While looking at some things in the basement of their Unsub's home, Spencer manages to touch a spell on the wall that transports him to the MCU and makes a few... changes, along the way.

He meets Peter Parker, a smart kid just trying to do his best to keep his city safe, and despite Spencer's best efforts he finds himself firmly entwined in the kid's life. Trying to keep him safe, learn control of these powers that he's found himself with, and somehow figure out a way to get home, all without getting caught by anyone and turned into a science experiment the way it always seems to go in the movies. It's not easy, and it doesn't get easier when you add in an over-protective mentor, a whole bunch of political drama, and a bunch of feelings that Spencer knows better than to even think about admitting to.

Spencer tries to cope with it all, while all the while working with this 'Dr. Strange' to try and figure out a way to get him back home. Only, as more time passes, he begins to question whether that's what he actually wants.

What the hell happened? Every inch of Spencer ached and he felt like he'd been tossed into a dryer and set on spin. He groaned lowly as he slowly blinked his eyes open, groaning again when the light blinded him. He threw his arm up, despite the way it throbbed to do it, and used it to block out the light until he could blink his eyes enough to clear it.

The last thing Spencer remembered he'd been in the basement of their latest Unsub's house. There'd been a lot of strange symbols in the house, random things that had made the locals call in the BAU. When they'd arrived, Emily and Dave had headed to the local station while Spencer, JJ, Luke, and Tara had gone to the house to check out the home of their suspect. The locals were pretty sure the man that had lived there was the one that was killing teenage boys in town, but he had vanished, and his home had left behind some rather interesting clues.

The symbols that had been found on the bodies of his victims, plus the things drawn around them at the crime scenes, all suggested someone that was into the occult. The team discussed it on the flight over. What they'd found in the house had only backed that belief.

Spencer had been down in the basement by himself, checking over the books and other such things, when he'd found a hidden room behind a wall panel. Inside had been what was obviously the place the man chose to work his 'magic'. There'd been a scrying bowl, random ingredients, spell books, and other such items.

Despite the aching in his head, Spencer pushed through the memories. He'd been looking at the writing on the wall, done in what looked to be blood, and he'd reached out to just touch the edge of it. Just take a look. Only, he'd missed the small blade lodged in the wall – likely put there for the man to easily cut a finger and write. It'd sliced over Spencer's finger and blood had instantly welled up. Then… then Spencer had jerked his hand back, only he'd lost his balance and his hand had shot forward again, slapping on the wall right over those strange symbols, and…

Nothing.

He couldn't remember what happened next. Darkness and then, this. The aching in his body and the bright, blinding light, plus a headache that was coming close to his old migraines in intensity.

That migraine-like pain wasn't helped when he heard a few car horns blare loudly. Groaning, the young genius rolled his body, hands immediately coming up to cradle his head. Doing so brought into focus the fact that he wasn't lying on the hard floor of the basement, or the grass of the front yard, or even the kind of surface that would mean he was on a stretcher – and wasn't it just a bit pathetic that he could recognize the feel of a stretcher while barely conscious? That said something about him that he wasn't willing to address at the moment.

No, the ground he was lying on was none of those things. It was… cold…and, wet? Damp, at least. And, as he drew in a ragged breath and almost instantly started to gag, he realized that it smelled, too. Those things triggered older memories, ones that he hadn't had to use in a while, that told him clearly where he was. A place he'd ended up often enough as a kid running through the streets of Vegas while being chased by bullies.

An alley. He was lying in an alley. But how the hell had he gotten here?

Slowly, achingly, Spencer finally opened his eyes once more, careful to make sure that he wasn't going to be blinded again before he opened them the rest of the way. What he found was enough to have him going completely still.

He was right – he was in an alley. There was dumpster not far away, a bunch of trash bags, and two large buildings on either side of him, as well as a nearby street with plenty of people and traffic going past. Spencer stared at it all, stunned, as he slowly started to push himself up from where he was lying on the – oh God disgusting – ground. What was going on here? What happened? How had he gone from the Unsub's basement to… here? Wherever here was, that is.

