NOTE:

ok so part of my non-fic related WIPS are based around my interpretation of grim reapers, hence why there's some of that in here. the POV jumps around a little bit but i don't think its too jarring.

Ok enjoy

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"Goddamn it, Parker."

The first thing Peter heard before he opened his eyes was a voice, one he didn't recognise, and he snapped his eyes open to find himself standing where he'd been moments ago. In front of him was a person; a girl, she was taller than him, wore strange dark clothes and a hood that covered most of her face. She had some kind of stick in her hands, but she was leaning on it nonthreateningly. "You know," she said, voice calm and thoughtful. "You're not supposed to be here yet. This is going to be such a hassle."

"Who are you?!" he snaps, eyeing her warily and getting into a defensive position. He didn't understand! One second ago, he'd been jumping in front of a falling chunk of concrete to shield a kid, not knowing until the last second that there was a large piece of metal producing out of it—he'd not even felt it go into his chest, but he knew it did. But now he was here, standing up perfectly normal.

The girl slips her hood back, revealing pale skin, thick black hair, and strange black markings (tattoos?) in a swirling pattern around her left eye. "You're dead, Peter." She stated softly. "I'm sorry."

"What? No! I'm..." he trailed off when she gestured with her staff behind him, and he turned around to see himself, in his Spider-Man suit, laying on the ground with a thick piece of metal producing out of his chest. Tony was kneeling next to him with Steve, both were frantically trying to stop the bleeding. "Oh." Peter murmured.

"I'm sorry." The girl repeated. "You died a noble death; a hero's death."

"Did—did the kid..." He stammered. The girl walked up beside him and pointed in the distance, where a mother was clutching her daughter tightly to her, tears of relief streaming down her face, but her face fell when she saw Peter—Peter's body, that is—and she turned herself so her daughter could not see the carnage, her face going pale at the thought of New York's hero dead.

Peter sighed, relieved he'd managed to save the kid. He turned to the girl. "So... are you, like, death personified? Do I have to fight you? Pay you?"

"I'm a reaper," The girl smiled softly. "And no, none of that. I do not take life. My job is to escort you safely to heaven—that's where you're going, if you had any doubts. I'm not supposed to tell you that in advance, but I'm making an exception with you because, well, you're you."

"Wait, so what do you mean escort safely?"

"There's far more to this world then you ever knew. Things that can't hurt the living, can't see the living, or be seen by the living."

"But they can...they can hurt the dead?"

"Yep. That's why my job is to protect you. Like a bodyguard on your journey to the afterlife."

"Oh." Peter said, looking away from the Reaper Girl and back to his body. Steve and Tony were talking, yelling even, but he couldn't hear them. Why couldn't he hear them?

"It's, uh, usually for the best that you can't hear the living. You don't want to hear what people say, it can be... destressing." The reaper explained. She watched Peter carefully. "But you want to hear, don't you?"

He nods, swallowing a lump in his throat. He wanted to hear Tony and Steve, even if this would be the last time. The Reaper put her arm over Peter's shoulders and lead him over to his body.

"Ready yourself, Peter." She warned him once they stopped beside them. "it's not... it's not pretty."

Peter nodded, steeling himself. The Reaper turned and touched her staff gently to Peter's body, on the head. just like that, it was like everything burst to life.

All at once, sound met Peter's ears. Traffic, sirens, horns, motors, but none of that mattered, all he did was focus on what Steve and Tony were saying. Steve shifted positions, giving Peter a clear view of his own body for the first time.

"—can't slow it, why can't we slow it?!" Tony was frantically saying, pressing his jacket down onto Peter's body's wound, which was a very large metal pole sticking out of his chest and God his back. he'd been... he'd been impaled. All the way through.

Peter sucked in a breath. He knelt down on the ground next to Steve and across from Tony. "that's not good." He looked down at his own chest but saw no evidence of the pole currently producing out of his body.

"Most people don't go to the afterlife with their dying wounds." The reaper explained. "The bad people might, but... well, that's not important. Anyway, even amputees can get their missing limbs back, if they wish."

