Everyone forgets Peter Parker exists.
Peter Parker - for all intents and purposes never existed - doesn’t exist.
He never went to Midtown High, never got outed to the world, never built a lego death star with Ned, never kissed MJ, never found Tony Stark in his bedroom waiting for him - threats and promises on his tongue.
Peter Parker - forgotten. That's the deal.
It seemed like a fair price to pay to fix the damage he caused.
It seemed a small price to pay to save not only the world but the multiverse.
Peter stared at MJ and Ned, the only family he had left and promised them it would be okay - the half truth tasted sour as he spoke and he was sure they believed the bitter words as much as he did.
Peter looked up, glancing at the golden rings of the spell as he looked to Steven. The wizard nodded, resignation and respect staining his grimace. Peter was out of time. Peter couldn't face seeing the blank looks on his friends faces, couldn't stand to hear the questions of who he was - not now, not so soon after May, not so soon after the fight. So he ran, or more accurately - webbed, away.
He felt the spell collapse inwards, his spidey sense sending shockwaves of warning throughout his body as the magic sped outwards, erasing Peter Parker from everyone's mind.
Spiderman stopped swinging abruptly, echoes of his spidey sense reverberating through his bones. Spiderman shook his head as he landed, something wasn’t right, something was wrong, very, very wrong. Only he didn’t know what. Spiderman shook his head again, his hands coming up to cradle his head as he stumbled backwards and sank against a wall.
He took a deep breath, calming his racing senses as he went through what he remembered. They saved the intruders from another universe, him and the other Spiderman's, Ned and MJ had helped, Dr Strange too. Then before that he’d - he’d - he’d -.
Spiderman shook his head, disjointed fragments of memories that didn't fit together filled his head, he was Spiderman - he was Spiderman, he’d been unmasked to the world as - as - as -.
Spiderman slapped his palms against his head as if it would reboot his memories - why didn’t he know his own name? Why couldn't he picture his own face? He knew he was Spiderman, that much he was sure of - he remembered swinging through the city, he remembered webbing bad guys, he remembered Ned and MJ’s voice in his ear as he swung, he remembered the avengers, he remembered the snap - Starks face above him as his body fought the disintegration and the only thought he had was - was - was -.
Spiderman grunted in frustration and slammed his hand into the wall behind him as panic filled him, fear sweeping into his lungs like liquid and desperation crushing his chest more efficiently than any building.
Pushing the heels of his palm into his eyes he counted to ten, taking deep breaths as the panic receded.
Why didn’t he know who he was? Had he hit his head? Was it the green goblin? Or was it a side effect of meeting more Spiderman's?
Flashes of gold stabbed through his mind and Spiderman pushed the heels of his palm further into his eyes, white spots filling his vision when he took the pressure away.
He focused on the gold, the flicker of a memory stabbing his brain.
Dr Strange’s face as he spread his arms.
The golden runes in the sky.
The purple cracks in reality.
Spiderman screaming at Dr Strange.
A spell.
The same spell that had brought the others here? But twisted? Changed somehow?
Spiderman hissed as pain lanced his head. Snarling as the memory tried to slip past him. Spiderman grunted, grasping at the sharp fragments of hazy memory.
The spell.
The changed spell.
Spiderman clenched his teeth against the pain as he dragged the memory back, the jagged edges of the fragment ripping into his brain as he forced himself to remember.
The spell, golden rings and his spidey sense sending shockwaves down his spine.
A spell to save the multiverse, to save everyone.
A spell to forget him.
Spiderman gasped, reeling backwards, inadvertently sending himself crashing through the brinks behind him. As the memory settled into his brain, sharp edges stilling as he let it go.
The whole world forgets him and in exchange the multiverse gets to live.
Spiderman’s faceted identity cleaved in two, the parts that aren't Spiderman scattered in the wind like wisps of burning paper. The death of half of himself in exchange for all other life. Spiderman panted as these truths settled, his laboured breaths sending small clouds of brick dust whirling in new directions, shooting away from him like the other half of him, dancing in the light, caught up in the storms his troubled breaths created.