The first logical thing that came to mind was that he'd been drugged somehow. But that didn't explain how the Unsub could've gotten him out of the house and past his entire team to bring him here. Besides, why would he simply dump Spencer in an alley? Maybe – maybe one of the things Spencer had touched had had something on it, maybe he had been drugged without realizing it, and he'd brought himself here? Though how he would've gotten past his team was still a good question. They would've noticed if there was something off about him.

The questions were all spinning around in Spencer's head and they made the pounding worse. Whatever the hell was going on here, he needed to call his team. They'd be able to come help him take care of it.

Only, when he managed to stay sitting up and balanced on one hand long enough to drop his other towards his pocket, he got yet another surprise.

There was no phone in his pocket… no gun at his hip… and were those, jeans? Spencer looked down, brow furrowed, and went completely still at what he saw.

It wasn't the dark blue jeans that had him freezing, or the filthy button up shirt he had on that definitely wasn't the one he'd been wearing earlier. What had him staring was the body underneath those clothes. The long – not long enough – thin legs that were stretched out sideways, the slender, too small wrist and hand, the arm that held none of the muscle definition that Spencer had worked hard to put there, even if there hadn't been much. When he reached up, he found that his hair was longer, loose and shaggy around his face and, God, matted with something from the ground he didn't even want to think about!

"Oh God." Spencer breathed out. The sound of his voice had him letting out another, much higher "Oh God." What was going on here? Why did he – why did he look like he was a teenager again?

The aches in his body were mostly forgotten as Spencer scrambled to brace against the wall and push up to his feet. He kept his head tilted down so that he could stare at himself as he did. It only served to stun him more. He looked like – like a teenager! But that wasn't possible! People didn't magically age down. That was something from a bad sci-fi movie! This, it had to be drugs or something like that, or a mental break. His family had a history of mental illness. This, it could be related to that. It had to be one of those things. Because there was absolutely no way that it had anything to do with the fact that he'd been in the basement of someone who seemingly practiced magic, or that he'd touched a wall of strange symbols written in blood.

Spencer fought to get his breathing back under control. One hand braced on the brick wall, he held himself very still and focused on breathing, in and out, slowly.

Panic was going to do nothing for him. Drugs, mental break, magic, it didn't matter what had caused this. What mattered was that he was standing here in a strange alley in the body of a teenager, without his gun or credentials or anything, feeling like his body had been run over by a bus, and he had no idea where here even was. The first thing he needed to do was go out to the street and find something to tell him where he was. Then… then he needed to call his team. What they'd be able to do for him, he didn't know, he just knew that this would be a lot easier to handle if they were there with him. In the back of his mind, he didn't let himself think about the team he really wanted to call, a team that didn't even exist anymore as they continued to lose more and more of their original members.

Spencer clutched tightly to his plan. It gave him something to hold on to as he started to put one foot in front of the other and make his way forward, out of the alley and out into the busy street.

Getting close to the people and cars seemed to only make his headache grow worse. Drawing his arms in, Spencer clutched tightly to himself, his skin tingling slightly from the pain. God, this was the last thing he needed! He didn't have time for a migraine. He needed to find out where he was and he needed to call his team.

The pain grew worse the closer to people that Spencer got. He wasn't surprised to see how people moved out of his way once he reached the sideway. Filthy, stumbling as he was, they probably wanted nothing to do with him, not even caring that he looked like a teenager. Any other time and he might've shaken his head over the sadness behind that thought. Right now he was just too grateful for it to care.

He didn't have to stumble far down the street before he came to what looked like a newspaper stand. That was perfect for at least finding out where he was. He ignored the pulsing headache and focused slightly bleary eyes until he found the section titled 'local'. Then he grabbed at the first paper – The Daily Bugle – and brought it up close. Surprisingly, even without his glasses he could still read it, though his headache wasn't all that fond of that plan. What he found – wasn't what he was expecting. New York. He was in New York City, which was around eight hundred and twenty-two miles from where he should have been.

