Come back for me

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/64243609.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies)
Relationships: Miles Morales/Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Miles Morales & Gwen Stacy
| Spider-Gwen
Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Hobie Brown, Spider-Gang
(Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Spider-Ham - Character
Additional Tags: Trauma, Brainwashing, Resentment, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to
Friends to Lovers, maybe? - Freeform, Miles Morales Needs a Hug,
Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen Needs a Hug, Cartoon Physics, cartoon
violence, guns and bombs violence
Language: English
Series: Part 6 of Happy Gwiles or we riot
Stats: Published: 2025-03-29 Updated: 2025-03-31 Words: 3,294 Chapters: 3/?
 Come back for me
by teamheadkick

Summary

Gwen is captured by the Spider Society.

Now on the run with the remnants of the Spider Gang, Miles must do everything he can not
to lose faith in saving her.

Why does he resent his dimension's variant of Gwen? Can he overcome that resentment? Or
at least put it aside long enough to work with her - and save Gwen from herself?

Initially follows a similar timeline to 'What did I ever do to you?' (I know it's confusing!
Sorry!): Miles and Gwen save Jeff and New York-1610 from the Spot, but don't reconcile -
diverges when the Society attacks the Spider-Gang and captures Gwen.

Notes

I honestly have no idea where this will go, but I had to scratch this itch.

So I wrote in 'I Came Back for You' about Miguel wanting to twist Gwen into his puppet and
make her hunt Miles down. And in 'You're Like Me', I briefly explored Gwen's worst
nightmare: what if she had let the Society fully convert her?

Sooner or later, I had to explore that idea more fully.

 The Anomaly
Chapter Summary

He's been on the run before. From her, even.

But never like this.

This time, she's leading the hunt.

'Begin your sweep. Find the Anomaly.'

From his cramped hiding space, he hears the command. Flat, unbending, emotionless - yet
paradoxically icy with hatred. It cannot be reasoned with, or bargained with. Appeals to logic
and emotion alike will meet with only one possible outcome: failure. A force that absolutely
will not stop or yield or relent, ever - until Miguel O'Hara closes those feral claws around his
neck.

His refuge is so flimsy, pathetic, he swears she must see him. He knows she will, sooner or
later. So his every coiled sinew and tensed muscle readies for the inescapable.

He's been on the run before. From her, even.

But not like this.

This time, she's leading the hunt.

He remembers the moment they took her from him. It took them all. Noir and Ham and
Hobie and Peter and Peni and Pavitr and Margo. To drag him away from her, from them. A
last hand held out to her - mirroring hers held out to his.

He remembers her last words to him - before they took her from him.

'Come back for me.'

Right now, he doesn't know if he can.

He doesn't even know if any part of her wants him to anymore.

Or even if, in the prison of her own mind, there's any part of her left.
It should've been him. Yet she gave herself up for him. Noir and Ham and the rest of the
Gang were ready to go down fighting for him - for them. They would've massacred Miguel's
goons in droves. But inevitably, the Society's sheer weight of numbers would've
overwhelmed them. So Gwen made an offer Miguel couldn't refuse: Let The Original
Anomaly go. Let their friends go.

And in exchange: herself.

The worst part? He hadn't ever had the chance to forgive her.

Ironic then, that so shortly after he'd lost her forever, she'd come back to him.

Or at least, a version of her did.

A pale imitation. A living ghost. Of a friend he cannot properly grieve, for she's not even
truly dead (even as she's suffering a living death). Yet still he grieves. (And he cannot let her
go when he sees her face everyday.)

Even if she wears Gwen's face, even if in too many ways to count she actually is Gwen,
she'll never be Gwen.

Not my Gwen...

He's grateful for this new Spider-girl's help. He truly is.

And yet.

He loathes himself for even thinking this. But his revulsion cannot still the hateful thought
worming its way into the deepest recesses of his mind. The more he tries to tamp it down, the
more it haunts him, even as a solitary tear slides, barely noticed, down his face. His plea for
the ghost's forgiveness, for the abhorrent question he simply cannot stop asking himself.

