Nightmares- 7

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TW: death, injury, panic attack

Sharp claws dig into Peter's shoulders. He feels the bone pop out of place sickeningly.

He screams in pain and tries to pull himself out of the tight metallic grip that keeps him pinned on the ground, digging his heels into the sand. He can feel smoke filling up his lungs with each sharp inhale and his multiple broken ribs protest against his lungs.

The vulture's claws push against him harder and he feels another rib snap.

He shouts again before it goes black.

A new setting materializes and where Vulture was before, now stands Beck. Quentin fucking Beck.

"Hi Peter."

Peter barely holds himself up, wrapping his hand around his sides, wishing the throbbing would halt.

"Beck," he pants, "Please... please stop."

His smile widens. "Cute. You think I'll just... stop? Now what's the fun in that?"

"Peter?"

He darts his eyes over. May. She looks around for him until her terrified gaze finally locks on his own. She begins to run towards him and the first thing he sees is Beck's wide grin.

"May. May no-"

She makes a struggling noise before she falls to the floor, limp.

Beck disappears but Peter couldn't care less. He runs over to his aunt, frantic hands brushing hair out of her face like she does for him on a bad night.

"Oh god, oh god May."

His hand becomes red with blood from where it was resting on her stomach. "No. Nonono."

"Honey?" "Yea-" Peter clears his throat. She she can't hear him unravel. "Yeah?"

"Wha's wrong?" "Nothing. It's nothing it's all gonna be..." he feels grief-filled pressure build up in his chest as he listens to her heart slows to a stop. His ears begin to ring, but he can't tell if it's from shock or his sense screaming at him that there's a lingering presence behind him.

"This is your fault. You know that, right?"

"You killed her," Peter cried. He trembled as he gripped her cold, limp hand. He can't breathe, oh god, he can't breathe. "May."

"No," Beck murmured, as if he were sad for him. "You did."

Peter sees red. He forces himself up off the ground, the pain in his injuries suddenly gone numb. All that's left is just an excruciating amount of grief. He killed her. He killed her.

He feels as his arm swings punches over and over again, pounding into the man's face. His wicked grin never fades. Not once. Peter's hands latch around his neck and squeeze, an action he'd never planned on doing to anyone. Not ever. But something had snapped inside him. May was gone. What else did he have to loose?

As Beck's heartbeat slows, it starts to sound like something more familiar. A mechanical- powered heart. It snapped him out of his trance and he pulls his hands away like he'd touched a hot stove.

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