A/N: Oh. My. Goodness. The last chapter! I'm crying, I'm literally sobbing over here. Please enjoy :) I've lowkey had this written for over a year and I'm so excited to finally publish it!

I swung through the chilly night, making a mental note to ask Tony if there was a heater in this thing. The suit was amazing, but geez, spandex sucked for keeping warm, especially with how high up I was. Spring's final burst of chill before summer finally began was really going all out.

"Got anything for me, Karen?" I asked, landing on a rooftop in a crouch and stretching, marveling at how light and agile I felt. It really was a complete turnaround from the klutz I'd been not too long ago. Granted, I was still a klutz, just…a more acrobatic one, now.

"Nothing that I—wait, CCTV's picking up some suspicious activity, probably a mugging, two streets over. Suspect armed, one victim, a teenager." Karen's voice came over my comm, and I sprinted to the edge of the roof and shot a web, swinging between skyscrapers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thanks," I huffed, landing on a low roof next to the aforementioned alley, slinking quietly to the edge.

"Let me know if you need backup, kid," Clint said through the earpiece, munching on popcorn or chips or something else super noisy. He was my on-call babysitter for the night. I'd graduated from having four Avengers present to two Avengers, and finally just one, over the last couple weeks. On the strict condition that I never put myself in a situation that was more than I could handle, and if I thought one might be developing I'd tell Karen to inform them immediately, they'd been giving me more freedom, and I was really developing my own style as Spiderman.

I loved it, and I'd been right—I needed this.

"I can handle a mugging, Clint," I retorted quietly, peering over the edge of the roof.

"Just checking," he said, sounding a little preoccupied. I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. He'd developed a recent fascination with Prodigal Son after I'd made him re-watch the pilot with me and had since been binging the series, which I was sure he was doing in the van now.

Recollecting myself, I peered over the edge, taking stock of the situation. A lone figure clad all in black was brandishing a four-inch hunting knife against a teenage girl, standing against the wall of the alley. I noticed, absently, that she had to be about my age. She was a tall-ish, thin girl with frizzy brown hair and a take-no-prisoners bitch face.

In other circumstances I'd feel kind of mean describing her like that, but in this instance, I really couldn't give a better description. I mean, it was freaking perfect.

The girl stood stock still, arms crossed, looking…bored.

Well. I was flexible. I could deal with this.

"For the last time, kid, give me everything on you," the crook threatened, gravelly voice echoing between the walls of the alley. His Jersey accent really was kind of annoying. Granted, I was probably biased, as a Queens native. "Including your phone."

"Do you realize how many laws you're breaking?" The girl asked, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes like a disappointed older sibling. "Attempted theft. Aggravated assault. Use of an unregistered weapon. I can go on." I didn't think that last one was real, but it sounded cool, especially with how seriously she said it. "And I was talking to my friend. You interrupted my conversation."

"I don't care," he spat, moving forward, obviously having lost patience with the girl. "If you're going to be a bitch, I can just as easily take it."

"Hey—" She didn't look scared, per se, but her face had become nervous, and she shuffled back a step or two.

Okay. Cue the friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

"Is this really how you like to spend your nights?" I shouted, vaulting over the fire escape and landing in a crouch on a Dumpster, hearing a hollow clang. Both of their heads whipped towards me in surprise, and I was glad to get the man's attention off of her. "Mugging high schoolers? Really? Don't you have any ambition, sir? You could do so much more."

"Hah?" He asked, turning his weapon on me. "Who the hell you think you're talking to, freak?"

Feigning fear and placing myself between him and the girl, I shrunk down a bit, cowering close to the asphalt. "Whoa, is that a real knife, man?"

Seeming slightly surprised, and pleased, the man cockily waved it in front of me, saying, "Yes, it's a real knife. Just let me go, man. It's a real knife."

I crouched dramatically on the ground, whining in a high-pitched voice, "You've found my weakness. It's small knives." I shrunk even more, pressing low to the ground. "Anything but knives!"

On the last word, I webbed the hand holding the knife to the brick wall, letting out a short laugh at his shocked look.

"Wh-what the hell is this stuff, man?"

"It's web fluid. Designed it myself. It would take way too long to explain."