If they wouldn't take me, why didn't they take her instead of Gwen?

They had him. Or they should have.

The Society goon trying to fix him in a chokehold was somehow too damn clumsy to actually
catch him in a firm grip. But then again, Ben Reilly was never exactly the brains of the outfit.

He was, however, landing several vicious blows. What he lacked in brains, he made up for in
brute strength. (What could you expect from a brute, anyway?)

At his peak, Miles would've easily disposed of this jerk with a single charged venom blast, or
a well-timed dropkick while cloaked.

He was not at his peak.

Months on the run, barely any food or sleep. He ran and fought with the wild ferocity born of
desperation and despair. But he was running on fumes.

Reilly never passed up a chance to taunt or beat him. As usual.

'I'm just buttering you up, Morales. Your little girlfriend's coming to finish the job.'

If he'd heard this the first time, he might've given a shit. But then again, Reilly was nothing if
not predictable.

Miles just shot back his usual stony stare. The one that telegraphed: I'm just so done with this
shit.

But beneath that nonchalant - even bored - exterior, his hurt and rage and despair seethed. To
his eternal misfortune, Reilly would soon find out how deep it all went.

Even so, that didn't stop him from mouthing off like a moron.

'What's the matter, Morales? Can't an old pal say "hi"?' That mocking sneer. Grating on his
ears as ever. Even amidst getting the pulp thrashed out of him, he reflexively rolled his eyes.
Such a drama queen.

'You? Say "hi"? Gee, your vocabulary's really grown, Reilly!'

The goon flinched. Even with his doubtful intelligence, he knew when Miles was calling him
a dumbass.

Just to drive the point in, the anomaly quipped breezily: 'Want me to read you a bedtime
story?'

That did it. The goon's fingers hadn't even finished loosening involuntarily when he slipped
from Reilly's grasp and delivered a backflipped kick to his jaw. Vicious, well-timed -
and most well-deserved.

'Okay, so hear me out okay, just hear me out, just off the top of my head, I can think of "The
Three Billy Goats", " Three Blind Mice", "The Three Little Pigs"...' His bones groaned and
creaked, his muscles screamed and strained. But even though he felt the bile rising inexorably
in his throat and his words spilling out of him faster and faster and faster - he willed himself
to deliver his snarks exquisitely, impeccably.

That included sending them home with perfect timing. He furrowed his brow, affecting a
facade of mock (or, really, mocking) concern. '... but I ain't sure you can count that high,
man.'

Reilly screamed and raged impotently.

Exhausted as he was, a single thought coursed through Miles's head.

I can do this all day.

A mantra of determination. Or madness. (Honestly, at this point, he couldn't tell which was
which, or if there even was a difference anymore.)

And so he fought. And fought. And fought.

Neither side could land a finishing blow. Miles had already beaten Reilly's would-be
reinforcements senseless.

For now, it was just the two of them.

He and Reilly were deadlocked.

Things got markedly more interesting, however - when she showed up.

Not Gwen, of course. Or rather, not his Gwen. But Gwen Stacy, any Gwen Stacy, would
always spice things up. Especially if that Gwen was also a Spider-Gwen.

'Hola! Chico la gota, Meathead!'

Her deliberately mangled Spanish would probably have been more appropriate for riling up
Miguel. Still, points for trying.

That doesn't still his frustration toward her bubbling up. So brash and cocky and silly...

It's an anger born of disdain, yes. But also of concern (though - very much unlike the disdain
- he'd never be caught dead admitting it to her - at least not in public).

And - to his own surprise - that anger commingles with an abrupt, fast-swelling burst of relief
and happiness at seeing her, even if she is supposedly just Gwen's living ghost to him.

(If he hadn't been so stressed, he might've realised it. That Gwen was probably a heck of a lot
like this when she was starting out herself. Come to think of it, so was he.)

In any case, she succeeded in her objective: snatching the goon's attention away from him.
Which meant the beating slackened (somewhat).