"I don't know!" Steve responded the Tony's question, grabbing the metal pole carefully, trying not to move it inside Peter too much as he bent it in half until it snapped with his super strength. "We need to get this thing out of him, if he starts healing around it..."

"Where is MEDVAC, goddamn it?!" Tony snapped into coms. Peter sighed.

"Don't be mad at them, they're doing their best." He told Tony, who made no move to show he'd heard him.

"Can't hear you." The Reaper Girl told him softly, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder. She'd stayed standing, staff in hand as she surveyed the surroundings constantly. She really was like a bodyguard.

"2 minutes out." Natasha's voice came through Tony and Steve's coms.

"that's not fast enough!" Tony yelled. He ripped the com out of his ear and flung it away, clenching his teeth. "We don't have two minutes!" His voice came out trembling as he spoke again, tears brimming in his furious eyes as he looked down at Peter's body.

"I can't—I don't..." Tony muttered, breathing uneven. "I don't know what to do."

"Mr Stark." Tears brimmed in Peter's eyes. He moved over and sat directly next to him. "I'm sorry." He told Tony, as if he could hear him. He couldn't, of course. But peter still spoke. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know there was metal attached... I just needed to save that kid... I'm sorry, sir. I don't want to... I don't want to go."

"Why'd you gotta be a goddamn hero, huh, kid?!" Tony snapped, still pressing his jacket to the wound, but blood kept flowing out, soaking the jacket and Tony's bare hands. "Should have saved that shit for me... and saved old lady's churros and rescued dogs... I dunno." He scoffed slightly. "I never should have let you come."

"Tony, don't." Steve said, "This isn't anyone's fault. Not yours, not his, no one's." It wasn't even a person that had attacked the city; it was an earthquake.

"Mr Parker's heart has been stopped for over two minutes." FRIDAY informed Tony.

"Shut up! I know, you don't think I know that?!" Tony's hands hook as he shouted. "We can't—can't give him compressions, the blo—fuck, the blood."

Peter looked up at the Reaper. "I feel helpless. I wish I could—well, I don't know. I guess, I... I'm really dead, huh. There's no coming back from that."

"Well, people have been brought back to life before." The Reaper tells him. "But please, don't get your hopes up, Peter. Your injury is fatal, your heart is not beating, I fear even the most modern of technology is no match."

"My friends will be devastated. May, too. I was the last family she had left." Peter knelt, watching as Steve and Tony tried their best to stabilise his body. Members of the public had seen now, there was no doubt that somewhere someone was filming it.

"New York will miss its hero." The Reaper added solemnly. "You did a lot for those people. And the Avengers, they will all miss you."

"They didn't really know me." Peter shrugged. "Tony, yeah. Steve, a little bit. But the rest I only see... only ever saw during missions."

"You had an impact on everyone's lives." The Reaper responded, pointing to the near distance, where Bucky road a motorbike up to the scene with Clint behind him. Bucky looked sad, shocked, while Clint looked quietly, numbly shaken. "Clint was a father, before all this, y'know."

Peter looked up. "What happened?"

"Some surviving Hydra operatives found the safehouse. Wiped out his whole family, his wife, too. All in heaven, I was one of the one's to escort them."

"He never said anything..." peter murmured, watching Clint with newfound sadness.

"He couldn't bring himself to speak about it. Natasha and Bruce know, but that's about it."

"And they just...let him keep working?" Peter asked. "God, they let me tease him and complain and annoy him... I feel like such a dick. He didn't deserve that."

"No, I suppose he didn't." The Reaper responds. "But, in a way, I think interacting with you brought some light back to his life. He felt pretty paternal for you." The Reaper points to Clint as he stumbles up to the scene and drops down next to Tony, with shaky hands, he tries to help, too. "Well, nothing compared to Tony."

"Tony? Come on." Peter half scoffed. "he's...he just felt pity for me. Responsible, cause he took me to Germany, and all that."