Pretending to sneeze, I webbed his other hand to the wall as well. "Come on, man, this isn't funny!" He shouted, struggling in vain. Pfft. He wasn't going anywhere in that stuff. This was kind of fun.

"It's a little funny," I said, putting my hands on my hips in accomplishment and glancing back at the girl, who was watching interestedly. "C'mon, don't you think it's funny?"

I'd kind of expected some awe, maybe a dropped jaw and some hero-worship (just a little, though, which I'd probably shut down really quickly), maybe a "That was awesome!" to wrap things up. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you are?"

Oh. Well, that was fine, too. I guessed I needed to get used to dealing with different people and their reactions, anyways. "I, ah, well, I'm a little new to the crime-fighting world," I said, rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment. Then I realized that was a very Peter Parker thing to do and straightened up. "But, uh, I'm Spiderman. One word, no hyphen or anything. I try to help out around New York, you know? Help out where the police can't. Especially in Queens. But in other places too. Yeah, just…wherever." Smooth, Parker.

Again, stupidly, I expected her to look at least a little grateful.

The girl was not impressed.

"I'm Michelle, and you just broke more laws than this guy," she said, nodding her chin at the still-struggling mugger. "Vigilantism. Unauthorized use of restraint. I doubt you're filing for a citizen's arrest, so you're acting as an unsupervised policeman, as well. I can go on."

Again, I didn't know if all those were real, but…well, her confidence kind of made me want to invest in a good lawyer.

"Uh…" I stuttered, debating whether to say You're welcome or I'm sorry. "I…saved you…?" I didn't sound very confident.

She scoffed. "Hardly. The guy wouldn't have used the knife. It's for show."

The poor mugger made an indignant sound in the background, but we ignored him. I wasn't sure how true that was, either, but the girl—Michelle—seemed confident in that fact.

"Anyways. You may wanna be careful, Spiderboy." Michelle said, passing me with a smile (finally) and making her way to the mouth of the alley. "You keep doing this and the police will be after you. I get that you wanna help people, and that's cool, but watch your back."

Unable to form an eloquent retort, I opted for a weak, "It's Spiderman."

She smirked, and I realized for the first time that when she didn't look like she wanted to kill me, she was actually…really pretty. "Not with that voice it's not." I didn't even have the presence of mind to respond to that, gaping at her. "Nice to meet you, Spider-Kid. I'll call the police for you." With that, she was gone.

I stood still for a few seconds, in complete and utter shock at what had just transpired. "Karen, what just happened?"

"Well," Karen said, sounding a bit confused herself, "I'm not quite able to explain. Those were…conflicting reactions."

I stared at the mugger with what would have been a shocked expression, if he could see my face, and threw my hands up in the air. "I don't know, man. Was it the jokes? Were they too much?"

The man looked at me like I was crazy. From the girl's reaction, maybe I was.

I sighed, shooting a web and propelling myself up over the building, starting to swing to the street where Clint was waiting with the car. "Clint, I'm on my way to you."

Clint didn't hear me. He was too busy cackling and whispering "Spider-Kid" under his breath.

…

Saying goodbye to Karen and logging offline, I stripped out of my suit and threw it in the hamper before getting dressed, pausing to stare at the scars on my torso and arm in the bathroom mirror.

The scars had faded considerably with time, but they were still clear and visible. The flat, white scar on my arm was jagged, running from my wrist to my elbow along the pale flesh of my forearm. Unconsciously I rubbed my wrist, tucking my arm against my stomach protectively. It was a nervous habit I'd picked up.

My chest had straight, thin, white lines forming crude letters, the line running vertically up my chest. The H started just above my belly button, the letters climbing up my body like a macabre staircase until the A reached the middle of my sternum.

I sighed through my nose, looking them up and down. They'd never go away, but…I was making my peace with them. Slowly, but surely. Maybe one day, I'd have the courage to get them removed…I doubted that would be for a long time. My family had mentioned the option, but I'd quickly shot it down, and they hadn't pushed me on it. I wanted to be able to accept them before finally getting them removed.

Anything less, and I thought maybe I'd…I didn't know. I'd feel like I lost to Jason. Like I couldn't accept what he'd done to me. So I promised myself that I'd have to accept them and everything that had happened before I could let myself remove them.

