[Chapter] Interlude 1.0 - Chapter 1: Of New York and Superheroes

[shuufleur93]

Chapter : 1
Title : Of New York and Superheroes
Word Count : 11643
Summary: When Sam arrived in New York, he should have expected some of it, but it still took him by surprise.
Notes : Chapter 1 written for WIP Big Bang 2017, with the awesome art of Kuwlshadows on LJ, Tumblr, or AO3. In this, Garfield!Peter is in his early-mid-twenties.

Go back to the masterpost.

Their first meeting was bloody.

*

Sam was coming back to the car when he heard something coming from an alley not too far away. Frowning, he grabbed the handle of his gun tucked into his waistband. Even if there weren’t any supernatural creatures here in New York, it didn't mean there was no danger. Sam didn't want to risk someone being mugged if he could do something about it.

He walked along the wall, careful not to make any noises, and keep himself invisible. At the intersection, he leaned against the wall, bracing himself. Once he felt ready, he peered into the alley. Unfortunately, it wasn't well lit, and a lot of garbage stood in the way, creating shadows where there usually weren't. Slowly, Sam crept in the alley toward what he thought was the problem. He raised his gun, wishing he took a gun that could shoot real bullets, not just rock salt. It would hurt but not kill. Hopefully, it was nothing. Maybe it was just cats.

Something on the ground glinted, attracting Sam’s eyes. Behind the dumpster, there were red boots.

Sam aimed the gun at the dumpster. As he got closer, he saw that there was someone slouched on themselves. Sam squinted to see better, but the overall darkness made it difficult to make anything out.

Suddenly, the person moved and moaned, slumped against the wall. They seemed to be favoring their left side. Sam crept closer and frowned. They had some sort... costume? A red and blue suit that looked a bit fancier than the usual Halloween costume. Sam wanted to laugh. New York had some weird habits. True, Sam

and his brother and their father and Bobby

was pretty much out of the loop when concerning the “normal” world, but he sure as hell didn't miss the so-called superheroes and their liking to spandex. This has become ridiculous. Sam has seen people trying to imitate them, wearing the same outfit, thinking they could be and do the same. They only put themselves in danger.

Sam must have made a noise somehow because the person’s head bobbed a bit before looking up. Light reverberated on the mask (a mask, fucking hell, Sam thought, they didn't kid when they did something) and showed the big black eyes and the dark webbing on red spandex.

“Spider-Man.” Sam murmured thoughtfully.

Spider-Man (or copycat) jerked and Sam felt his gaze on him. It was a bit freaking Sam out because you could only see the big eyes.

“Spider-Man?” Sam repeated slowly, wanting to be sure.

“Hm. Hi?” A masculine voice replied, slurring a bit. “Sorry. I'll be out of your hair, but first: do you really need the gun?”

Sam squinted a little at the other man (he thought it was a man. Young man, maybe?), and concluded he couldn’t really hurt him right now. He promptly tucked his gun away and knelt. The other man was wounded. Blood seeped from a cut on his left side. Even if he was Spider-Man or a copycat, Sam wasn’t about to leave him here to bleed out.

“You need help?” Sam asked because Spider-Man could have stood up and he didn't. Sam could even hear him breathing too loudly.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful.” Spider-Man said breathless. “But I can manage.”

“You sure?”

He heard Spider-Man sigh and let his head rest on the wall behind him.

“I'm sure.”

Sam frowned and hesitated. Usually, it wasn't his problem. Since... since the Leviathans, Sam had made sure not to get involved in anything or with anyone. It worked. Sometimes. Not tonight, it seemed. Sam felt so lonely that even an injured Spider-Man copycat would be better than being alone in his motel room. Like every night since Dean's... Sam grimaced. No, he didn't like to remember the way his brother looked

resigned and anguished

at him before Roman exploded. It had been hard. Sam had nightmares about it for weeks (and still did today).

Sam closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes again, Spider-Man wasn't moving anymore.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam asked. No answer. Worry growing, he got closer to the man and put his fingers on the side of Spider-Man’s neck. Sam closed his eyes in relief when he felt a pulsing against his fingers. It was irregular but strong. Sam then inspected the side that was injured. The young man had been stabbed on the left side.

Thankfully, he had just lost consciousness. However, Sam noticed that the bleeding didn't stop. Worrying his lips, Sam took a snap decision. If this was Spider-Man, he wouldn't want to go to the hospital. And if he was human... well, Sam didn't know his chances of surviving this wound. The least he could do was to help him before calling anyone. In either case, he wasn't calling 911. He wasn't sure the guy's activities were.

Sam passed one arm under Spider-Man’s legs and the other in the middle of his back and stood. The young man was surprisingly heavy in his arms.

Sam made sure nobody saw him put Spider-Man inside his car. Once he carefully settled the man on the backseat, he went behind the wheel and drove back to the motel as quickly as possible without breaking any laws.

He didn't need cops coming to him for kidnapping a citizen, or worse, a superhero. The police have become quite overzealous since the alien invasion a few weeks ago. They were tense and reacted quickly. Sam didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of their suspicions (or guns). He wasn't even sure whether the guy would survive the trip.

Sam hadn’t been in New York when the Alien Invasion happened, so he had had trouble believing it at first. He had thought it was the same prank Orson Welles did in the late 30s. It was only when he arrived in the Big Apple that he saw it really happened. The city had still been in shambles.

Usually, Sam didn't go into big cities. Habits inherited from their father and Dean. Strangely enough monsters mostly killed or hurt people in smaller towns, some might even be considered ghost towns. There were also a lot more CCTV in big cities, and if the authorities caught him, he wasn't sure the “I'm dead” card would fly well.

Thirty minutes later, Sam arrived at the motel he was currently staying in, located in the outskirts of the city. He parked the Impala just in front of his room, which was as usual as far away as possible from the entrance to avoid prying eyes and curious clients.

Sam went around the car, took his duffel bag and wondered if he should take some guns with him, in addition to the one he had tucked in his pants. Thinking Spider-Man needed his help immediately decided him. He could get the guns afterward.

Once again, he took Spider-man in his arms, and hauled him up on his shoulder, trying to be mindful of his wound. With one hand, he kept the young man steady and with the other grabbed the keys to open the door. Sam entered the room and switched on the light. The hunter unceremoniously threw his duffel bag on the ground and closed the door with his foot.

The superhero didn’t even stir.

Sam set down Spider-Man on one of the twin beds (old habits die hard) and went to fetch towels that he soaked with warm water. He set them on one of the chairs and put it beside the bed. He retrieved the first aid kit in his duffel bag, put it on the night table. Then, he looked in the fridge and took all the bottles of alcohol he could find. On his way back to the bed, he grabbed the other chair and set it beside the bed.

The hunter opened the first aid kid and took out the scissors. His attention went back to Spider-Man who was still unconscious.

“Alright, I'm sorry in advance for that...” he said as he started to cut through the costume. Sam frowned when despite his efforts the scissors cut nothing.

“Didn't know spandex was that hard to cut, dammit,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Sam sighed and gave up after a few more unsuccessful attempts. Finally, he set the scissors back down and tried to find a way to open that damn suit. When Sam couldn’t find an opening, he sat back down and sighed.

All right, then. He needed to pat the man down. The costume was tight, sticking to the body like a second skin. The hunter wondered how he could move in that stuff. Obviously, he couldn't have shoved any phone, or even an ID in that costume. Pressing his lips together, Sam patted down the pants slightly below his waist where he felt the fabric doubled up. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see, but at the touch, it was obvious. Sam slipped his fingers under the suit with a grimace. The only thing he could do was roll up the fabric until it was well above the wound.

