Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 1: Damon Drake

[Damon Drakes POV] 


When people think about reincarnation, they often imagine a fresh start—a new beginning, a clean slate. They picture the excitement of starting over, of experiencing life through a different lens. But what they rarely consider, what almost no one talks about, is the life left behind.


They don’t think about the world they’ve exited, the connections they’ve severed, the people who mattered most. When you’re the one reincarnated, it’s easy to feel as though you’ve moved on, like your story has started anew. But what happens to everyone else? Do they just vanish from existence? Do their stories end simply because yours has taken a new turn?


These were the questions that haunted me. Especially during the early days of my reincarnation. Waking up in a strange new world, in a body that wasn’t mine, surrounded by people I didn’t know—it wasn’t some fantastical adventure. It was terrifying. I felt isolated, helpless, and painfully aware of the life I could never return to. I was reduced to relying on two adult strangers for everything.


I wasn’t filled with wonder or joy at the idea of a new life. Instead, I was consumed by grief for the one I’d lost. I mourned the people I loved—the ones I would never see again.


It didn’t feel like I died that day. No. It felt like they did.


Most of all, I mourned my sister—my older sister. The person I was closer to than anyone else in the world. Closer even than to our parents. She wasn’t just my sibling; she was like a second mother, someone who stepped in when no one else would. She raised me. She gave up her dreams for my sake.


She sacrificed everything—her time, her freedom, her future—just so I could have a shot at mine. And how did I repay her?


I died.


I never got to thank her properly. I never got to give her the life she deserved, the one I always swore I’d provide once I got older. I left her behind in a world that didn’t value her enough, and I’ve never been able to forgive myself for it. Even after fifteen years of living in this new world, her memory never faded.


I still miss her. God, I miss her so much. And the universe knows it.


But the world doesn’t wait for me to grieve. Time pushes forward, indifferent to the ache in my heart. Life moves on, whether you want it to or not. At first, I rejected my new family entirely. I was cold, distant. After all, I had already had a family—I didn’t want a replacement.


But fifteen years is a long time. Even the deepest wounds begin to scab over eventually. As much as I tried to resist it, I began to care. Not because I wanted to—but because I was human. We all crave connection, even when it hurts.


So I adjusted. Gradually. Unwillingly.


I found myself part of a family that, while imperfect, tried. A mother and father who, despite being constantly busy, made efforts to be present. That alone was new to me. Then there were the siblings: Dane, the oldest and a bit of a show-off; Daphne, the second oldest and the most affected; and lastly Danielle, the youngest out of all of us, but is by far the smartest… She tried at least.


Yeah, our parents had a thing for naming us all with “D’s” to match our last name. A weird quirk, but kind of charming in its own way.


And if that wasn’t odd enough, my reincarnation seemed to come with... some cosmetic quirks. As if the universe wanted to leave a mark on me. I didn’t turn into an actual albino, but I may as well have. My hair was now snow white, my eyes a piercing blue. Not exactly subtle. Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover it.


“Damon! Get down or you'll be late!” My father's voice rang through the house.


“I'll be down in a bit!” I shouted back, frowning at my reflection in the mirror.


I finished adjusting my headphones around my neck and pulled my black hoodie halfway over my head, casting a small shadow over my strange hair.


I turned toward my bed—a chaotic mess of textbooks and notebooks—and started packing my bag. “Did not miss waking up early for school. Especially not for the second time in my life,” I muttered under my breath.


As I zipped up my bag, something caught my eye—a folded piece of paper buried beneath it.


“Huh?” I picked it up.


It was a permission slip. Right. I had to get this thing signed. Another joy of repeating adolescence.


I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way toward the door. My room, large and luxurious, looked like something out of a magazine. I didn’t bother making my bed—why should I? We had maids and cleaners for that.


Yay luxury.


But just as my fingers touched the doorknob, I stopped. 


Old habits.


I sighed, turned around, and went back to make my bed. It felt wrong to leave it that way, even if it wasn’t my job anymore.


Some things never really leave you. No matter how many lives you get. 


After finishing up in my room, I headed down the long, winding staircase that led from the lower floors to the main level of the house. My footsteps echoed faintly as I descended, the morning light pouring in through tall windows, casting soft shadows across the polished floors. Eventually, I made my way toward the dining room, where my new family was already gathered around the breakfast table.


Well, most of them, anyway.


Dane wasn’t there—he had moved out a few months ago. Being the oldest, he was already living on his own, fully independent. That didn’t stop him from dropping by every now and then, usually unannounced and often just to raid the fridge or tease us.


“Why is it always such a mission to drag you down in the mornings?” my mother asked the moment I entered the room. Her voice was crisp, professional, but laced with affection. She was already dressed for work in her usual lawyer suit—navy blue with a subtle pinstripe—and her onyx-black hair fell loose in soft curls at the ends.


“I’m not a morning person,” I muttered in response, dropping into the seat between my two sisters.


Danielle, the youngest, sat to my right. She was practically a carbon copy of our mother—same thick black hair, same sharp blue eyes. Daphne, my other sister, sat to my left. She was more of a blend, with our dad’s dirty blond hair and our mom’s striking eyes.


Dane, the absent sibling, looked like a full-on replica of our father—a tall man with sandy blond hair and sea-green eyes. Dad worked as a detective, which sounded cooler than it actually was, according to him. He was the kind of guy who could look intense just by standing still, but right now he looked more concerned with the permission slip I slid across the table.


“Can one of you sign this?” I asked casually, nudging the paper toward the nearest adult hand.


Dad reached for it. “What’s this?” he asked, his brow creasing as he read it over. “A science trip to Oscorp? Since when are you interested in science?”


“I’m not. I just hate being in class more,” I said, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite without looking up.


Danielle scoffed beside me, twirling her fork in her scrambled eggs. “Fair,” Dad said with a half-smile, shrugging as he set the paper aside. “I’ll sign it once we’re done with breakfast.”


Daphne stood and began collecting her things, brushing crumbs from her skirt. “I’ve got morning classes,” she said while slinging her bag over her shoulder. “If I don’t leave now, I’m gonna be late.”


She leaned down to ruffle my hair—an infuriating habit of hers that I tolerated only because she was Daphne. “Later, everyone!” she called as she exited the room.


Once she was gone, the quiet hum of conversation died down. Danielle was too busy scrolling through her phone to be bothered with anything else. Occasionally, she would smirk or laugh at something on the screen, but otherwise she was in her own little world.


After a few more minutes, our mom glanced at her watch and sighed. “Time for me to head out too,” she said, standing and adjusting her blazer. “I’ll leave the drop-off duty to you, honey,” she told Dad before moving around the table.


She always tried to make time for us—even if it was just something simple like eating breakfast together. She kissed Dad on the cheek, then did the same to each of us. I flinched slightly, but she just chuckled at my discomfort. It was her way of reminding me that she cared—even if I wasn’t always ready to accept it.


“Your lunches are packed and on the counter—don’t forget them!” she called over her shoulder as she headed out the door, heels clicking against the tile as her car pulled away moments later.


“And then there were three,” Dad said, clapping his hands lightly. “Alright, grab your things, make sure you’ve got everything, and meet me by the car. I’ll go sign this form in the meantime.”


Danielle and I let out a mutual sigh as we stood up, backpacks already slung over our shoulders. We shuffled over to the kitchen counter to grab our packed lunches—wrapped neatly and labeled with our names, thanks to Mom—and stepped outside.


Her car had already pulled down the long driveway, disappearing past the gates. Ours waited in its usual spot, engine quietly running, the interior already cooled and ready for the day ahead.