"That man has never cared for someone the way he cared for you." The Reaper insists. "He is your father in all but blood. You don't feel the same way?"

Peter watched Tony, who had pulled Peter's body into his lap after Steve had also snapped off what he could of the back end of the pole, to try and stop the bleeding from both sides. He wished he could feel it, feel his mentor's arms around him.

"I... do. He was like a father to me; I'm pretty consistently lacking in that dad-partment sooo."

"Life has been cruel to you." The Reaper nods.

"Yeah."

Peter fell silent, watching people crowd around his body.

"C'mon, Spider-Man." Bucky had muttered, also trying to help. Peter realised then, that they didn't all know his name. he wished he'd told them. Now, it all felt like so much hassle to keep his identity a secret if he was always just gonna die anyway. He knew Happy would protect May and his friends. He also knew that there was police and other public servants, and other vigilantes, to protect his family and friends.

"Do you take many heroes?" Peter asked the reaper quietly, trying to resign himself to his fate. Dead. Dead. You're dead.

"Escort. And yeah, that's kind of my department. You guys are like hot chips on a cold day for the rejects."

"The what?"

"Hot chips? Y'know, with salt."

"No, the rejects." Peter clarified.

"Oh." The reaper gave a sheepish smile. "Hell's Rejects. Those are the things that go after newly departed souls. It's a long boring explanation. But they consume souls, they're vicious vile things."

Bucky chose that moment to take off Peter's mask. Once he did, he swore, and Clint moved away to throw up. "A fucking—a—fuck."

"I'm not that ugly." But no one except The Reaper could hear his quip. She gave him a pity chuckle.

"I knew he was young..." Bucky muttered. "Back when he caught my arm, knew he could hold his own, but fuck I forgot how young."

Tony wasn't paying anyone any mind, still desperately trying to still the flow. It wasn't looking good. Peter knew that. Tony would know that. Everyone knew it. Losing that much blood, to that kind of injury, well, it wasn't carrying a high percentage of recovery.

In that moment, a jet appeared overhead, and Natasha stuck her head out of the door. A few people looked relieved to see her, knowing that they could get Spider-Man help, but other people—Steve, Tony, knew the gravity of the situation.

"We need to get him out of here NOW!" Steve ordered, jumping to his role as captain because someone had to. Natasha landed the jet, disappearing away from the door and reappearing with a stretcher bed. "Okay, everyone pack as much around the wounds as you can." He ordered, as if they hadn't been doing that.

"Their clothes are ruined." Peter pouted, eyeing Tony's jacket, Clint's jumper, and Bucky's jacket that were all now soaked in Peter's blood.

"Respectfully, Peter, I don't think they give a fuck about their clothes. They care about you." The Reaper said.

Peter sighed. "It's all for nothing, though. I'm dead."

"You are." The Reaper acknowledged. "But they're the Avengers. Do you think they'll give up now or wait until they've exhausted every option they can think of."

"I was impaled. Through the chest. I got—I got Rodrick-but-in-the-100'd. whatever his name is."

"But do you think they'll give up?"

"No." Peter admitted. He watched them lift his body onto the bed, a huge puddle of blood left on the ground. "...They should clean that up, my blood's radioactive."

Steve held his shield above Peter-s body, doing his best to shield him from on-looker's view. Especially news.

Everyone moved with the bed to the jet, and Peter watched them go. "Now, what?"

"Now, I take you to the afterlife." The Reaper told him patiently.

"What about May?" Peter asked sadly, watching the jet fly up and take off towards the Avengers Tower. "I can't leave her alone..."

"Peter, I can see the gears turning in your head. You want to stay and watch over her, but it would break you."

"I'd get used to the loneliness, I think. Maybe I might be one of those spirits that communicates through condensation on the mirror."

"No, peter."

"Then one where ladies and the globe—orb—ball things of mystic magic talk to me."

"No, Peter, you don't understand."

"I'll just watch her, then. I'm used to being ignored anyway, just not by May."