Sam whistled when he saw the stab wound. That guy must be the real deal; anyone human wouldn't have survived this kind of wound. Although, Spider-Man was still losing a lot a blood. Sam wasn’t sure if the guy could heal from a wound that deep without help.

Sam turned toward the kit and took a needle. He ripped open the wrapping, found some thread, and passed it through the eye of the needle. He put it down on a wet towel. With another towel, he carefully wiped off the blood seeping out from the wound. The man in the mask shuddered and whimpered. Sam made a shushing noise, a hand on his head, until he calmed down.

He was glad the superhero was unconscious, and he wanted him to stay that way if possible while he was sewing him up.

When the wound was clean enough, Sam inspected it. It was deep, but it didn't seem to have reached any major internal organs. He took the needle in one hand and a towel in the other and started sewing. It had been quite some time since he had to sew anyone, and Sam was glad that his hands were steady. It was like riding on a bicycle, Sam thought bitterly. He shook his head, reminding himself of the task at hand.

Half an hour later, Sam closed the wound and cut the thread after making a knot. He dressed the wound, took some bandages and wrapped it on the wound around the man's back. Once that was done, Sam threw the needle in the bin, closed the first aid kit, and hung the towels that weren't stained in the bathroom.

He sat on the toilets and passed a hand in his hair. He stayed there for a moment.

he was tired, so tired

He went back to the room and took the other bed covers and to cover Spider-Man. Sam settled on the empty bed with his computer. He was curious about this spider guy, and if this was really Spider-Man. Sam threw him a cursory glance and his gaze fell on his masked face. Sam mused that he could remove the mask to know who hid behind this mask. He sighed. No. Even if he was curious, he wouldn't do that to someone who didn't even know where he was.

He looked back at his computer and saw one of the files he didn't have the courage to delete.

Throat closing up, Sam gulped and passed the cursor over the name.

(Busty Asian Beauties – A long time ago, Dean had thought it was hilarious to put the file of his porn on the desktop. Now, Sam couldn't glance at it without a heartache.)

*

Sam frowned and sighed, wiggling on the bed to get in a more comfortable position. His neck, back, and arms were sore as hell and for one moment, he didn’t remember why. As reality sets in, Sam's eyelids flew open and looked at the man who was still sleeping on the other bed. The superhero was slightly snoring, head turned toward Sam.

Sam sat up with a grunt. The soreness of his limbs was worse now that he was moving, but it was also familiar and kind of comforting. It reminded him of cases with Dean.

sleeping in motels, abandoned houses, the car

If the room wasn't that silent, Sam wouldn't even have picked up the soft rustling of the sheets.

“Ah, so, you're awake. Good. That means you didn't bleed out.”

“Shit! Damn! I mean, darn it.” Spider-Man squeaked. He scrambled to sit on the bed and let another high noise when the cover fell off and showed his half naked chest. He quickly crossed his arm in an attempt to hide from Sam's gaze, then took the covers back and wrapped them around him like a cocoon.

Sam couldn't stop the smile as he saw his antics. If this was Spider-Man, he didn't seem that dangerous. He was like an awkward and embarrassed young man, Sam deduced when he saw his neck flushing.

“Hm. So. Do we know each other?” Spider-Man asked, and Sam shook his head.

“Not personally. I know you from TV, but that's all.”

“I...” Spider-Man stopped, tilted his head and suddenly straightened. “You're that guy! With the, with the gun!”

Sam saw him tensing slightly as if he was preparing to defend himself. The hunter raised his hands placatingly.

“Yeah, that's me. You were bleeding out, so I brought you here. I didn't think you'd appreciate to end up in the hospital.”

A long silence stretched between them. Sam cleared his throat. The way the superhero could be still was kind of... unnerving, unnatural. Sam almost felt like a prey under the mask's black eyes. Then, the young man opened the blankets to peer inside, made an acknowledgment noise and looked back at Sam.

“Good call,” Spider-Man simply commented. Sam smiled a bit and stood up. He tried to release the tension that accumulated because of the night he spent and work the kinks of his back. He walked to the fridge and opened the door.

“Are you a doctor?”

Sam snorted and looked at Spider-Man.

“No. Are you Spider-Man?” He replied.

“Joker. Are you a nurse?”

“Yes, you are, and no I'm not a nurse. Do I look like a nurse?” Sam asked a bit incredulous.

“Nice stereotyping, Big, Buff and Hot.”

Sam blinked and was going to say something in return, but the young man cut him off.

“Not that I meant to say that out loud. It's a bit my problem. Can't seem to shut up. Oh my god. Did you look at my face?”

Sam was overwhelmed for a few seconds by the whiplash the kid gave him. Once he recovered, Sam couldn’t stop his chuckles.

“Hey! Don't laugh at me. It's not nice to laugh at a wounded man!” Spider-Man whined, holding even more tightly the blankets.

“Sorry, sorry, I just... you're funny.”

Sam chuckled as he took out a bottle of juice. He poured the liquid into two glasses and brought them to Spider-Man.

“Want some? It's not poisoned, I promise.”

Sam couldn't help the small smile gracing his lips.

“I'm not supposed to accept gifts from strangers, you know.”

His gestures betrayed his words though. Quick as lightning, Spider-Man took the glass and drank it in one go. The young man made a satisfied sigh as he gave back the glass to Sam.

“You're thirsty.” Sam commented, amused.

“I should go.” Spider-Man said suddenly.

Sam nodded and drank slowly his own juice. Spider-Man stared at him as if he was waiting for something.

“Do you need help?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

“No thanks.”

Sam though he saw a smile through the mask, but he wasn’t sure.

“So, yeah, it’s been a pleasure and all, but…” Spider-Man stood, still clutching at the blanket. “I should go… oh.”

Unsteady on his feet, Spider-Man started to fall. Sam jumped forward to stop his fall but instead got his chest full of webbing.

A beat passed before Spider-Man cleared his throat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Peter straightened and feebly scratched at the webbing. Obviously, that stuff was stuck. Sam blinked several times, various thoughts flying through his head such as he’s not that smaller than me, and he smells like leather, and he’s warm. Sam shook his head to stop thinking that. That was creepy.

“I think you’re gonna have to throw that. I’m sorry again.” The young man did seem put out.

“Don’t worry, I have a dozen of shirts like this.” Sam replied in a second state, still longing for that warmth he could feel. It seemed it has been quite some time since he had any closeness with other people.

“Oh, great. I feel much better now.” Spider-Man said dryly. “Now that I know you won’t be bereft of flannel shirts, I should take my leave…” He stopped for a bit and looked down at his uniform. Sam followed his gaze to the faint markings of his abdominals and felt his cheeks burn a little, so he looked up, hoping Spider-Man didn’t notice.

“I look like I just made a crop top out of my suit. People will talk. My reputation will take a hit. This is awesome. Maybe I can convince Cap to do the same…”

Spider-Man looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

“So, yeah, see you around Big, Buff and Hot.”

Sam huffed as Spider-Man saluted him and got out the motel room.

*

After Sam’s encounter with Spider-Man, the ex-hunter went back to his routine. He’d wake up at 6, go for a run to release a bit of that pent-up energy he had since he stopped hunting, read the newspapers for any supernatural occurrences, sigh with relief when there were none or when another hunter took care of it. Then, he’d check his phone to see if he received any calls. If he had, he’d go to the person’s home, repair what needed to be repaired and go back to the motel.

