A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

(Sections of this chapter's dialogue were taken from the show Haunting of Hill House)

Screaming Meemie

Peter blinked hard, shaking his head, but the figure didn't leave. Instead, she stepped forward, revealing her bright red lipstick and a black headband. From her ears hung two long diamond earrings, and she gave him a winning smile. "Hi there, sweetie." She greeted, placing a hand on the doorframe. Peter scooted back against the headboard as she approached, but found himself frozen in place when she reached out a hand tipped with long red fingernails, fingers gently touching the side of his face and tilting his chin up to look at her. He could feel her! Could feel the gentle press of her fingers into his skin. "You are a looker, aren't you, doll? Look at those baby browns. I'll bet the girls just line up for you, huh?"

He shuddered, body flooded with cold, and she dropped her hand, still smiling. Still looking so friendly and just a little amused. "Don't worry, sugar. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You tried." He bit out, pushing the covers away and glaring at her as he tried to scoot to the other side of the bed.

Poppy gave him a funny little smile. "Oh, Peter...I'd never hurt you."

Somehow, his name coming from her lips was worse than the nicknames, and he flinched. "You tried to drop a chandelier on Cassie! And you tried to get Steve to kill me!" His voice was loud, and he was sure that someone would hear him, but the house was just as silent as usual.

The woman cocked her head, lips twitching. "Come on, sugar. I want to show you something." Peter just stared at her and she tilted her head once more, urging him forward. "Shake a leg."

To his own surprise, he found himself throwing his legs over the other side of the bed, shivering at the rush of cold air. Outside of his window was black, no sign of a moon or stars. Moving hesitantly, he followed Poppy who waited for him, feeling weirdly light...like he wasn't in his body at all. She strolled down the hall like she owned the place, looking briefly at the paintings on the wall, sometimes trailing her hand along a tapestry, and Peter followed a few steps behind, glancing at the closed doors of Mr. Stark and Scott. Would they wake up if he screamed? Would Poppy get angry? She didn't seem angry...just in a hurry to get somewhere. Finally, she came to a room, pausing with a hand pressed to the wood, then pushed it open.

And then they were in the room that Mr. Stark had led Peter a couple of days ago, the card table with the LEGOs on one side and tablets with sketched out plans on the other. In the windowsill, the red rose still sat in its vase. Some part of him thought that he should be worried. There were plans for his suit and the Iron Man armor scattered around...stuff they'd brought from the lab. But she just laughed a little, turning in a circle. "I love what you've done with the room." Poppy ran her fingers over the backs of one of their chairs, then eyed the tablet on one table. "It was a dressing room for me. And then a nursery."

That's when it hit him...the weird feeling and the fact that he hadn't woken anyone. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

The woman tilted her head, the lights above making a soft humming sound. She wore a teal dress that seemed to be made of satin, all shiny and clingy, and it just brushed the floor. "Of course you are. I'm a dream, and so are you, and so are we." The woman looked at him earnestly, hands pressed to her heart. Then she laughed a little, and he was sure he heard something...a horn honking. People talking just outside. "And this room! I could swear I hear the sounds of the city. I do miss the sounds of the city, don't you? The car horns always made me laugh." She sat down in Mr. Stark's chair at the card table, sitting back and crossing her knees. "But you know all about that. New York, right? Now that's a town."

Peter just stared at her, eyes darting to the papers that sat on the table and the tablets and all the things he and Mr. Stark had worked on together, knowing he should be more scared than he was. The woman watched him before giving a little laugh. "Come, sit. Don't worry about all those boring papers. God knows I can't figure them out. You men and your science." There was something almost mocking in her smile as she gestured to the chair he'd sat in at the card table. "Sit." She ordered again, and so he did, folding himself in the chair and sitting back, trying to keep his distance.

Poppy stared at the half-finished Star Trek LEGO model, a finger idly running over the side. "My boy would have loved these. He always did like a good magic story." Then her eyes were on him again, her little smile turning soft. "Oh, sweetie...you're just beat aren't you? You want to talk about it?"

Peter shook his head, knowing despite his lack of fear in this dream that might not be a dream that talking to her about anything was a bad idea. "I'm fine." He told her, voice reserved even to his own ears.