And stopped entirely, when she dropped her mask and riveted him with sapphire blue eyes, at
once icy and smouldering.

He knew something was up when Reilly stopped talking - unfortunately, an all too rare
phenomenon.

He wasn't entirely sure, but out of the corner of his (one) unswollen eye, he swore he thought
he saw her fingers shifting, oh so subtly. Subtly, but clearly, she was signalling. But to
who...? Where...?

And - of course - Reilly didn't stop talking for long.

'Shooters on the ground and hands in the air!' The gears ground (ever so slowly) in that thick
skull, before he hastily tacked on: '... where I can see them!'

Even beaten half to death, Miles couldn't stifle the exasperated groan that escaped his split
lips.

Other-Gwen's eyes widened, fear and shock dancing across them, as though intimidated by
the hulking meta-human. She'd only gotten her powers months ago herself. So perhaps it
stood to reason that she still hadn't realised she actually matched the meathead strength for
strength.

Perhaps.

She complied without question, making a show of slowly unclasping the web shooters from
her wrists, lowering them deliberately to the floor, and stepping away with her hands coming
up...

... and then she leapt backwards, sprang herself up into the air, and unleashed a barrage of
webs from her fingers.

Despite his tense relationship with Gwen's double, Miles couldn't help smirking with
satisfaction - and pride. Organic webbing. In any universe, Gwen Stacy is amazing.

Other-Gwen's web onslaught plasters Reilly to the ground. Her organic webshooters
significantly outrange known synthetic variants. Not that Reilly ever had a chance to return
fire.

As if on cue, another fusillade accompanies Other-Gwen's massive web strike - this one made
of actual bullets. Noir unloads his tommy gun mercilessly. Lays down covering fire so thick
you'd wonder if you were on Omaha Beach. (And, if you were anyone remotely affiliated
with Miguel O'Hara, deciding between facing German MG42s - as opposed to a supremely
pissed off bloodknight Spider detective - would be a decidedly tough choice to make...)

Just the perfect cover for Other-Gwen to swing in - and swing away with Miles.

'Mr Morales, your four o' clock's here.'

Noticing his queasy expression, she follows up (even more) wryly: 'Don't rupture your
spleen, man.'

Her droll humour belies a simple truth.

And Miles knows it. No matter what (or which), Gwen always comes back for him.

So he will always come back for her.

 The Ghost
Chapter Summary

Gwen Stacy's done with being just a shadow.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Always a dance with him.

She rescued him - again. He chewed her out - again.

Even after all she's done for him, it's never good enough.

She's never good enough.

Gwen Stacy's taken a lot of crap before. Bullied by Ned's gang back in Midtown High.
Dogpiled by alpha bitches scrawling 'FREAK' across her forehead in permanent ink. So
desperate to escape that she shoved one of them clear across the hallway and into a locker.

She should've known something had changed about her. Since that night when she'd followed
the local street artist down into the subway's depths... and woke up sprawled across an old
abandoned couch, faint red marks on her hand (she figured they were just bedbugs,
considering the couch's sketchy hygiene).

She definitely knew something was up when that crazy cow-look-alike dude attacked New
York, opening blackholes all over the city - then a spider came through one of those holes and
freaking bit her.

She'd never fit in at Midtown. The people at Visions Academy were generally nicer, but she
also didn't quite feel like she was on the same wavelength as them. And then she found out
that her spider came from another world, making her an 'anomaly'. Or whatever those psycho
Spider-cops hunting them across the Spider-Verse called it.

What really screwed with her head, though, was that their leader was her. Or, at least, her
from another dimension. And it just had to be the world that her spider came from to boot.

She's never fit in. Not in school. Not in the Spider-Verse. Not even with another 'anomaly'.
Even his friends, for all their good intentions, don't quite know how to approach her.

She knows a big part of it is because she's a living reminder of their loss.
A reflection of the girl torn away from them. She's almost that girl... but not. And that makes
it even more painful than if she'd just been another random Spider-Woman with no
connection to Gwen Stacy.

It all hurts so much.

