about simply washing the entire outfit. But one more look at the raggedy and dingy outfit gave him a second opinion. If he, at least, had the mask then he would be all set for what he was setting out to acomplish tonight.

With the mask washed and drying, Peter called up the city taxi and asked for Robbie. A few minutes later, the man himself showed up and gave Peter a ride to the store. Now this... this he was not proud of. The things he needed for his web fluid would cost money. Money he didn't have. Casually walking into the home improvement store, Peter walked the aisles for a minute or two. After finding the things he needed, he slipped out the back but knew someone was tailing him. With a quick jump, he was on the roof and out of sight. A moment or two following, he heard someobody talking then head back inside.

Late that night...

The eleventh hour had come for Peter Parker. Dressed in baggy clothes and a dark blue hoodie, he slipped his mask on and fitted his web-shooters properly. He kept reminding himself that this costume was a mere temporary fix. He probably looked like the biggest goof right about now but it would have to do. He kept repeating Uncle Ben's lifelong motto to himself over and over, "With great power comes great responsibility. With great power comes great responsibility." . He opened the window, climbed out and closed it, carefully climbing up to the roof of the house. In hindsight, climbing to the roof was probably a bad idea. After spinning a webline, he was lost to the night.

In the city...

Swinging from building to building, Parker noticed how different the city looked from high above. Stopping on a building side, clinging to it, thanks to his abilities, Parker concentrated. His spider-sense, he was trying to see if he could use it as a radar. This method was far from perfected, though. His sense would come alive, but he was having difficulty pinpointing a location.

As the night progressed, Parker grew tired. Nothing. He hadn't found himself one bad guy to bust. He sat on a building's ledge, next to a gargoyle. With a sigh, he started to come to the realization that this idea wasn't...

Spider-sense! Parker turned sharply, looking down into an alleyway that led to a parking lot behind an apartment building. He dropped down, clinging to a wall and listening in. A deal was going down between two men in suits and a few casually dressed goons. Surprising detail, one of the guys in suits had a wide-brimmed hat along with an orange and black mask. Or maybe it was all orange and just the shadows made it seem black? No matter, Peter listened closer. Another surprise came in the form of someone being tied up and taken out of the trunk. No way, this couldn't be some kind of execution.

Parker wasted nomore precious seconds. He fired two webs and brought himself in. After instantly taking out one of the bigger goons, he flipped around, dodging a chorus of bullets. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" he questioned sarcastically.

"Who the hell is this?" the man in the mask asked, reloading his pistol.

"Just your friendly-neighborhood Spider-Man!" Peter exclaimed, coming down with a punch that nearly knocked the masked man into oblivion. He side-stepped a goon, tripped the other up and knocked the other suit guy out with a sidekick. "So, if I leave you here will you be good and not run off?" he asked the criminals, though all they could answer with was mumbles of pain. Parker sighed mockingly and shook his head in a dissaproving manner, "Thought so." then webbed them up by their wrists. By his calculations, the restraints should last long enough for the police to arrive and properly arrest the men.

Parker focused his attention on their hostage. He untied the man, the rope leaving bruising marks on the man's aching arms, "You're safe now."

Trembling, the man took one look at Spider-Man, and then the ones who were responsible, "Thanks, guy. But, i'll never be safe. You know how many crazies are running around out there? There's one guy, some russian. The man can change the way he looks. Calls himself a chameleon."

"Chameleon..." Parker muttered under his spider mask, mentally noting that name. "Listen, run off and call the cops. My webs should hold these losers long enough." . Pete spun a web and zipped up to a building side. He then looked over his shoulder, his spidey-sense blaring. "No!" he exclaimed, firing a webline down to the former hostage as he picked up a gun and aimed for the man in the mask. Peter jumped back down, holding the gun in his hand, "What the hell do you think you're doing? I just saved your life and you're gonna throw it away?"

The man stifled a sob, "Them bastards tortured me! The more of 'em dead... the better! I mean, c'mon, you're like a superhero, right? Isn't it safer to just kill them off one by one? Nowadays, nobody stays in jail. A good alibi and they're scott-free."