"Peter, stop!" the Reaper snaps. She sighs, "look, I'm sorry, but it doesn't work like that. When souls stay on this—this plane of existence for too long, they turn bad. They lose their chance to get to the afterlife. They get vengeful. Angry. Uncontrollable. They turn into the very things that I, and all the other Reaper's out there, are meant to protect you from."

"Oh..." Peter stared.

"It's not a good fate, Peter. You would consume innocent souls, bind with them for eternity. I know you love May, and your friends, and Tony, and the Avengers, but the best thing to do is move on." She told him gently.

"I don't feel ready."

"I know. I don't want you here either, for the record. You're too young, you had so much to do."

"But I have to go." Peter sighed. "Don't I?" he couldn't stand the thought of hurting innocents, after all.

"You know, you might have some people waiting for you in the afterlife, too."

Peter stilled. "Now I really don't feel ready. What do you say to your parents that you never really knew? Or the uncle you got killed?!"

"They'd probably appreciate a 'Hello', I imagine." The Reaper responded warmly.

"Can't you just, like, go back in time and stop me from dying?"

"I'm not a time traveller, Peter. I exist outside of time, but I cannot erase what has been done. I can't meddle with the mortal world, anyway."

Peter went quiet for a little while. The Reaper girl had a point, he had to admit—albeit begrudgingly. He just wished things could be easy for once. Why couldn't things ever go his way?! Even in death he can't get a break. Fuck this shit, he should have become an astronaut.

"So, how long is the journey to heaven? How do we do it? And can I at least quickly stop by my friends and family, to see them one last time?"

"Less questions, there are things I'm not allowed to tell you, you know." the Reaper tells him, arm over his shoulder. "But we can go by your school one last time, sure."

"How do we get there?" Peter asked. He knew he was standing on the ground right now, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. He felt different. Like his legs weren't touching anything. That he wasn't standing anywhere. He just knew by looking? It was hard to explain.

"Climb inside my mouth."

His eyes widened. "What?!"

The Reaper smirked. "Kidding. Just take my hand, close your eyes if you like." She pulled her arm away and offered her hand. He looked at her nervously. She nodded. He took her hand and closed his eyes. It felt like he was getting thrown around a rollercoaster in all directions, being dunked in water, and being pulled along ice all at once. When it stopped, he opened his eyes to find them standing in front of his school.

"Now, ground rule: don't play hero here, it can't help you. Now we're away from your death sight, which is protected, the Rejects can get you, so if I tell you to get behind me, you do, okay?!" the Reaper told him as they walked up the stairs towards the school.

"But I can fight..." He protested.

"You can't fight Rejects." She responded. "This staff is warded with magics far beyond mortal understandings. It is the only thing that can hold them off. Your webs, if you even had them in this plane, which you don't, would do nothing. Your fighting skills would be as effective as hitting a bull with a marshmallow. No fighting. I mean it, Peter."

Warily, he nodded. "Okay." He agreed. They were at Ned's classroom now, and he looked in, seeing his own peers doing their work, and Ned anxiously googling Spider-Man sightings on his phone. he was trying to find out about his where abouts, as there hadn't been any live news coverage yet since the earthquake had taken out many cell phone towers. Peter didn't want him to find out like this, find out his best friend had been impaled to the ground.

Peter hesitated for a second in the doorway, nervous, but then he walked forwards and up to Ned. He slid into the empty seat, kind of—he couldn't feel it, but his 'body' sat on it as if he could. "Hey, man." He spoke up. Ned made no motion to show he'd heard him. "Look, I'm... I'm sorry, man. We had all these plans, growing up together, going to MIT. But you and MJ are going to have to go on without me. You're my best friend, dude. My guy in the chair. The first person—normal person—to find out about Spider-man. You mean so much to me, and I know you can't hear me, but I know that you know what I'd want: I want you to go on with life, you'll do great things. And I'll miss you."

By the end, Peter was a mess. He didn't want to be doing this. Saying a one-sided goodbye to his best friend. But what other options did he have? Seeing him one last time is important, even if Ned can't see or hear him...do their secret handshake, build LEGO's, watch movies. Maybe Peter shouldn't have come here.