The panic that Spencer had been fighting against started to rise up once more. His hands tightened in the paper and started to shake. He ignored the sound of someone shouting nearby, the jostle of people going past him, and even the headache that felt like it'd impossibly grown. Spots danced in front of his vision as he stared down at the paper. What was going on here? What happened?

As his breath started to wheeze in and out, Spencer became aware of something else, something that had him sucking in a sharp breath that almost choked him.

Around his hands there was a – a blue sort of light. Like… like electricity, crackling over and around his hands. He gasped and dropped the paper, stumbling back away from it. He crashed into people, knocked to one side and then the next, but somehow he managed to back up enough to slam his back into a wall. He ignored the shouts of people around him and brought his hands up in front of him, staring in horror at the light that was still there. In fact, it was growing.

A nearby street light suddenly exploded. Spencer felt it seconds before he heard it. When he looked up, glass from the light was falling and people were jumping back, some of them screaming, and then another exploded, and another. With each explosion, the light around Spencer's hands pulsed and that tingling on his skin grew stronger, his head pounding so badly the spots were back again and he was sure he was going to pass out.

The lights – he was causing it! He had no idea how or what the hell was going on, he just knew that the stronger his fear climbed, the more the light grew and he had to get the hell away from people, now!

Before he even realized he'd made the decision, he was running. Long legs carried him down the street. With his hands tucked protectively against his chest, he tried to shove past people, push past them. He had to get away!

Another alley came up beside him and Spencer didn't hesitate to dart inside. It got him away from people and Spencer couldn't be more grateful for it.

He ran blindly, not caring about where so long as it took him away from people, away from everything. The further from people he got, the less his head hurt, and the easier it became to think. When he eventually stopped, chest heaving and legs shaking, the blue light hadn't gone from around his hands but it wasn't as bright. Spencer held his hands in front of him and stared at the way the light swirled around them.

What was happening to him? This – this was more than just some drug induced hallucination. This was more than a mental break. Sure, he'd heard just how realistic it could all feel in those situations, but… but that just didn't seem right. This felt real. But isn't that what they all say? It felt real to them.

Nausea churned in Spencer's stomach at the thought.

As he stared down at his hands, mentally trying to will the power away, he was surprised to find that it actually responded. Little by little the light seemed to draw into his skin until it was finally completely gone. Not a trace of it was left. Spencer curled his fingers in, testing them, but the light didn't come back. Though, as he stood there he thought that he could feel a hint of it inside of him still, tingling over and under his skin. The sensation wasn't an unpleasant one. It was, however, a strange one.

Something in Spencer's head gave a weird little pulse, something that wasn't quite pain but wasn't quite normal either, and he felt a strong sensation of surprise and then a sick sort of pleasure, though he had no idea why. Instinctively, he looked up, eyes scanning for, what, he didn't quite know. Not until he found it.

Three men were making their way across the abandoned parking lot towards him. In his run, Spencer had managed to find a more rundown part of town, with buildings that hadn't seen repairs in quite a while. The perfect place, his mind told him, for gangs and criminals. And he'd run right into it, in the body of a young teenage boy. One who had intimate experience with just how dangerous that could be.

The man at the front of the trio was grinning broadly at Spencer as he strolled forward. "Well look what I found here, boys."

Shit. The uncharacteristic curse floated across Spencer's mind. This wasn't good. This was so very not good. Very carefully, Spencer took a small step back, his hands already coming out in the universal sign of peace, showing that he was unarmed. It was a habit born from being a profiler. Often, it could relax Unsubs if they assumed that he was unarmed. That mentality didn't work with bullies, though, nor men like these ones.

"I don't want trouble." Spencer said, wincing at the crack to his voice. Mentally, he dubbed this body somewhere around fourteen or fifteen, judging by size and sound. He ignored that thought, knowing it wasn't important in that moment, and focused instead on the immediate danger as he backed up another step. "I'm just passing through, that's all."

The two behind their leader laughed. The main one's grin grew. "You hear that? He doesn't want trouble, he says." He let out a laugh that made Spencer's stomach churn. His satisfaction was easy to hear in his voice, strong enough that Spencer swore he felt an echo of it inside of him, only making him feel more nauseous.