Today, a regular called him. Mrs. Reynolds was an old lady, living alone in Brooklyn. Her husband died from a heart attack a couple of years ago. Her children lived two hours away, so they couldn’t come as often as before. Sam was her handyman. He’d come around and fix various things in her home; from appliances to plumbing.

He liked her. She was nice to him, and she didn’t mind his silence or his secrets.

“Here you go, Mrs. Reynolds, it’s all new, just for you.”

Sam grunted when he got out of under the sink after he screwed the pipe back on.

“Thank you so much, Sam,” the old lady said with a grateful smile.

The hunter returned the smile and tried to rub a bit of dark traces on his hands with a cloth.

“The pipe was just clogged, so this wasn’t anything serious.”

“I’m sure. But I would have never done it without you.” she said before making an “ah” sound and disappearing in the corridor. Sam stood and tidied up the sink. He gathered his things and looked around one last time to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

Mrs. Reynolds came back just a few seconds later with money in her hand. As usual, Sam wanted to protest because she was always generous, but not today. He had been a bit tight on money lately.

Sam thanked Mrs. Reynolds and left her apartment. Once outside the building, he started to walk toward the Impala he parked not far away. His eyes flickered to an alien-size hole in an abandoned building. Slowly, the city was being rebuild as her old self with a few minor details.

With a rueful smile, Sam remembered how surreal it felt at the time, watching the aliens

aliens! Dean would just lose his mind if he was- were here

- the Chitauris coming down on New York, and the Avengers fighting with all their powers.

Before the invasion, before Sam decided to leave small and quiet towns, he had been drifting, going from town to town, never settling. Nothing could hold him down. He didn’t want to stay more than a few days, a week at most. Then, he’d felt that restless feeling, the memories brushing at the back of his mind, obscuring his vision, his life, ready to take over.

When Roman exploded, black goo flying everywhere, Sam watched his brother with incredulity.

When a bright light grew around Dean, Sam closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, and saw the empty space, Sam’s heart stopped.

When Dean disappeared, Sam’s world crumbled under his feet.

When the Alien Invasion started, Sam had stopped and watched the destruction like everyone else in the world. He heard the cries, saw the hurt through the TV’s sound system. At that moment, something changed. Something akin to adrenaline flowed in Sam’s veins. And then, the Avengers had arrived and saved the day.

Since Roman’s death, the ex-hunter had been trying to find his footing in a civilian life. He didn’t want to go back to hunting, he couldn’t. But just being a spectator to the invasion and seeing the heroes win sparked a feeling he thought lost forever. Hearing the cheers and the criticisms, seeing the team, it meant something to Sam.

He realized that it wasn’t hunting but helping people that made him feel alive.

So, Sam left small towns for New York, left overflowing memories to create new ones - hopefully better ones, left numbness for realization. He wanted to see aliens, and giant lizards and crazy scientists. He didn’t really know why he wanted to go so badly. He didn’t want to fight anymore. Not really. He left hunting for a reason. But he wanted to help. He wasn’t going to do the same as the superheroes. They were adored and hated by the public, but good people nonetheless.

Sam always thought that it would be easier if people knew about hunters. But after living in New York for several weeks, after seeing how things happen, how people react to otherworldly and very earthly threats wasn’t pretty. These heroes did their best to protect them from aliens, and it didn’t seem enough. After knowing all that, Sam was glad they could hunt almost completely under the radar. Money had always been tight but at least they had the freedom to do what was necessary.

Sam arrived at the motel and went to his room. He threw the keys on the counter and flopped on the bed. He looked at the time and checked his phone again. No other calls. He had the rest of the day for himself. His gaze fell on the bin and the bloody bandages, reminding him of Spider-Man.

Granted, Spider-Man intrigued him. He was a superhero too, but he was different. Sam noticed it after their first encounter. He wasn’t as popular, especially not for the Daily Bugle which seemed to unnecessarily hate on the spider. He was considered as the superhero for ordinary people, although he also took care of big threats like aliens, and lizards. Seeing the Avengers made Sam almost wistful. He wished he could have had something like that with Dean. Support, means. Yet, he was sure it would never have worked. Not with the creatures they dealt with. Aliens were the stuff of the future. The supernatural was the stuff of nightmares.

Shaking his head, Sam admonished himself. He didn’t need to think about that. He left that life months ago. He should be focused on the present. There was nothing left for him in the past.

Sam went about his day as usual. Since this was a slow day, Sam had nothing planned. While waiting for a call for work, he switched on his computer and checked the news. The first few websites weren’t interesting enough, so Sam flipped through news articles more boring each minute before changing website.

He clicked on the Superhero Lookout website which, like its name implied, kept a close watch on superheroes in New York. It was fan-based and involved a lot of butt pictures. Sam didn’t usually visit those sort of websites, but he found himself more… curious about it and a bit more indulgent.

The latest article though caught his attention: apparently, Spider-Man was battling with a creature which looked too much like a werewolf. Sweat prickled on Sam’s neck. There it was, the anticipation. There was also a video on the page, and Sam couldn’t resist clicking on play. When the video finally played, sound burst out of his speakers with almost saturated: screams, cheers and broken glass. Spider-Man was shown narrowly avoiding a swipe from the werewolf before being hit and sent flying across the road. There wasn’t any other Avengers involved.

Sam wasn’t a hunter anymore, but he couldn’t live with himself if he let the superhero fight something he didn’t know on his own. He could help. He had the silver bullets and the guns. He could help.

Decided, Sam stood, closing the computer and started to get ready. On his way out, he slipped a magazine full of silver bullets inside his duffel bag.

Going into town was difficult. Police cars blocked the main roads to Midtown. Paramedics and firefighters were also parked a few miles behind. People were herded farther by cops on foot. Sam might have even seen some military guys in the crowd. He also noticed a few snipers positioned on the buildings nearest to the fight. Sam parked in a narrow street when he realized he couldn’t go farther without being arrested or raising suspicions.

Sam took his gun and the silver bullets. When he got out of the car, what struck him the most was the silence. He couldn’t hear the crowd and wasn’t sure whether the fight was still going on. Suddenly, a crash; it sounded like metal being crushed a hundred times, and then a cry; Spider-Man, a few beats of silence, a howl transforming into a growl and Sam was running as fast as he could.

He knew that sound. He knew what was going to happen in the next few seconds. The werewolf was going to rip Spider-Man’s throat.

Sam almost faced cops who were on coming towards him. He turned right at the last moment. He knew Spider-Man wasn’t that far away. He entered an evacuated building and ran up the stairs four by four. He stopped at one floor and smash open the apartment door. He stopped at one of the windows and was satisfied to it was angled toward the fighting grounds. He wasn’t a sniper, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to shoot from a distance. Sam winced at the odds. Yeah, he wasn’t as reassured as he’d liked to be.

Between the time Sam walked up the stairs, Spider-Man and the werewolf were fighting again.

The superhero swung low, his feet almost touching the ground, full of remains of a brick wall. The werewolf watched him carefully, its arms loose, relaxed. Sam took a chair, opened the window and sat down. He took his gun and inserted the magazine while watching Spider-Man fly over the creature before twisting around and shooting webbing at it. For a moment, the werewolf was imprisoned, arms crossed over his body.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Sam watched with a slight smile as the superhero darted from left to right to completely envelop the creature with his web. Finally, Spider-Man fell back on his feet slightly kneeling to cushion his fall. He straightened and walked slowly to the creature which was now lying on the ground. It didn’t move when Spider-Man hovered over it.