Blinking quickly, I tugged on a sweatshirt and some warm sweatpants before going to the kitchen.

Bucky was already there. He smiled when I came in. "Hey, kiddo," he said softly, ruffling my hair as I hopped up onto one of the barstools. "The others went to bed early; Nat has Stella. Clint said patrol was okay. Heard you had an interesting mugging, though."

I groaned and put my head on my arms. "Bucky, it was so weird. The girl actually seemed…I don't know, mad! I saved her! And she was my age, too, which was also kind of weird."

Bucky chuckled, sipping from a soda can. "Sounds like you need some hot chocolate."

"Of course I do."

Bucky made me the hot chocolate, piling it with whipped cream, the way I liked it. We kept up a steady stream of conversation, talking and laughing quietly over the bar. He passed me the steaming mug and I took it, taking a tentative sip. Damn, he made some good hot chocolate. I guessed I gave him lots of practice, with as much as I drank it.

Bucky glanced over and laughed just as he took a sip of soda, doing half a spit-take on accident. I grinned despite myself. Seeing Bucky laugh always made me happy, since it was a little rare. "What?"

"Kid, you have the world's best whipped cream mustache," he laughed, grabbing a paper towel and handing it to me. Changing his mind as I reached for it, he snatched it back. "Wait. First. FRIDAY?"

"Already snapped the picture, Sergeant Barnes," she said, sounding amused.

"Good." With that, he handed me the paper towel.

"Blackmail?" I asked, taking another sip of the steaming liquid, careful to avoid the whipped cream.

"Of course," he grinned. He took my shoulder and pulled me gently from my stool, towards the elevator. "Come on. Bring that."

I obeyed, following behind him with my mug in hand. "Roof, FRIDAY," he said, leaning against the wall. I didn't question him as the elevator smoothly ascended.

We stopped with a ding, coming to rest on the roof of the Compound. The balcony extended well over the edge, providing a little bit of roof to lounge around, if we wanted. A glass cover automatically lifted over the furniture when it started raining, so we never had to worry about that. The Compound was in the middle of nowhere, so the stars were exposed and beautiful, not hidden by the glare of New York City lights.

"Wow," I said, sitting down on one of the fluffy couches Tony had put up here. "It's a nice night."

Bucky nodded, sitting next to me with an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. I melted against him. It was a habit I doubted I would ever break. Going so long with so little physical comfort, I doubted I'd ever be embarrassed by it, especially with my family.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes as I sipped my hot chocolate, looking at the sky. I really liked constellations, and finding them was kind of fun—the Big and Little Dippers, Pegasus, Cassiopeia…May and Ben and I used to go to the roof of the apartment buildings on clear nights and struggle to find the constellations through the smoggy haze blanketing the city.

I sighed and closed my eyes at the memory, wrapping myself in the love and comfort I finally felt like I could accept. "Thanks."

It wasn't one of those moments where Bucky said, "For what?" and I got into this big long speech about everything he and the others had done for me. That was something I loved. I knew, and he knew.

"You're welcome, kid," he said, turning his head and pressing a light kiss to my hair, squeezing my shoulder. I liked it when he did that. It reminded me of May and Ben. "You've come a long way, Peter."

I smiled. It was true. "Yeah. Thanks to you guys."

"Nah," he denied, tightening his arm around me. "We just helped you along. You were already well on your way, and you'll…hell, you're going great places, kid." He paused. "We'll always be there, you know. We'll be there to support you every step of the way, no matter what."

"I know." No hesitation. No stuttering. It wasn't even a promise, anymore, just a fact.

"I'm proud of you."

I felt tears threaten to blind me, but I downed the last of my hot chocolate and swiped them away, staring up at the sky. "Thanks. I hope I'll make you prouder, one day."

"You will."

It was a moment that I never wanted to end. Bucky and I lounged on the roof of our home in the chilly night with the remnants of hot chocolate and warm memories. After everything that had happened, after everything that life had dragged me through, dragged us through, it was finally worth it. Not for everything that had happened, or everything that would, but for this moment right here. This moment of utter peace and security and comfort. Of knowing I was loved and safe and protected and wanted.

Of knowing that Bucky, my guardian and brother, was always going to be there. Of knowing that I had eight other family members at my back to support me whenever I needed them, and to laugh with and talk with and go through life with.