There wasn't going to be reasoning with these men. Not in this scenario. Spencer was young, alone, and small enough that he looked probably closer to twelve to them, and the way they were eyeing him made it clear that they not only figured he couldn't defend himself, they were likely going to enjoy any attempt he made. He had enough experience in these situations to know there was only one real thing for him to do here. Without giving them a chance to say another word, Spencer spun on his heel and ran.

It only took seconds for him to hear them shouting to each other and their footsteps pounding behind him as they raced to catch him. Terror gripped Spencer's insides. He knew he wasn't going to be able to outrun them. Between the pain in his body, his exhaustion from his previous panic and run, and his small size compared to them, there was no way he was going to be able to stay ahead of them. So it was no real surprise when they caught up to him in a pathetically short time.

A hand closed around Spencer's arm and yanked him so hard he almost fell. The next instant he found himself being slammed against the wall of a nearby building and the leader of the group was right there, pressing whole body against him. Spencer physically gagged as the man's body pressed into his and it became clear just how much he'd enjoyed their chase.

Lust hit him, hard and fast, stunning Spencer completely. It was like it rolled over him like a cloud, or a wave, drowning him underneath it. He knew what lust felt like. How it could be when it was so big and all-consuming that nothing else really mattered. But he'd never felt a lust like this. Never felt the dark, twisting pleasure that grew with each passing struggle he gave. When hard hands grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, and a mouth pressed against his neck, Spencer tried to summon up the energy to scream, to fight, but the haze of lust was so damn strong and he couldn't seem to breathe around it. His brain was screaming at him, telling him Get him off you! There's something wrong here, something's not right, fight back, Spencer! Fight back NOW! But he couldn't do it. The "No" he let out was low and pathetic sounding.

The man chuckled against his neck and rolled his body forward. "What was that, gorgeous?" The grip on Spencer's wrists tightened until Spencer knew they were going to bruise. "You want more? Look at you. So damn eager for this, aren't you? A pretty little whore…"

"Stop…" Spencer begged, unable to help it as his body shifted and twisted against the bigger one. He wished he could call up that energy again, use it to shock this guy or something, stop him, but his brain was too hazy.

All of a sudden the hands on his were yanking forward and Spencer stumbled, falling down to his knees as the weight holding him up was gone. Nearby he heard a strange sound and a voice saying "Now that's not a very nice way to treat people."

The lust was clearing from his head and Spencer felt horror grow as his own actions became clear. He looked up, trying to find where the man had gone, where his friends were, and he was surprised to see… his brain stalled a little. The three guys were backed away from Spencer and there was someone between them. Someone in a… a red and blue bodysuit. With a mask.

The idea that this was all some horrible hallucination became a bit more believable. He was kneeling on the hard ground, watching as someone who looked only slightly bigger than him, with the bearing and voice of a teenager, fought off three grown men with a show of acrobatics that were absolutely astounding. Spencer couldn't move, could barely even focus, especially as he felt something like fear start to crawl up his spine. The lust was completely gone now, yet these strange, foreign emotions, they didn't go away. They just changed. Fear, anger, excitement, those were pushing at his own confusion, and he could barely tell up from down. Closing his eyes, he pressed a shaking hand against his eyes and wished he could just wake up.

A hand touched his shoulder and Spencer's eyes snapped open as he immediately began to scramble backwards. He found himself pressed against the wall, wide eyed and terrified, only to realize that it wasn't the men coming back for him. It was the guy in the bodysuit. He was crouching down where Spencer had been just moments before, his hands held up in a sign of peace. "Woah, woah, it's all right, man, I'm not gonna hurt you. Totally not, I swear."

Spencer fought back a hysterical laugh. He was being reassured by some costumed guy who apparently liked red and blue a little too much. Spiders, too, judging by the big spider in the center of his chest and the web-like design patterned on the rest of him. "Get back." He croaked out. "I don't… I don't know who you are, but get back."

If there was a way for a mask to convey surprise, this kid managed it. He showed off his previous flexibility by shifting back easily without ever rising. He didn't go away, though. "You… don't know who I am?" The kid asked him, sounding surprised.