"Peter." The Reaper warned him softly. He nodded, stood up, cast one last look to his unsuspecting best friend, before he left the classroom in search for MJ's.

After Peter left the room, Ned looked over at the empty seat next to him, feeling compelled to, for some reason. A small spider crawled up the lip of the chair and Ned gave a half smile, snapping a quick photo and sending it to Peter's discord with the words "it's like you were here all along :D"

Meanwhile, Peter and the Reaper had made it to MJ's class. She was currently in the middle of talking to the class, this was her "constructive debates" elective and she loved it a lot. "You're always so passionate." Peter chuckled, walking up to her as she continued her rant on why media conglomerates are the most annoying thing in the world for small businesses. MJ did not show any notice of him, and he sighed.

"I guess a small part of me wanted you to be able to see me." He admitted. "Because it doesn't feel right saying this without you being able to hear it, especially when I've been, uh, working up the courage for so long to tell you. But, uh, this is my only chance. I love you MJ, I've had a big crush on you forever but didn't want to ruin what we had, didn't think you'd go for a guy like me. Having you in my life is something I'll never regret. I wish I could have told you about Spider-Man, but I'm pretty sure you have your suspicions anyway..." Peter trailed off with a sigh.

He should have just told her, damn it! Why couldn't he have done this when he was alive?! He was a superhero! He fought monsters and aliens and very bad people! But, what? He didn't have the courage to tell one of his best friends the truth?! He was a sad excuse for a hero.

MJ was now listening to her opponent talk, taking notes in her book intently.

"For the record, I didn't know I was going to die today. if I did, I would have told you. Told you how I feel, who I am, and told you and Ned to take care of each other, and—and May, she doesn't have anyone left anymore... she needs you guys. I know you're smart, MJ, the smartest of all of us, and just like Ned you'll go on to do great things. I know you know what I would want—what I do want. So just...stay strong? I'm sorry."

Peter walked out of the room with a sigh. The reaper looked between him and NJ, sighed, and followed him out.

Back in the room, MJ flipped her notebook around to show her classmate. "Look, it's you, in a crisis, because your argument is bullshit." She had not been taking notes, but rather sketching him.

The classmate protested and she put the book down to continue the debate, where the breeze from the air conditioner flipped a few pages, and it stayed open on a drawing of Peter, he'd been smiling and laughing, unknowingly posing as a model for her. It caught MJ's eye as she sat back down after putting her classmate in his place and she give a small smile to herself. The only person she could draw with her eyes closed, using her non-dominant hand, and still have it turn out perfect. He was perfect.

Peter and the Reaper Girl walked back out of the school.

"Thank you, for this." He told her. He can't say it had made him feel better, but he knew that he would kick himself for eternity if he didn't at least try.

The Reaper just looked at him with a sense of sadness. "Of course."

Peter took one last look at the school. "So... what's the move?"

"Now, I take you to heaven. Your mother. Father. Uncle. They're all there, waiting for you, Peter."

Peter nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. He just couldn't believe this was happening. He knew he risked his life every day, but he was just... in denial. That maybe this was a bad dream, and he'd wake up and have May or Mr Stark there to comfort him. And it would all be ok. But that wasn't the case.

Peter was dead. And he was lucky to have been able to see his friends one last time. But now he has to go.

The Reaper extended her hand out to him. "It's time to rest."

Peter stared for a second, before he resigned himself, sighed, and reached out to take her hand. He was engulfed in a beautiful warm light, feeling calmness and joy spread within him as the surroundings faded, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was face to face with Ben, and two people he just knew to be his parents.

"It's with great sadness that we come to you with breaking news this afternoon," The News Reporter spoke solemnly to the camera. The students in the class stopped what they were doing to pay attention to the TV. "Following their efforts to aid with the effects of the freak earthquake that hit New York this afternoon, the Avengers have suffered a great loss, but the citizens of New York have suffered an even greater one. It has been confirmed that Spider-Man was involved in an accident and has, sadly, passed away despite great efforts to save him."