Of knowing I would always, always have a family to fall back on.

A family of superheroes, no less.

I knew that no matter what the future brought, no matter how bad things got…I wouldn't have to face it alone.

I closed my eyes and eventually dozed off against Bucky's shoulder, content.

Sometime later, Bucky shook me gently away. "By the way," he said, taking my mug and going ahead of me to the elevator, hiding his face. "A bunch of us are all going to brand Spider-Kid on every single thing you own. Fair warning."

"Bucky!"

He had the nerve to laugh as he slipped into the elevator, away from my wrath.

Laughing, I followed him inside, to the waiting warmth of home. Behind me, the whispers of my past faded into the light of the stars.

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A/N: Aw. You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?

You know the drill: bolded text means mega-gore. Skip if you don't like it ;)

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After Credits Scene

Epilogue: Thaddeus Jason Ross II

Thaddeus Jason Ross II didn't think people gave him nearly enough credit when comparing him to his father.

His father was a cruel, manipulative man who used every trick in the book. He experimented on children and he used defenseless victims against people who loved them to get what he wanted. No corner was too cruel to cut. He would stoop to any level to get what he was after, and in the end, he'd rise right back up. He was clever, cold, calculating, and calm. Jason's father was a force to be reckoned with.

Jason was far, far worse.

Ross used means to ends. Granted, he really didn't care what means he used, as long as he got results. Jason was just like him in that respect: he'd use anything.

The difference between father and son was that Jason whole-heartedly, thoroughly enjoyed it. And he knew it, too. Jason took pride in how twisted he was, how clever, how shrewd. He knew how sharp he was, how just a few words, a couple well placed thoughts of doubt, could demolish even the strongest structures from within.

He loved every second of it.

So when a couple of surviving HYDRA agents and scientists had managed to drag him and their research from the burning building and barely save his life, and he realized he could still fulfill his ultimate goal, he was damn pleased with himself.

It had been close. From what the scientists told him, the bullet had barely missed his aorta. That damn red-headed bitch had done a number on him. Healing, however, had taken much less time than they'd expected, with their prior research to speed the lengthy process along. They'd already started injecting him with diluted solutions of their experimental formulas to make the cell mutation easier on his body; his healing had been augmented considerably. That was probably what saved his life.

While recuperating, he'd been informed that the Avengers had yet to examine the wreckage of the base—too preoccupied with a certain injured teenager, he presumed. His scientists took imprints of his teeth and used their technology—an advanced graphics system coupled with a 3D printer that replicated synthetic human tissue—to create an entirely new set of his teeth. They created a femur and jawbone with similar technology. They were then charred by a similar, controlled explosion, and planted underneath the wreckage. They took the surviving recordings from the base to pinpoint the location where the bitch had gunned him down to make sure the evidence was placed accordingly.

When the Avengers finally got around to scoping out the base, all they'd find of him would be a handful of his teeth and a couple bones, the rest of him having been unfortunately incinerated by the blast, too close in proximity to leave anything else behind.

He was quite happy with his plan. It gave him as much time as he needed to prepare himself while the world remained oblivious.

Once he was functional again, after murdering the scientists who'd inconvenienced him with mandatory bed-rest, he used his father's remaining assets to set up an untraceable account, which was filled with money by a colleague inside the pathetic remains of HYDRA every two weeks. He found a remote HYDRA bunker in Russia that hadn't been used in a while and put the scientists to work, presiding over them all with an iron fist and a stone heart.

Unfortunately, his father had been captured and was in the process of being tried for—well, the list was a bit too tedious to completely remember, but Jason knew that his father was as good as dead. The man had raised him and had been a good father. It was a shame the way things had ended, but Jason knew this day would come. He'd been two steps away from a coup d'état, anyhow. His father's dire need for secrecy infuriated him.

Under new rule, change was slow to come. It took months. He knew it would, but patience had really never been his forte. All those months living in that homeless shelter, with the destitute of society when he should have been treated like a king, had tested the little patience he'd had. But watching little Peter suffer and squirm, struggling to survive, had been worth every second.