Poppy folded her hands. "It's your dream, Peter." Then she froze, standing abruptly and turning toward one of the bookshelves. "Oh. I…" She moved toward the bookshelf beside their work table and gestured to the wall. "I had one crib about here, I think. I painted little boats on it. Blue boats, so he'd float off the sleep and dream of blue water." The woman's voice had gone soft, almost sad. He was so happy in that crib and it broke me...it just broke me to see it empty."

To his own surprise, Peter felt a stab of sympathy. Empty? Pushing himself to his feet, he started to approach her, glancing over at the closed door and wishing it would open...wishing he didn't have to be alone in this room with this grieving, possibly crazy woman who might or might not have been a dream.

The woman spun around to Peter, reaching out to him with an outstretched hand. "You try and try to keep them safe. All you can do, really...but it's so hard. Your father would know, it's so hard and you can't really keep your children safe." Poppy finally approached him, touching his cheek once more with just her fingertips.

"My father?" He asked in a shaky voice, leaning back a little. She smiled and dropped her arm.

"Or whatever you call him. He'd do anything to keep you safe. And when I tried to tell him what to do…" She shook her head with a little laugh, the same mocking sound as before. "Oh, you know how men are, especially when they start reading about science...they just don't listen anymore. But losing a child, there's nothing worse than that. He knows that...or he will."

"Are you...do you mean Mr. Stark?" Peter's heart thudded in his chest, the fear coming back now. "Why would he know that? Is something going to happen to his baby?" He demanded.

"He's having a dream, right now, that he's lost his boy." She went on, not seeming to hear him. "His little boy...the apple of his eye, that one." Poppy reached out and tapped him on the nose like he was a baby. "Such a sweet boy, ready to be a big brother. But he can't keep his little boy safe because the world wants to take him away and no matter how many monsters he kills, there will always be another one." She leaned in, eyes wide and earnest. "I had a dream like that about my little boy too once. I once dreamed his little legs stopped working...they just stopped one day. And he couldn't walk. And he couldn't stand. And he couldn't speak. And then he couldn't do anything but cry." She turned away from him, moving back toward the place where the crib had been, voice going hard. "Cry and bang on the walls. Bang on the walls for help and bang on the walls for Mamma. Bang, bang bang!"

Poppy shook her head but continued before he could cut in. "And he couldn't even see. In the end he couldn't see me there with him. And then he stopped banging and he stopped crying...he stopped it all once he died. I held him so long he went cold in my arms just like your father is for his little boy...he's holding his boy in his arms but he's cold and still and...he's gone."

Her shoulders were stiff and for a moment they shook...he was sure that she would cry. Could ghosts cry? But instead of sobbing, she gave a little giggle, turning to face him with a clear face once more.

"But that was just a dream. Just a dream. The worst dream. A screaming meemie. But then I woke up. And my boy was safe in his little bed." She put a hand on his shoulder, gesturing for him to turn around, and he did...and they weren't in the room anymore. They were on the landing of his treehouse, standing at the top of the ladder and looking down at the forest. "Your father will wake up, and you'll wake up, and you'll both be safe in your beds. He'd do anything for you, you know? Anything for his boy."

He turned to her just as his senses screamed, his whole body filling with adrenaline that made his fingers and toes prickle. She was different...her face was old and wrinkled, hair graying, eyes a milky white. "What…" He started, taking a step back...but there was nothing there. Nothing under his foot but empty air and he was falling, arm outstretched as he reached for her, but she only watched him, fingers gripping the railing and then…there was something around his neck.

Peter grabbed the rope, his senses guiding his body without his brain seeming to understand what was happening. One moment, something was tightening around his neck. The next, he was falling again, a frayed rope trailing behind him.

Peter gasped as he hit the ground, his breath gone as he blinked up at the ceiling...at the spiral staircase that twisted up to the second-floor landing. Mouth open, he closed his eyes, willing his lungs to work again, right as a hand grabbed his shoulders, yanking him up and into someone's arms and pulling roughly at whatever had been around his already-sore throat until it was pulled over his head, and a soft thump at his side told him that it had landed on the floor.

"Peter! Peter!"