Ned froze. Everyone froze. Mourning Spider-Man. But Ned knew. He knew. He stood up from his chair, startling the rest of the class when it fell over from the motion.

"NO! Tell me it's not true!" he turned to the teacher, Mr Harrington, desperate for guidance. "Tell me!"

"Ned..." People murmured, all hurt but wanting their classmate to calm down. They all loved Spider-Man and were devastated, yes, but they didn't know him.

Ned was bawling now. "You have to...you have to tell me its fake."

The TV was now displaying footage of the Avengers taking Spider-Man into the jet. Steve had the shield over him, yes, but the unmistakable suit was still visible. It was such a grim image, stopping everyone's thoughts in their tracks to see a hero like that.

"Class, I know you're upset, we all know what Spider-Man meant to this community," Mr Harrington began. His phone began to rang and he glanced at it. "I assume they'll be cancelling school. Please just... talk amongst yourselves and try to stay calm." He glanced at Ned, then answered the phone. Ned was too busy pulling his own phone out.

"If I just call Peter, he'll straighten this out." He mumbled to himself. He selected Peter's contact and called, but it rang out. He tried on every app the two had, and nothing got an answer. He kept trying. he had to.

"Thank you, bye." Mr Harrington said into his phone, then hung up and cleared his throat. "So, class is cancelled for the rest of the day. Buses will run as normal, students who walk may sign out at the office, and people who get picked up can have their parents and guardians called."

Ned was still desperately trying to get an answer. "C'mon, c'mon... answer, you gotta answer, I know you can't be... you can't be dead."

Mr Harrington walked up to Ned. "Ned, what's wrong?" he asked his student gently. He knew Ned liked Spider-Man, but he was behaving as if... as if he knew him.

Ned just shook his head. "He can't be dead."

Mr Harrington put a hand on Ned's shoulder, trying to calm him down. Was he going to have to call the school nurse?

Suddenly the classroom door swung open, and everyone looked over to see MJ standing there, she looked desperate, pale, frantic. She was here for one reason. She looked around the room then found Ned. No words were spoken. She just stared at him, a silent question, a plea as she panted from the run.

Ned just stared back, tears rolling down his cheeks, and then he nodded.

MJ bit her lip, tears now rolling down her cheek. She ran into the room and up to Ned, hugging him fiercely as they both sobbed.

"I don't understand!" She sobbed.

"He was—he was fine this morning." Ned choked out, trembling. "He won't answer my calls. It can't be true, can it?!"

They puled back and Ned looked at his friend desperately.

"There's...there's one way to find out."

"MJ, Ned, what's going on?!" one of their classmates, Betty, asked. "you're acting as if you..." she trails off.

"Knew Spider-Man personally..." Mr Harrington mumbled. A new wave of grief hit him. Not another student. MJ and Ned turned to the teacher. They didn't deny it. He looked from them, to the rest of his class, and his gaze caught on an empty seat where one of his students usually sat, and he just...didn't know what to do. He didn't say another word, sinking down into his chair with a frozen look.

"Let's go." MJ told Ned. The two were in their own world. "They can—they can tell us. Right?"

Ned swallowed hard, nodding tearfully, and they both ran out of the room before anyone could react.

The classroom was silent.

"What just happened?" Flash asked, pale, trying to deny the connections his mind had made.

"Peter is... wa... Peter's Spider-Man." Gabe fumbled over his words. They were all mourning two different parts of the same person. Their classmate, some of which had known him since they were little... and the crime-fighting hero of New York who'd only recently become an Avenger, who had saved some of them in the past.

Everyone fell silent again, shocked.

Flash let out a shaky breath, tears falling as he put his head down on his desk. "Goddamn it, Parker."

AUTHORS NOTE:

I know I could have gone into detail describing the mission, the earthquake and all that but I decided against it, because the fic is centred around Peter's experiences after dying. Might post an alternative where he survives, idk yet.