Suddenly, faster than Sam’s eyes could see, the werewolf broke loose of the webbing and lunged at Spider-Man. It grabbed the hero’s throat and slammed him against the wall across the street. The wall caved in under the strength of the hit. Sam stood, took aim at the back of the werewolf’s head and breathed. The werewolf let Spider-Man go, the young man crumbled to the ground. Sam gritted his teeth, his finger barely touching the trigger. If the superhero didn’t get up soon, Sam wouldn’t hesitate.

The werewolf turned his snout in the air and sniffed. Its whole body stiffened, then turned around. Sam lowered his weapon, surprised. Its piercing eyes were now focused on Sam. The ex-hunter frowned and took a step back. At the same moment, Spider-Man jumped and struck a metal bar through the werewolf’s body with a cry. It howled, twisting around and slashed at Spider-man, sending him flying back into the wall.

Sam fired three quick shots. He couldn’t stay long so as soon as he saw the werewolf wasn’t moving on the ground, Sam left the apartment. He looked back guiltily at the destroyed door and promised himself he’d go back to fix it, free of charge.

On the streets, Sam went back to the Impala and pulled up in one of the of the busiest roads.

Cops were already removing roadblocks.

Something red flashed in Sam’s rear-view mirror and he looked up just in time to see Spider-Man swinging more or less gracefully between buildings.

Sam let a full-fledged smile blossom on his lips.

*

The following days, Sam stayed on the lookout for more werewolves or any other supernatural creatures. He also started to watch more closely Spider-Man’s appearances. What the hero did impressed him. To Sam, every superhero was spectacular (he wasn’t sure he could pull off a suit like they do), but Spider-Man had something else. He was less imposing, less threatening than the other superheroes. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

When he fought, oh boy, it was a pleasure to watch. He had such grace in the air, and he was always trying not to hurt people, even criminals. He usually succeeded in arresting the villain of the week.

Weirdly enough, Sam felt better knowing the young man was actually the superhero, and that he was great at that. Now, their first encounter almost felt like fluke. Clearly, Spider-Man was more than capable of taking care of himself.

For a while, it worked like that: Spider-Man saved the day, and Sam watched him do it between jobs. If Sam was nearby, he’d sometimes lend a hand, but he never stayed long enough for Spider-Man to find out who had been helping him. He almost felt like the superhero’s guardian angel. Sam made a face. Maybe not like an angel.

Reasonably, Sam knew that his thing wouldn’t go unnoticed ultimately. After all, he was shadowing Spider-Man who had a sixth sense about what was happening around him. The thing was the ex-hunter hadn’t planned on was a doombot attack.

Doombots, as in robots created by Doom, some crazy scientist with a cape and a creepy mask. Sometimes, Sam wondered if he would stop being surprised. Probably not, he thought almost laughing uncontrollably.

Demons, he could deal. Angels, werewolves, witches, ghosts, he could deal. But freaking robots? Dean would—

Sam sucked a breath at the pang he felt. Yeah. Dean would have loved it, he mused sadly.

Maybe not if he were in his brother’s shoes right now. He was currently trying to avoid doombot guts and falling glass and debris, while also shepherding people to a relative safety. Sam looked for Spider-Man, but the arachnid superhero was nowhere to be found.

As chaos rained down on New York streets, the Avengers were there to protect them and fight the bots. Sam felt breathless watching the superheroes working flawlessly as a team.

Suddenly, a lamppost cracked under Iron Man’s suit after a doombot threw him violently. The fight left, but the lamppost body groaned slowly, and started to fold in on itself. Someone on his right shouted. Sam saw two children running toward them. They were going to cross path with the falling lamppost. He got out of the makeshift shelter, but before he could run to them, a web stuck to the lamppost, allowing the children to pass safely underneath.

Spider-Man landed briefly and shot a web to his right, already taking off.

When Sam turned to see where the children were, he found them in the arms of adults, probably their parents. Swallowing, the ex-hunter took a step back and watched the fight again. This was all he could do. Guns didn’t work on the bots, they weren’t possessed, they weren’t technically alive. Sam couldn’t do anything against them.

Fifteen minutes later, the fight was finally winding down. There weren’t much doombots left and some superheroes already went back to their base. A few stayed to help the authorities in the cleanup. They always did it, it was never the same superheroes, but they always made a point to help removing the biggest debris off the streets.

Sam couldn’t see Spider-Man anymore, so he left the shelter. Treading carefully between holes, pieces of wall and roofs, he made his way across the street. With all the chaos, smoke and dust, it was hard to see anything of the building. Squinting, the ex-hunter walked closer. There was a hole in the building, dark and filled with dust. A whine grabbed Sam’s attention. It sounded like a baby, a very sick baby. Something moved in his peripheral and Sam gripped his gun. The doombot sprung from behind a half-destroyed desk, whining and whirring. His hand glowed white, powering up.

Sam dodged a second too late. The doombot’s laser clipped him in the leg, sending him flying back into the street. He tried to cushion his fall, and grunted when he brutally hit the pavement, skidding a few meters. His leg throbbed with pain. He was pretty sure he dislocated his shoulder during his fall. His skin hurt from scratches.

He heard the sound of jets and looked up to see the doombot above him, arm charging up again. Sam gritted his teeth as he realized he lost his gun in the meantime. He couldn’t outrun the bot and he was sure he couldn’t survive if he was shot.

He groped around him to find a rock, a pipe, something to bash the bot with. He found a piece of cement, small enough to throw. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, but he had to try. In a desperate attempt, Sam stood as quickly as possible, grimacing in pain, and ran to the doombot. At the same time, the bot’s weapon stopped whining. He was going to get shot in a second.

Hey brother,

Sam let a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the doombot. He wouldn’t stop now.

I think this is it.

Suddenly, something white flew past him and into the bot’s arm, cloaking the weapon. In a split second, Sam dodged and jumped when he saw it was a web. The weapon fired, made a choking sound and exploded from within. Sam protected himself as bits and pieces of the doombot rained on his head.

Heart racing, the hunter turned back, and watched as Spider-Man swung around the doombot restraining him with his web.

Once he was finished, Spider-Man came up to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” The superhero sing sang.

“Yeah, wrong time, wrong place, right?”

Chuckling, the hero looked down at Sam’s leg.

“Right, quote Die Hard at me as an attempt to hide the fact this is not the first time you’re in the vicinity.”

Spider-man’s mask raised an eyebrow and Sam felt his cheeks flush of embarrassment. He opened his mouth to deny whatever Spider-Man was implying

the truth

But the superhero waved his hand in the air in a dismissive way. Clearly, he didn’t mind Sam’s actions.

“You should take care of it,” he said, pointing at Sam’s wound.

“I will.”

“Be safe, Sam.”

Spider-Man winked and raised his hand.

“Wait!” Sam called, a hand stretched before him.

Spider-Man looked back at him and lowered his arm. He tilted his head, expectant and curious. Sam didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure why he called him. The hunter gulped. Really, now, are you chickening out Sam, said a voice painfully familiar to Dean’s.

Sam closed his eyes. His leg was throbbing fiercely.

“Sam? Are you ok?”

He heard more than he saw Spider-Man walking.

Sure, he wanted to say. He opened his mouth, his vision blurred.

Shit, he thought as he fell.

The next time he woke up, he was in his motel, his leg bandaged, and the pain almost a faraway memory.

He sat down and took the slip of paper on he saw on the nightstand.

Feel better Sam.

I’d hate to think that my favorite stalker is hurting.

Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Sam smiled, feeling weirdly touched by the words. He pocketed the slip of paper and went back to sleep.

*

It almost felt like Sam had finally someone to call friend here. He didn’t feel so lonely anymore. He didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore.

*

“Is this actually part of your job description?” Sam asked another day when he stumbled upon Spider-Man lying down in an alley. This time, the hero was conscious, his chest rose up and down at regular intervals.

“What?” the young man said out-of-breath. “Getting hurt? Sure, it happens. Getting upped by some wannabe villains? Always.”

He groaned as he sat up. Sam went to help him.

“Thanks. This is wholly embarrassing, but thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Spider-Man turned his head toward him and observed him. Or at least, Sam felt observed.

“Why are you here? Ah.” Spider-Man paused. “I forgot you were my stalker for a second.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“I was on my way to eat something. I just happen to find you. And no, I’m not… stalking you.”

Not for the usual reasons, at least.

“Though, I’m sure you’re not against it.”

Spider-Man shrugged, saying nothing. Sam smiled. Seeing the superhero was relatively fine, he stood.

“So, wait, you’re going to eat in Manhattan? That’s like… way too expensive.” Spider-Man blurted out.

“I was working nearby,” Sam defended himself even though he didn’t know why.

“Oh. What kind of job? What do you do, Mr. Hunk when you’re not stalking me?”

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. The young man stood as well, groaning when he stretched to his full height.

“I feel old.” the young man whined.

“You don’t sound old.”

“How do you know? Oh,” he said after a beat, “That’s your job. Stalking me.”

Sam swore he saw Spider-Man’s eyes squint. He shook his head, thinking he might just be tired.

“Yeah, you’re right, absolutely. I’m stalking you. Now that I know you’re OK, I’m just going back home. Bye, Spider-Man.”

He started to turn when the superhero called out to him.

“What about dinner?”

Sam half-smiled, half bit his lip. He was secretly pleased the young man wanted to spend some time with him. He had been sure he was the only one who felt like this. But maybe not.

Sam turned back, and said cheekily, “Are you asking me out Mr. Spider?”

Spider-Man stilled as if caught off guard. Sam was afraid he went a bit too far, but then the young man jumped toward him and stuck to the wall near Sam, leaning into him head upside down. He seemed to feel better now.

“Why, do you want it to be a date?”

Sam froze, swallowing. He smiled awkwardly and blushed when Spider-Man cocked his head, dark eyes watching him intently.

“But I wouldn’t say no to food.” He said to try and save the conversation.

Spider-Man crawled back on the ground and stood in front of Sam. His familiar smell struck Sam.

leather, peppermint

It made Sam wistful for a moment, reminding him of so many memories spent with his brother in the Impala.

“Alright. I’m game. Let’s go. Think you can follow me? I can carry you…”

“Yeah,” Sam interrupted, “I can follow you by foot, don’t worry.”

Chuckling, Spider-Man lifted his arm and shot a web, whooping as he launched himself into the air. Sam looked at him go and started to walk after him. Spider-Man led him to a diner. Before going in, he dragged Sam into an alley to tell him what to order before taking off. Sam guessed he didn’t want people to see him with him. The hunter understood even though it stung a little.

Sam ordered the food and went back to his motel room where Spider-Man was waiting for him. He put his key in the door, he rolled his eyes when he realized it was already opened. Maybe he should talk about privacy with Spider-Man.

The superhero was lounging spread-eagled on his bed and Sam felt a rush of contentment seeing this. Without a word, he put dinner on the table. Spider-Man appeared silently by his side and started to rummage through the bags.

“Come on, let’s sit down. Be a civilized person, please.” Sam said tongue in cheek.

“Didn’t you know? I’m not civilized, I’m a smart-mouthed superhero with spider powers and sass.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know it was a power.”

Spider-Man nodded.

“It’s a deadly weapon. Criminals have trembled because of my sass.”

Sam chuckled.

“Come on, dig in. Or I’ll eat everything.”

Spider-Man feigned a gasp and peel up the bottom of his mask just beneath his nose. Sam couldn’t help but stare at the visible part of his face: his chin, his cheeks, his lips.

“What? I got something in my teeth?” The young man asked with a quirk of his lips.

Sam blinked and shook his head.

“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.” The ex-hunter answered with a slight smile.

And inappropriate ones at that!

Spider-Man threw him a cocky smile before wolfing down the food in front of him. Sam could only watch in awe at the quantity the young man inhaled in a few minutes.

“Are you eating this?” Spider-Man asked still chewing. Sam looked at his hamburger, ready to protest, but he looked back at the young hero, his shoulders were slouched and his head low.

He must be exhausted.

“Sure, you can have it.”

Spider-Man hesitated when Sam pushed the burger towards him.

“Are you sure?”

Sam smiled gently, slightly amused.

“Go on. It seems you need it more than me. I’ll order more.”

The hero didn’t waste any more time and mumbled a “thanks” between bites.

Sam huffed and called to order pizza. Many pizzas.

*

Spider-Man started to hang out with Sam when he wasn’t battling villains, helping the Avengers or doing his day job, which Sam didn’t know about.

Usually, the superhero would call Sam to ask him what he was doing. If the ex-hunter was free, he’d swing by. They’d eat, maybe watch a movie. All in all, everything was going great. Sam felt… better. He still dreamt of his last confrontation with Roman, but it was less oppressing. With time came a sort of acceptance.

Spider-Man helped a lot. He never judged, always used his sarcasm and humor to lighten the mood, and sincerely listened. Not that Sam told him much about his life. Just enough to satiate the young man’s curiosity but not enough to send Sam to prison.

It went on for a few weeks. Sam knew he was getting attached, knew somehow New York became a shelter. Strangely enough, he felt safe in the Big Apple and he was happy, actually happy.

For the first time in a long time,

Since Stanford maybe, or before that

he felt at peace.

*

One day, Spider-Man came by with a cake and candies, saying there had been a party and he couldn’t eat all that on his own. Sam was pretty sure it was a lie. He’d seen him gulp pounds of food just in under a few minutes. The thought was nice and warmed Sam to the core. He welcomed him without questions.

Sam took out glasses, spoons, plates and some OJ while Spider-Man put the cake and the candies on the table. Once they were settled, Spider-Man didn’t wait to dig in as usual. At that moment, Sam didn't know what took over him. One moment, he was watching the young hero roll up his mask over his mouth to eat the cake, and the next, the hunter grabbed his face and kissed him square on the mouth.

Consciously, Sam knew it was bad. Kissing Spider-Man?

What the fuck, Sammy, said Dean’s voice in his mind. Warn a guy maybe.

Spider-Man stiffened, seemingly surprised. Sam knew the man behind the mask was far stronger than he looked so he was relieved when he didn’t punch in the face. After a few seconds, Sam broke the chaste kiss and thought appropriate to blush.

(Yeah first time for everything, Dean would have mocked him)

He couldn't see Spider-Man's expression apart from his slack mouth that Sam still wanted to kiss. Again and again and again. The hunter passed his tongue on his lips. They felt dry.

"Sam..." Spider-Man started to say far too serious. "You ruined my cake. Now I can't eat my cake."

The hero scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam blinked and looked down to see the cake splattered on the carpet, bits of cream and cooked dough everywhere.

"Hm. Sorry?" Sam replied, uncertain.

"You better be. You have a debt. You must buy me another cake. That I want to eat. OK? No sudden kiss that throw it on the ground."

"OK. What about... the kiss?" Sam asked after clearing his throat. He was still a bit embarrassed by his outburst.