This time there wasn't any way Spencer could stop his slightly hysterical laugh. "I think I'd remember a, a weird spider-themed superhero, thanks."

The surprise he'd felt before – and he was actually feeling that, what the ever-loving hell? – morphed into something that Spencer thought was… hurt?

Another of those laughs broke free. Oh, God. God! Slumping down against the wall, Spencer let his head thump backwards. "I'm drugged." He said out loud, not even caring. "There had to be drugs of some sort on that wall. There was nothing to indicate a mental break, and I wasn't doing anything stressful. So there was likely drugs on the blade on the wall and now I'm trapped inside this ridiculous hallucination. Not only that, but I've actually managed to offend my hallucination." It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Um…" His hallucination shifted a little into this squatting pose that didn't really look like it'd be comfortable to hold for long. "If you're on something, we should totally get you to a doctor, buddy. Yeah? Yeah. So, um, why don't we get you to the doctors so you can get some help, huh? Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."

Spencer drew his knees up to his chest and folded his arms in against his waist. "No, I think I'd rather stay right here, thank you." This was all going to end soon. Drugs, those would wear off at some point, and this would all go away. "It'll wear off eventually. Whatever I was dosed with, it'll go away, and I'll be back with my team."

"Someone dosed you?"

That tone was clearly the one of someone humoring the crazy person. Spencer didn't really care. Holding on to himself, he opened his eyes again and looked over at the teenager he'd apparently imagined up as a superhero. A spider-themed superhero, at that. "Sort of." He said. What was the harm in answering his drug-induced hallucination? "I touched the wall and didn't notice the razor until it cut me. Likely, there was something on there, or something in the blood that was already on the wall that infected me when my cut hand touched it. It's the only likely explanation for all of this. I mean," He paused and let out a laugh that still sounded a hair too hysterical for his liking. "It's either that or I've somehow been magically transported to an alternate dimension where I'm twenty years younger and have superpowers."

The idea was ludicrous. Spencer had said it as a joke! A hysteria induced reaction to realizing that he was in the middle of some drug haze, had magic electrical powers, something that he was beginning to suspect might be freaking empathy, was almost raped by three thugs and then saved by a superhero in a spider-costume!

What he hadn't expected was for the spider-kid to make a low 'huh' sound, followed by "Well, it wouldn't be the strangest thing that happened around here. I'm pretty sure the Fantastic Four have dimension traveled a few times." He tilted his head and that strange feeling that Spencer was getting from him – emotions – sharpened into something else, something more focused. "Listen, ki—uh, mister, um… stuff like this, it's a bit out of my experience. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, I'm not into the whole dimension hopping business. So, yeah, I'm just gonna call in some help. Mr. Stark probably knows how to handle something like this better than I would. He's a genius. I'm sure he'll either be able to figure it out himself or get in contact with the Fantastic Four so they can figure things out…"

Drug hallucination or not, the last thing that Spencer wanted was to call more people in here. There was a voice in the back of his mind whispering that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't as fake as he thought it was, that maybe it was terrifyingly real, and if that were true the last thing he wanted was to call in some genius scientist or whoever this guy was that the kid in front of him was talking about. Thousands of comics and movies flashed through Spencer's mind. Anytime someone called in a scientist like that, the person who needed help always ended up an experiment, and the thought of that made Spencer shudder. "N-no." He stammered out, holding himself tighter. "No, I d-don't, I don't…"

Spencer's breathing began to speed up again. His panic was coming back, fueled along by the panic he was feeling from the kid in front of him, and it was growing and growing until the world started to swirl around him. He thought he heard someone saying something to him, calling out loudly, but Spencer didn't, couldn't, focus on it.

The black spots were back in his vision. He knew he was panicking, that he was having a panic attack, but he couldn't stop it, didn't care to stop it. Not even when hands were clutching at him, one hand tilting up his face, and he could hear someone telling him "…breathe! You need to breathe…!"

Blackness started to overtake Spencer's vision and he let it. As it finally crashed over him, taking the world with it, he sent up a silent prayer that the world would be back to normal when he woke up.