So she composes herself. Keeps her pain and disappointment and sadness just under the lid,
as she fixes his amber brown eyes with her ocean pools. And begins.

'I know... this has never been easy for you... Miles.'

Her words prompt him to flash back to their ride together, on the bus back from Alchemax
with Peter.

'I know how hard this is... to have to figure this stuff out on your own.'

Her eyes then were soft, the very picture of the defrosting ice queen she was.

Now... he hasn't even seen her face since they took her from him. Only the blood-red eye
lenses of her new mask, incandescent with her hatred of The Anomaly, her contempt and
abhorrence for his very existence. Her ghost-white suit gone, in its place some sick replica of
Miguel's fancy-schmancy techno get-up. He hasn't even heard her true voice anymore,
distorted by her prison-suit's multi-track resonance, giving it - no, forcing on it - the aspect of
a demonic insectoid or robotic drone.

That's the problem, isn't it? How this Other-Gwen keeps reminding him of her.

She's not a psychic, but they've somehow always been uniquely attuned to each other's
emotions and thoughts. She can't read them like the telepaths from those sci-fi novels and
video games, or the mages from fantasy lore, but she gets a sense of what's floating through
his mind. The more she focusses, the deeper she can probe. It cuts both ways.

So she knows she doesn't want her in his thoughts - she knows, because he's shut himself off
from her.

But even without tapping into their connection, he doesn't need to look far to see the hurt in
her sky-blue eyes.

'But do you think I like how you see me?' Her voice, a notch higher, breathier, than hers...
quavers...

'As some... copy?' ... and breaks.

But she can't stop now.

Months of stress and tension and heartbreak finally burst through. Though her eyes redden,
she refuses to let any tears escape.

'Yes, you need Gwen back. I get it.'

All this while, he's been staring back at her in stony silence. Unwilling to speak to her, or lost
for words, she isn't sure. She doesn't know whether she cares anymore.

An impulsive burst of anger. Without even thinking about it, she webs him in the chest with
her organic webs, yanks him so close she can feel his breath. And makes her stand.

'But I need you to know that I'm Gwen Stacy too! I'm a person, not just some funhouse mirror
of your lost love.'

Finally, the anger begins to bleed out of her tone, returning it to its familiar child-like
essence.

'And the sooner you realise that, the sooner we'll be able to save Gwen together.'

Her eyes fall as she admits the hard truths she's known all this while.

'I know you love her. You'll always love her...

... And I love that about you.'

She doesn't know if she'll ever get through to him. But she needs him to know this, if nothing
else.

'So even if you hate me, I'll help you get her back.'

He understands. Knows just how unfair he's been to her.

But when he sees her, he keeps seeing Gwen. She has the same golden blonde hair and sky-
blue eyes, even the same child-like tooth gap. Everything about her screams Gwen
Stacy. Screams Gwen as she was back at their first ever encounter. Right down to the
hairstyle - a full head and not the hideous half-do he'd so unwittingly inflicted upon her. No
thanks to his power incontinence (no, he really didn't know what puberty was) and incredibly
well-conceived 'plan' ('I'm gonna pull really hard.' / 'That's a terrible plan!'). (And - after the
nurse was through with them and the razor - he still had the cheek to sheepishly quip: '... Nice
to meet you?' / 'Sure. Total pleasure.')

So when this girl, this kid yanks him up super close and ultra personal, he cannot stop himself
from recalling the moment he inadvertently yanked Gwen almost literally into his face.

He should be angry at yet another triggered flashback. And yes, he still needs to work
through his ridiculously complicated feelings about her.
 But this kid, this Gwen - this person - makes it clear that she's done taking shit from him. Is it
a Gwen Stacy thing? A Spider-Gwen thing? A 1610 thing? A 1610-Spider-Gwen thing?
Whatever it is, he respects that.

Wordlessly, he nods.

Right now, it's all she can expect.