The young hero stilled and looked at him.

"Well..." he mused, his tone shy. "It wasn't bad." He shrugged, palms upward to show his indecision.

"What? It wasn't bad? It just wasn't bad?"

"Well, you know. You can't be good at everything. Sometimes, you're... average." Spider-Man continued. Another shrug.

Somewhere in his mind, Sam knew this was a bait. He narrowed his eyes and studied the superhero closely. The other man was pretending to look at his nails, whistling a tune. Sam chuckled, and he saw Spider-Man give him a discreet smile before taking the conversation to another subject.

Sam guessed he tried his luck, and Spider-Man wasn’t reciprocating. It was fine, because he knew the young man wouldn’t shun him for it.

Everything went to normal. At least, as normal as a Winchester knowing Spider-Man could be.

*

But something had to give, right?

*

Sam locked his room and went to the Impala, keys tinting in his hand. Just as he came up to the car, he stopped in his tracks.

“Hey?” Sam said, almost like a question. Spider-Man was slumped against the car, head resting on the hood.

“Hey back.” The superhero answered, not moving an inch. Sam relaxed knowing he was at least conscious. The hunter walked and knelt silently beside him. Spider-Man raised a little his arms and Sam could see the deep gash on his bicep.

“Do you still play nurse?” the hero asked tiredly but with a smile. Sam eyed him worriedly.

“Are you OK?”

“Ha…” Spider-Man laughed weakly. “’Tis just a scratch.” He shrugged halfheartedly.

Tired and in a bad mood, Sam sighed.

“If it’s just a scratch, why do you come to me?” Sam asked, a bit cold despite himself. Apparently, the hero perceived it as well. He tensed, looking at Sam from below, assessing him, analyzing whether he was a threat or not.

“I just…” the hunter started. He knew he made a mistake when Spider-Man used the car as a crutch to stand.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

The superhero started to walk away, and Sam couldn’t let him go like that, thinking he wasn’t welcome. Maybe Sam took his rejection worse than he thought?

“Wait… please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Shoulders hunched, the young man stopped nevertheless.

“I’m just wondering why you’re coming to me. I thought the Avengers had their own Med bay? Or something similar?”

Silence stretched, and Sam worried he offended the hero in some way.

Finally, Spider-Man said, “They do. But they don’t know my identity and I’d rather keep it that way.”

He turned around to face Sam.

“Well,” he continued, “Mr. Stark knows who I am, only because he personally recruited me for the Avengers.”

He made a ‘whatever’ gesture.

“OK.” Sam replied simply. Spider-Man stared before walking to Sam’s motel room as if they had just made a tacit agreement. He waited patiently until Sam huffed and let him enter.

“Can I ask you something?” the hunter asked cautiously.

The hero nodded, letting himself fall on Sam’s bed.

“Why don’t you want them to know? You don’t trust them?”

Spider-Man sighed.

“Well, I was young when I became Spider-Man, so it was only logical that I hid my identity. Afterward…”

The young man paused, shrugging with his good arm.

“I guess, it became a habit. Now, it’s mostly for protection. Mine and the people I love.”

Sam felt a prickling on his neck as the hero seemed to stare at him.

“And, well,” Spider-Man continued, now watching the ceiling. “I have enough of Mr. Stark knowing my family, where I live and nagging me whenever he wants.”

At that moment, Sam felt a surge of jealousy toward Tony Stark. It was stupid, but Sam wished he could see Spider-Man, wished he could visit him, talk to him without a mask hiding his face. Maybe hug him and—

Sam interrupted his own trail of thoughts. He wasn’t ready to delve into that yet.

“What about me?” Sam blurted out, blushing slightly. He didn’t mean to say that. And apparently, he took Spider-Man by surprise.

The young man froze but didn’t answer.

“You trust me enough to help you.” The hunter continued.

Spider-Man sighed, and looked at Sam. Even without seeing his face, Sam felt his disappointment, resignation and wariness.

“Sam…”

“No, it’s fine. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Sam waved in the air, ending the conversation. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed too. He’d thought after all this time… Sam had had Spider-Man’s life in his hands several times these last few weeks.

Four months since Dean’s –

But it wasn’t enough, apparently.

Spider-Man sighed.

“I should go.”

“Spider-Man…”

“No, Sam, you’re right. It’s not fair to you. I’ll… go.”

The young hero stood and with a wave left Sam alone in the room. Sam pinched his nose and sat down in a chair.

Dammit, he fucked up.

*

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as the saying goes.

Sam wished it wouldn’t.

*

In the following days, Spider-Man didn’t text him or pay him a visit. Sam wasn’t worried because he was still watching out for (stalking) the superhero. But still. He felt bad for what happened, and when he tried to talk to the superhero, the young man clearly avoided him. After the fourth time of trying to get him alone, Sam relented a bit. He thought maybe if he gave a little more space to Spider-Man, the young man would come back and talk to him.

He was hoping it wouldn’t be too long, but days passed and there were no signs from Spider-Man. Sam resigned himself and stopped trying to contact the young hero. And wasn’t that sad that a grown man like Sam, a hunter, could feel so bummed out by the fact that a superhero didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

Maybe it was the fact that Spider-Man was the only person he could call friend here in New York. Maybe it was the fact that even though months had passed, Sam still keenly felt Dean’s absence when Spider-Man wasn’t here to soothe it out. Maybe it was the fact he acted more recklessly than before, knowing that Spider-Man might not even be there to save him.

*

“Hello?”

“Sam Winchester?”

“Who is this?”

“Name’s Amanda, and I need your help.”

“…”

“Please. My partner— my partner died, Garth told me to call you.”

“A hunt?”

“Yes, a Wendigo.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Please, you’re the closest.”

“Where?”

“Wawayanda State Park”

“I’ll be there in two hours.”

“Thank you.”

*

He told Amanda to go home, to bury her partner. He could deal with the Wendigo. This wasn’t the first time.

How wrong was he.

He imagined what would Dean and their father say.

A seasoned hunter like you getting jumped? Sam, I thought I taught you better.

It started as usual. Sam parked the car near the park’s entrance, took a small handgun filled with silver bullets and started his search. The Wendigo shouldn’t be out during the day. The ex-hunter went to the area Amanda talked about; he found blood, and torn clothes on the ground. Sam closed briefly his eyes, his thoughts going to Amanda and her partner.

Walking around a little, he found the probable nest of the Wendigo, which was currently empty. Unusual. He didn’t find any clues as to where it might be at the time. Maybe Amanda or her partner wounded the creature and it wasn’t strong enough to move. If that was the case, it would make Sam’s job a lot easier.

Since he couldn’t find any other trail of the creature, Sam decided to go back to the motel to take what he needed; a shotgun, silver bullets, and the ingredients to make a cocktail Molotov. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use the cocktail. The weather was quite dry, and Sam wasn’t keen on setting the forest on fire. As soon as he had everything, he drove back to the park as the sun was coming down.

Perfect, he thought, Just in time for the showdown. He was near the park when something flew past him and almost toppled him over. Sam slammed on the brakes, trying to control the car’s trajectory to avoid a crash. When the car stopped, Sam looked around him, but the thing that crossed his path had disappeared. Or was playing hide and seek. Cautiously, Sam parked the car farther away from the road and got out. He went to the trunk and opened it to grab the shotgun.