Jason's head jerked angrily, a tic he'd recently acquired whenever he thought of Peter Parker. His hatred was palpable. That—that child, that kid with nothing but a cat and a bit of an attitude, had taken his future from him. His power. His empire. Everything.

A grin split his face.

Well. Almost everything.

He held up the vial of blood in front of his face, staring at his salvation with nothing short of crazed awe. The mass of blood cells seemed to be alive, moving, slithering around inside the tempered glass tube sickeningly. It had taken on a greenish hue from the effects of the testing, and the alterations, but it was still what he needed: Peter Parker's blood.

The scientists, after weeks of grueling work, had isolated and extracted the improved super soldier serum—now, they all knew, actually a combination of human and spider DNA, with several extra features—from his blood. They couldn't unwind it from the DNA strands, but they'd made it visible and prominent when looking at the cells rather than simply part of the DNA itself.

Jason grinned. That was all he needed.

"My friends," he said, spreading his arms from the balcony he stood upon, looking over the scientists cowering in the lab, suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion. Most of them were leaning against counters, sitting in chairs heavily, some even on their knees on the floor. Jason found it exhilarating, the grin splitting his face widening. "Today marks the beginning: the rebuilding of the HYDRA regime, under Thaddeus Jason Ross—the second. I will be officially taking over for my father, as of now. You are privileged to be my first followers." Jason was puzzled as to why none of them looked nearly as honored as they should have, but he was too drunk on power and excitement to care much.

"Thanks to your fruitful efforts, I now possess the serum sought after for so many decades, and with it, I will become the most powerful being on this planet. I will grapple with Captain America like a gladiator with a child. I will obliterate Thor, a god, and the Hulk will cower before me. I will rip Iron Man's suit apart and kill him with my bare hands. I will slay Hawkeye with his own arrows, Black Widow with her own bullets—after paying her back dearly for her part in our delay.

"I will rip the Falcon's wings from his shoulders and watch him plummet to his death. War Machine will fall once more, but this time, it will be fatal. The Winter Soldier will see just what happens when he crosses HYDRA. He'll kill hundreds, thousands, and I'll force him to beat Peter Parker to the edge of death, and he will kill himself after the guilt drives him mad. And Peter Parker…" Jason felt himself tingling with excitement. "Peter Parker will watch it all before I finally show him the mercy that is death."

With that, Jason opened his lips just enough to down the contents of the vial, the writhing mass slipping down his throat, burning with icy fire that settled in his stomach like a boulder.

The effects were instantaneous.

His body writhed and convulsed. The vial shattered as he dropped it, the sound drowned out by his feral screams echoing off the steel walls of the bunker. The exhausted scientists watched with a mixture of awe and horror as Jason's body broke itself in its attempt to bond with the foreign substance. Jason's hands tore at his hair, bloody clumps of scalp littering the ground around him.

Slowly, his screams became hitched, separated, until the scientists recognized it for what it was.

Laughter.

The next hour of Jason's existence was a mixture of pain and feral delight. He moved like he'd never moved before, with deadly grace and precision, slithering around like a snake in the underbrush only to strike with the unbridled ferocity of a rabid monster. If asked, he'd only be able to recall screams—not his own—and a portrait of red-stained tile, body parts littered around in quaint little puddles, like debris stuck in pockets of rain after a heavy storm.

After coming back to himself, he looked around the bloodbath. The thirty odd scientists he'd brought with him to this hellhole were scattered around the room, torn apart. It was an absolute massacre. Curious, Jason looked down at his blood covered hands, sharpened, blood-stained teeth bared in a savage grin as he observed his skin. It was…green, with tough scales. The red blood on his skin, he noticed absently, reminded him of Christmas. Jason was confident the scales would be fairly impenetrable to most attacks. He was faster, stronger, more agile. He was better.

He was superior.

A broken mirror lay a few feet away, shards haphazardly reflecting his grisly frame. He stared with no small amount of admiration, his green, disfigured face splitting into that horrible, gruesome smile. The name came to him in a glorious epiphany, and he tipped his head back, letting the shuddering, high-pitched laugh echo through the death-shrouded room.