But right now, it's all she wants.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks a lot to elsenorconejo for prompting me to think more about where this story's
headed! If you don't mind spoilers, you can read his comment thread from chapter 1 for
possible ways it could all develop :)
 The Hammer and the Revolver
Chapter Summary

Spider-Ham does not take kindly to captivity.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Peter Porker does not take kindly to captivity. Months and months of 'self-criticism',
electroshock therapy, beatings... every torture method Miguel can think of does nothing
but bore him. Even Lego Spider-Man (that namby-pamby goody-two-shoes kiss-up...) can't
find any weak points. Ham gets that they're trying to do to him what they did to Gwen... but it
just won't take. That just might be because his brain doesn't follow the conventional laws of
nature. That, or he's too insane. Or both.

He also has different relationships with his guards. Some are more amenable, some easier to
goad.

In every case, he makes one fact plain:

'My friends are coming right back for me. That means they're coming right back atcha. And
you bet you'll be sorry you got 'em all riled up.'

His expression is dull, his tone nonchalant, as dry as if he's describing the weather, and not
the wrath of the Spider-Verse's single most heavily armed PI with a screw or two coming
loose.

''specially the black-and-white one. That guy's packing some serious heat. Y'know, I really
would not want to be on the business end of all that firepower. Just sayin'...'

He's not exaggerating or kidding. As whichever unlucky souls wind up on the receiving end
of the coming storm will find out - soon.

Of course, he reckons they'll probably live... to regret it.

Out of nowhere (ham-merspace, really), he pulls an all too familiar signboard, loudly
proclaiming 'ANY SECOND NOW... KABOOM!'

The guard rolls her eyes. Everyone's seen this one before...

... only some of them may never see it again - if they ain't lucky (that is, if he doesn't do
something about it fast).
 Another guard staggers into the doorway, a dagger savagely jammed into his neck. The
hapless random Spider can only sputter a few blood-choked gurgles before pitching face-first
onto the ground.

Before the guard can even start feeling shocked, an exquisitely tinned triple-salvo of revolver
slugs perforates her chest. Simultaneously, a detonation rips the facility's roof clean away,
with a blazing orange fireball flourish fit for the most gloriously violent Wile E Coyote
scenes, revealing the welcome sight of Peni's SP//dr, freshly restored to its original red-blue-
black configuration from their collider gizmo escapade. As the mech scoops Ham up (none
too gently) from his cell, and Peni welcomes him with her most winsome smile and double
victory signs - which, of course, he gladly makes sure to return - he urgently chastises his
decidedly more bloodthirsty partner: 'Hey, Peter! Don't forget the first aid!'

It's that rare movie where the prisoner saves the guards from obliteration (or exsanguination,
depending on whichever misfortune befalls them).

'Oh. Right.'

The World War 1 veteran, suitably chastised, delivers his usual unfazed reaction, followed up
with a half-mumbled 'Sorry, Peter.' Then hurriedly reaches into his trench coat and draws out
several dressings, hastily applies them to the guards' apparently grievous injuries, and trusts
in their healing factors (and - maybe - God) to keep them from joining the great Miguel in the
sky.

'And don't think I didn't see ya rolling those pearly whites behind those lenses, pal!' Good ol'
Ham, Noir muses dryly. Ever the scold, even when he's the Spider-Verse's happiest ham alive.

Noir just can't get upset - the best he can deliver is a feigned annoyance while grumbling:
'Yeah, yeah...'

Glancing down at his erstwhile captors, Ham just must quip: '"Told ya so" doesn't even start
to describe it...'

Ham makes this one fact plain, because Spider-Man Noir is as inevitable and implacable as
nature itself. It's simply his nature.

Chapter End Notes

After all that grimness in the first two chapters, I reckoned this was a good time to
interject some comic relief. And who better to do it than the original 'B-team' from
ITSV? (I say 'B-team' with all respect and love - even if they ain't the 'main' trio of
Miles, Gwen, and Peter, they're awesome.)

Also, I realise I'm probably taking some licence with the limits of Spider healing factors,
but I just couldn't pass up the chance for some dark humour with them, in the same vein
as Deadpool and Wolverine utterly shredding the Deadpool Corps in Deadpool 3.
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!