Twenty minutes later, Sam found himself leaning behind a tree, panting and cradling his arm. It might be dislocated or broken, he couldn’t tell, but it sure felt like his arm was on fire. He distinctly heard a crack when the beast grabbed him to drag him through the dirt, leaves and twigs. Sam had lost the shotgun, so he used the small knife stashed inside his vest to stab the Wendigo. It howled, tightening its grip before letting him go.

Without the Wendigo’s speed, Sam suddenly slowed down and skidded on the ground. He protected his head, hoping he wouldn’t hit a tree too hard. When he stopped, he looked up at the sky he could see between the trees. Adrenaline beating down his temples, Sam got up and hid behind a tree to get his breath back. He inhaled and exhaled a few times to calm down and looked around. The wendigo was nowhere to be seen.

At a throb of pain more painful than the others, Sam looked at his right arm and saw the deep gashes the wendigo left and how limp half his forearm was.

Yep, definitely broken.

He heard leaves rustling not far from him. Heart beating a little faster, Sam tried to find his shotgun. He found it a few feet away, under a bush.

Just in time it seemed.

When the ex-hunter turned back, the Wendigo was running toward him. Awkwardly, Sam gripped the shotgun with his left arm, but the Wendigo was too fast, it was going to kill Sam, it was ov—

White strings hit the tree in rapid succession beside Sam, blocking successfully the way. The Wendigo stopped abruptly, but it had been too fast. It crashed against the web, bounced a little, and stayed stuck. Sam started to smile. The beast looked at him growling and snarling.

Yeah, he wasn’t alone anymore. He got a better grip on his shotgun and aimed at the creature's head.

Baring its teeth, the Wendigo tried to get away from the restraints. Sam didn’t waste any more time. He shot the creature right between the eyes. The Wendigo howled before slumping on the web, dead.

Spider-Man landed softly on the soil a few feet behind Sam. He didn’t walk closer, he kept his distance. Disappointed and relieved and happy, Sam turned around. The superhero was watching him, with his damn mask hiding what he was thinking. Sometimes, Sam hated his mask, so much.

“What was that?” Spider-Man asked finally, voice tight. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth, as if he was stopping himself from shouting.

Adrenaline decreasing, Sam grimaced as his right arm started to pulse with almost an unbearable pain.

“That's... that's a Wendigo.” Sam replied, words hashed out.

The superhero looked at the body for a moment before going back to Sam. He seemed to want to say something, but the young hero stopped himself.

“That’s… I wasn’t sure you knew how to fire a gun.” Spider-Man said blankly.

“Well, I guess I'm full of surprises,” Sam replied, smiling self-deprecatingly.

The hero sighed, shoulders slouching a bit.

“Sam…”

Spider-Man passed his hands on his mask, and huffed, frustrated. When he looked up, he suddenly froze.

“Spider-Man?”

“It’s human. He’s a man.”

“What?” the ex-hunter said, not following his thoughts process.

The young hero looked at Sam, chilling the ex-hunter. He felt wary of the young man. Spider-Man was tense, threatening, ready to attack as if Sam was the enemy.

“You killed a man, Sam. You shot someone in the head.”

Sam frowned, and licked his lips, trying to find something to say. Anything that wouldn’t alienate Spider-Man.

“He was a Wendigo. He killed people. He was going to kill again, and again, and again. I put an end to it, that’s all.”

Spider-Man scoffed meanly.

“So… you’re an expert now? You knew he was doomed? Sam, you killed a man! And you smiled,” the young hero shouted suddenly, voice cracking at the end. “You smiled when you killed him. I…”

Spider-Man closed his mouth and shook his head.

“Spider-Man.”

The young man raised a hand, silencing him.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses. This is…” He looked at Sam, and he felt Spider-Man’s disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He messed up. Again. Just as usual.

“Look… I’m glad you're fine. So I’m just gonna leave it to it, yeah?”

“Spider-Man!” Sam called as the hero ran in the opposite direction.

With a sigh, Sam turned to the dead Wendigo, now a dead man, and muttered, “thanks for ruining that.”

He sighed and walked to the dead body. He needed to burn it before anyone came sniffing around. It was slow going with only one functional arm.

*

Weeks passed since that fateful day, and Sam hadn’t talked to Spider-Man since then. The ex-hunter spent the 4^th of July alone in his motel, going through news articles about Spider-Man. He still tried to help the young hero whenever he could, but with a broken arm, and Spider-Man actively avoiding him, he couldn’t do a lot. Although it was breaking Sam’s heart, it was better than not being able to help Spider-Man at all.

He thought he might try to corner the superhero and force him to talk to him, but that spider was fast and evasive. Since Sam didn’t know his real identity, he couldn’t track him down. He wasn’t as stupid as to go to Stark and ask – threaten – him where Spider-Man was. All he had to do was wait.

And because of fate, or destiny, or misfortune, Sam would actually see the young man sooner than expected.

Sam had just been staking out Spider-Man while he stopped a robbery in Manhattan. Satisfied that the superhero didn’t need him, Sam went back to his car. A man approached him. The ex-hunter looked at him and tensed. The new arrival was staring at him with interest, and not of the good kind. He looked trained, professional. His stance was relaxed but ready. Sam faced him with a smile, but internally, he was wary. There was something off about him.

“Hey, how are you?” The man asked with a smirk.

That didn’t sit well with Sam.

“Fine, thanks, you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He answered with a dismissive hand.

“Do you know a Sam Smith? I gather he works around these parts.”

When the stranger said Sam’s alias, he knew something was wrong. Sam Smith didn’t do anything that would garner anyone’s attention.

“I don’t know any Sam Smith. I don’t live here.” Sam shrugged and turned to get to the Impala.

“Don’t play dumb, now. We both know who you are.”

Sam huffed. No, you didn’t know that.

“So, what do you say? You coming with us?”

Us?

Sam turned back to see that two other men had joined the first one.

“Look,” he said with a smile bordering on smug. “I don’t know what you want, but I’m sure, we can make a deal.”

Another deal Sammy? Dean’s voice delivered angrily in his mind.

The first man, that Sam called Leader in his head, laughed.

“Right. Maybe you can pay us then?”

No.

Sam took a deep breath.

“Actually, yes. Anything you want. Name your price.”

I’ll leave anyway, even though it would break his heart to do so.

While he was talking, the ex-hunter inched little by little to his car. If he could get inside, he could escape. It was the coward’s way, but at this point, Sam knew that three against one wasn’t going to fly. Especially since his right arm wasn’t fully healed yet. The other men were healthy, prepared and knew they had the advantage in the deserted street. Leader smirked and took something out of his waistband. Sam took a step back when he saw the glinting blade of a hunting knife.

Of course, they were armed.

“Isn’t that a bit of an overkill?” Sam asked rhetorically with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” Leader retorted.

Sam suddenly lunged at the car door, opening it abruptly. The guys shouted and followed him. He had just the time to grab the gun hidden in the glove compartment and aim it at Leader’s head. It efficiently stopped him in his tracks. He held up a hand to stop his companions. One of his henchmen had found a baseball bat in the few seconds Sam had his back turned. The other slipped brass knuckles on his hands. They were now cornering him. Leader seemed to find this funny somehow.

“Don’t do anything stupid with that cowboy.” He guffawed while showing off his knife wielding skills. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Sam smiled insincerely.

“Nah, don’t worry. My hand never shakes when I shoot.”

Something uncertain flickered in Leader’s eyes. He realized that Sam was serious and started to doubt. Good. The ex-hunter couldn’t deny it felt good to see the doubts, the almost fear in people like them. It reminded of hunting and how the Winchester name used to bring terror and respect. Leader gulped and looked at his henchmen. He didn’t look sure of the situation anymore. An implicit conversation passed between them before they apparently took a decision.