"Be ready, Peter," he spat to himself, grabbing one of the scientists' latest projects—a flying board with foot-straps to keep the rider secure—and lumbering towards the entrance, his already impressive frame having been augmented to over seven feet in height, powerful, deadly muscles and strength enlarging his body. He opened the thick door, revealing the snow-filled landscape, the battering, freezing wind not even fazing him. The board sputtered to life and he hopped on, staring over the snowy expanse in absolute glee. "The Green Goblin is coming for you."

His laughter ricocheted off the snow-covered mountains for miles.

FIN

A/N: Here we are. At the end of Whispers in the Dark. Man, what a ride, huh?

I won't lie, I've lain awake in my dark room at night cackling to myself when I thought about you guys' reactions to this last chapter, and I have absolutely no shame at all. :D Let me know how you reacted to that little plot twist ;) A lot of you were like "wow I'm so glad that son of a bitch is dead" and I'm very sorry that I played you for so long cause LOL he's not.

And then a lot of you were like "hmmmmmmmm *scrutinizing glares* I don't think he's dead hoss" and I was like "Hehehehe I'm not gonna tell you (but you're totally right)"

SO no matter what category you fell in, I hope this gets you excited for the sequel ;)

I'd like to hop on my soap box for a second: I just cranked out over 200k words of content, so it would mean the world if you left a few words in a review to let me know what you thought of the whole story, as it's the first multi-story fic I've finished. Please. Please very much. Literally begging you to tell me what you thought. It can be as simple as "Good." "Meh." "Cool." Literally just that. It would mean the world to me :) thank you.

Thank yous

Guys. Writing this fic has been incredible. Thank you so very much to every single one of you, from the bottom of my heart. If you favorited this story, I adore you for liking this story enough to want others to see that. If you followed this story, I can't express how much it means that you wanted to know when there was a new chapter. It means you were invested! And for all of my reviewers, I tried to reply to every review, because I wanted to thank you personally for taking the time to tell me what you thought. I'll never be able to express how much that means to me. Finally, to those of you who read, but didn't do any of the above—thank you for your dedication to this fic, thank you for making it to the end, and thank you for reading!

Review Shout-outs, Chapter 49

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter: Melancholy's Sunshine, amb6675, alltheSinnersandalltheSaints, FranzyPearlfan, Megan844, BabyPinkPuppy, and SongNoFound!

A special thank you to Melancholy's Sunshine and BabyPinkPuppy, who have been with me and leaving consistent reviews on almost every chapter since Chapter 2, over two years ago. Thanks, guys :)

In Other News…

I have a lot of ideas for some other stories—in this little universe I've created, and in others—so I'll be working on those. If you have any requests, please message me! If you haven't already, go read my other stories! I've dappled in the Avengers, Supernatural, Alex Rider (which I'm SO proud of and is going so well!), and Criminal Minds, so far. Please check them out if you're interested! (Shameless self-advertising is real).

A Challenge…

I've got a challenge for this challenge. Can you tell me what movie I took some of the dialogue from when Peter was talking to the mugger? It's word for word scripted XD

A Request…

AGAIN, in case you missed my begging, please review and let me know what you thought of this final chapter and the story! I'd love to know what you thought of the overall thing now that it's finally come to an end, if you feel like it :) but most importantly, I hope you've enjoyed reading it.

The Sequel…...!

The sequel will probably be titled Smells Like Teen Spirit, and will be published after I've written some of it and actually planned it XD it'll have a LOT of different dynamics to it, so please be excited! I'm not married to the title, so let me know if you have recs. Here's the synopsis:

As Peter Parker starts his junior year at Midtown High, navigating his new life in the limelight as the Avengers' kid and in the shadows as Spiderman, new challenges, friends, and rivals await him. Unfortunately, an old enemy lurks, and he's making friends of his own. With the Sinister Six looming, can the Avengers keep Peter and themselves safe?

I'll post an announcement here when I post the sequel, too!

I will say this: I hope you've noticed, because I definitely have, but my writing has improved a lot over the past two and a half years, so the beginning chapters are a little choppy for my taste. I'm going to be editing the first few chapters (maybe like the first half of the story) and THEN I'll really dive into the sequel, but I already have the first few chapters planned, and I'm so excited! I hope you are too!

A Final Thank-You…

Again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. So. Much. This has been a breathtaking journey, and I couldn't have done it without you.

I'll see you in the sequel :)

END OF WHISPERS IN THE DARK