For a quiet moment, Peter looked down at the gun in his hand. The man had a point, it would be alot easier and safer to just kill them all off right now. But no. With great power comes great responsibility. Spider-Man saved people now, wether they deserved it or not. Parker picked up all the guns, emptied the ammo and then webbed them all in a secure ball. "Just call the cops." he mentioned before spinning his webs and swinging away.

Home...

After his long, inaugural, night of crimefighting, Parker was ready for some serious sleep. Exhaustion had set in fully as he climbed through his bedroom window as quietly as possible. Spider-sense went off, and he found Mary Jane sitting on his bed. He took a deep breath, put his hood down, and took off his mask. A flushed and sweaty face stared back at Mary Jane as she began to talk...

"I heard you leave." she said, standing up, "Where did you go? What did you do?"

He held up the Spider-Man mask, "With great power comes great responsibility. Uncle Ben always used to tell me that but I didn't really pay much attention." . He tossed the mask down and unzipped his hoodie, "Tonight, I went out as Spider-Man and I stopped someone from being killed in a parking lot. Then... well... I stopped the hostage from killing the kidnapper."

MJ's jaw nearly dropped, "You're not lying. Peter, you could have been..."

"Mary Jane, my life changed for the worst because I neglected my responsibility. The only two people left that really cared about me... I let them down." . His head shook, a determination evident in his brown eyes, "I'm not gonna let that happen ever again. There's more families out there... more people crying for help. As Spider-Man, I can do more than the police. Let's face it, they can't be everywhere. I can't either... but I can cover alot more ground than they can."

Mary Jane held him by his hands and looked into his eyes, "They're not the only ones that care, Peter. You've always been my best friend and you always will be."

Peter's eyes closed, as did Mary Jane's, and their foreheads touched as they held hands. "MJ, this is something I have to do. You can't let anyone know my secret identity."

She smiled faintly and spoke softly, "Tiger, you can count on me."

A week later...

"This is kinda freaking me out, Peter."

Mary Jane commented as she and Peter stood atop a tall building. Now, in full Spider-Man costume, Peter's transformation was complete. The past week, he and MJ worked on the design. Red and blue all the way with black webbing to really top off the motif. Also, MJ helped out with tracking this Chameleon figure that Peter heard about. A string of robberies had occured, all pointing to different people. Of course, Spider-Man knew who was behind it all. The police, though, were still baffled.

Spidey turned his head to his left, looking to MJ, "Thank you. It really means alot that you're behind me on this."

"What are friends for, right?" MJ replied, cringing at the astounding height they were at, "Ok, seriously, i'm going home. I guess my dream of being on top of a building and looking down on the city... isn't as cool as I thought it would be."

Silently, Parker nodded and MJ headed inside the building to make her way home. Now alone, Spider-Man carefully stood upon the building's ledge and gazed down towards New York. During the week, he had found out that guy he wrangled last week was going by the name of Crime-Master. He had numerous drug rings running throughout the city. Of course, not anymore.

Spidey spun a web and commenced swinging. Next on the list was Chameleon, and then... who knows? The one thing that always mattered and needed to remain constant was Peter making good use of his abilities.

Parker stopped next to that same gargoyle from last week. He squatted, keeping a hand on its shoulder for good balance. It still hurt... losing his aunt and uncle, this wasn't making the pain go away. But maybe, just maybe, he could somehow make amends this way. Spider-Man stood up straight, "This is for you Uncle Ben and Aunt May. I can't change the past but maybe I can change the future."

The Web-Slinger. The Wall-Crawler. As the weeks turned into months, Spider-Man grew well-known. As did his rogues gallery. The Chameleon, The Lizard, The Vulture and The Sandman. Not to mention, possibly his greatest adversary of all... The Green Goblin. There was also the underlying worry of somebody one day solving the mystery of Spider-Man's identity. Peter Parker feared that the ones that knew of his radioactive blood would one day open up for the right amount of money.

The End

There's my one shot, cementing an alternate origin story while leaving it wide open for the future. Was it any good? Did it stank? It goes along the lines of the original continuity. I know some parts weren't great, as I didn't truly have the knowledge of what exactly would occur with the laws and such but I think I did relatively ok with all that. I could be very wrong, though. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Review, critique, criticize, flame on, whatever ya want.