“Right,” Leader scoffed. “You didn’t even remove the safety.”

The henchman on his left launched himself at Sam, raising the bat above his head. The movement was slow and predictable. The ex-hunter blocked the hit with his left arm. The henchman gaped, leaving time for Sam to grab the steel bat.

At the same time, Leader and Henchman #2 ran at him. Leader was ready to stab him when Sam jerked Henchman #1 toward him, using him as a shield. Leader sunk his blade inside his companion. The man screamed from pain and fell on the ground, dropping the bat.

Henchman #2 yelled, “Son of a bitch” and punched Sam in the kidneys. Pain exploded in his back and Sam shouted, his legs buckling under him. He lost his grip on the gun. Feet shot it out of Sam’s reach. Henchman #2 took advantage of Sam’s momentary immobility to punch him in the face twice. Blood squirted from his lips, splashing on his shirt.

Leader seemed stunned for a bit but seeing Sam on the ground woke him up. Holding the knife with both hands, Leader was going to strike Sam down. The ex-hunter saw the baseball bat and grabbed it. He knelt and swung against Leader’s hands. There was a crack and the knife went flying out of immediate reach. Sam turned toward Henchman #2 and repeated the movement. The man took a step back to evade.

Someone came up behind him and restrained him, blocking his arms against his body. Henchman #2 smirked. Panting, Sam mentally asked for Dean’s forgiveness before body slamming Henchman #1 several times against the car. The man grunted in his ear, clearly in pain. He tried to grab Sam’s face, scratching his cheek, nose, and almost popping one of his eyes out. Sam groaned. Henchman #2 came back and started hitting him. Henchman #1 found his throat and started to squeeze.

As the hits went on and Sam lacked oxygen, he started to lose consciousness. He couldn’t feel his body anymore. He didn’t have the strength. He wouldn’t last long, and it seemed they were now determined to kill him. He fell to his knees just as Leader came back holding Sam’s gun.

Stunned, hurt, Sam looked at Leader as he made a show to remove the gun safety slowly. He smiled.

“This is how you do it.”

Sam’s vision blurred. It was a relief, he wouldn’t even feel the bullet making its way through his skull. If he was going to die

Dean, I’m coming

he was going to look at death straight in the eyes.

A few seconds before he lost consciousness, he thought he saw a white string block the gun’s muzzle before it could fire. Sam grinned, somehow knowing that Spider-Man came back for him in his last moments.

*

Sometimes life gives you a hundred chances.

*

Sam was surprised to open his eyes to the white ceiling of a hospital room. The antiseptic smell, the thin mattress and covers, it was foreign and familiar at the same time. Sam couldn’t feel his face, or his arm, or his back. Waking up banged up wasn’t rare. Waking up in hospital a bit more so. Waking up and still being alive after what happened made him think that his guardian angel pranced around New York with a bright red and blue costume.

A nurse and a doctor came by a few minutes later to check on him. They said he was lucky. They said his kidneys had extensive bruising. They said his right arm was broken again. They said he had a hairline fracture on his cheekbone. They said they had to stitch him up. They said he was going to be fine.

Sam closed his eyes and sighed.

They were going to leave when Sam asked them if it was Spider-Man who saved him.

The doctor smiled and said, “Yes. He came in with you unconscious in his arms. He was rather frantic.”

The nurse added, “He was there just a few hours ago.”

With a few last recommendations, they left Sam alone with his thoughts. Weariness suddenly hit him and Sam fell asleep almost instantaneously. Now more than ever he couldn’t stop thinking about Spider-Man.

Sam had to wait a few days before he could leave the hospital. He called a cab to go back to his motel. The hospital couldn’t tell him if they knew anything about the Impala, or if Spider-Man had said something about it. Apparently, the young hero had been more preoccupied by a wounded Sam than a car, retorted a nurse drily.

When the cab arrived at the motel’s parking space, the ex-hunter smiled when he saw the Impala. He paid the driver and got out of the vehicle. The Impala’s window was shattered, and the door pushed in. Sam winced. He started to go around when he noticed a brown-haired young man leaning against it. He seemed nervous. He was wringing his fingers, his eyes jumping off things every two seconds.

Replacing his arm brace, Sam cleared his throat. The young man startled and looked at Sam nervously.

“Oh, oh. Hi.” The young man greeted.

“Hi,” Sam said with a slight smile. “Is there something you need?”

“Ah, yes. I…”

The young man gulped and shuffled his feet.

“There’s something you need to know.”

The ex-hunter frowned. He stopped a few feet in front of the other man.

“What is it?”

“I’m Peter.” He blurted out. “I mean, I’m Peter Parker. That’s my name. Peter… I mean. Sam. You… um. Nice to meet you.”

Despite himself, Sam chuckled. He shook the hand Peter was offering.

“Nice to meet you too, Peter-Sam.”

Peter groaned and passed a hand on his face in embarrassment.

“No, I mean,” Peter took a deep breath. “Hi Sam, I’m Peter Parker.”

Sam looked at him more closely.

“How do you know my name?” He asked, leaning back a bit, his left hand grasping at his gun and coming up empty. He smiled encouragingly at the young man when he didn’t continue. He was watching Sam warily.

Peter inhaled and rushed, “You know me by another name.”

The ex-hunter raised an eyebrow and waited. Peter closed his eyes and started to pull down his t-shirt’s collar. Stunned, Sam opened his mouth slightly when the familiar red spider-webbed leather suit came into view. He couldn’t really believe it. And yet, when he thought about it, Peter’s voice did sound familiar.

“I…” Sam was lost for words. “Why?”

“Why what?” Peter asked frowning.

“Why now? I thought you—”

Hated me.

“I didn’t hate you Sam. I… I was scared,” the young man admitted.

“Of me?”

Peter looked at him through his eyelashes, guilty. Sam was shocked. He never meant to scare Peter.

“I’m sor—” Sam started to say before Peter cut him off.

“Look, I… I apologize for what happened last time. I searched Wendigos. I thought there were only mythical creatures and urban legends. Every source stated that once you change into a Wendigo, you can never go back. Your human side dies out.”

The young man stared at Sam, brown eyes serious and heavy.

“You killed the beast before it killed you.”

Sam watched him aptly. Peter frowned and looked away.

“It’s ok, Peter. You couldn’t have known. There are things in my life, I’m so used to them, I don’t even notice if it’s weird or wrong anymore.”

Killing monsters, any monsters. Killing demons’ hosts without trying to save them first.

Killing, killing, killing.

Oh god, he shouldn’t let Peter near him.

“No, Sam. I’m sorry because when you were attacked it was because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

Peter huffed and passed a hand on his forehead.

“The men, they work for... he calls himself the Green Goblin. He has a thing for m— Spider-Man. He wants to destroy him, his life and the people he loves.”

Peter looked at Sam, deadly serious.

“I… couldn’t let him do that. I’m sorry, Sam.”

The young man sidestepped Sam to leave but the ex-hunter stopped him.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ve had worse,” he joked. “I don’t scare easily.”

Sam smiled and waited for Peter to take his hand. The other man looked from Sam’s face to his hand and took it shyly after a few heart-stopping seconds.

God, it felt right.

Sam pulled Peter against him. Peter leaned in, careful of his wounds.

Sam could finally breathe.

*

When he arrived in New York, he had planned to stay for a few weeks, see the superheroes in action, and maybe help. He hadn’t considered calling New York home before all that.