A hand pounded his back and he gasped for air that suddenly came, letting out a ragged cough then dropped his head onto the man's shoulder. Mr. Stark. It was Mr. Stark. And Peter...Peter was in the library at the base of the spiral staircase, shivering in the dark, back aching from the bruise he was sure to have now, a noose attached to a piece of tattered rope at his side.

"Peter!" The man cried again, his large, warm hand pressing against Peter's cheek, and Peter was stunned to feel wetness there, running down his face.

"Mr. Stark?" He asked, voice a little wheezy.

"You fell...I thought...god, Peter." Mr. Stark yanked him forward into his arms again, rocking them both back and forth where they sat on the floor. "What the hell happened? What is that?" He asked, pointing at the noose on the floor without letting go of Peter. The man was crying, Peter realized then. Mr. Stark's shoulders shook as he held him so tightly, and Peter's next words came out in a whisper.

"I had a nightmare...and you did too."

The man pulled away for just a moment, hands resting on Peter's shoulder, and he could see in Mr. Stark's eyes that it was true. They were haunted...red-rimmed and so afraid, and Peter leaned his head against his shoulder again, letting himself be held. "She told me." Peter murmured, words muffled against Mr. Stark's shirt. "She told me you had a nightmare that your boy died and you were holding him but he wouldn't wake up."

A hand came around to the back of his head, holding him close and Mr. Stark sniffed, obviously trying to get a hold of himself. It wasn't working, though. He just held Peter like he had on that battlefield right before the snap that had ended the war with Thanos...like he was amazed that Peter could be alive and like he'd never let him go. After a moment, Mr. Stark pressed a kiss to the side of his head, giving him one last tight squeeze before pulling away just enough to look him up and down, and then at the rope beside them.

"A nightmare?" He confirmed.

Peter nodded. "I was with Poppy. She must have…" He trailed off, touching his tender neck with a finger. Mr. Stark covered Peter's hand with his own, squinting to examine his neck which was already covered in bruises.

"You weren't…" The man hesitated. "You weren't trying to…"

Peter felt his eyes go wide. "No! Of course not! I was asleep and then...then I was falling…" Peter looked up, following the staircase to the top of the landing with his eyes. Halfway between the floor and the landing, a rope dangled, swaying back and forth just a little. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek, regaining his attention.

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah...just sore."

Mr. Stark snorted a little, eyes wide and incredulous. "I'll bet you are." He ruffled Peter's messy hair, then left his hand on the side of his head, erasing the memory of Poppy's cold fingers. As he stared at Peter, first at his face and then at his neck, he seemed to come to a decision. "That's enough near-death experiences for my taste. We have to get out of this house. We'll leave tomorrow, okay? I don't care what Fury says...we'll find a new place to hide out on our own if we have to."

Peter nodded, wiping at his eyes uselessly. The tears were still falling, no matter how much he wanted them to stop, and his hands shook at his sides, teeth chattering, but not from the cold. Mr. Stark squeezed his shoulder, running a thumb under his eye. "You're okay." He promised softly, but Peter wasn't sure if he was consoling himself or Peter. "You're alright."

"I'm okay." He agreed, then glanced at the moon-lit night. It wasn't like his dream...there were stars in the sky, and a huge full moon lit the trees and fields outside the window. "What time is it?"

"Only about 1. Why don't we get you some water before we head back to bed, huh?"

Peter didn't want to go back to bad. His senses were still making his hair stand on end, hands shaking as Mr. Stark pulled him to his feet, a gentle hand coming around to touch his back. Still, he followed the man to the kitchen, bringing a hand up to rub at his neck.

"Do you want to call Bruce?" Mr. Stark asked, giving him a worried look. "He can take another look at you."

"Maybe after we're out of here," Peter suggested, yawning a little but trying to stifle it. It was still dark out, his senses seemed to be reminding him. This house wasn't safe after dark. He shuddered, moving a little closer to Mr. Stark who threw an arm over his shoulders. They couldn't get him if Mr. Stark was with him.

"We'll pack in the morning, okay? We can be gone by noon."

Peter nodded, but the two froze as Mr. Stark flipped on the light, the man's arm tightening around Peter protectively. Steve sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, shoulders slumped.

"Steve?" Mr. Stark called, pulling Peter backward just a little. Peter started to shrug him off and move closer, but Mr. Stark's fingers closed around his shirt and he sent Peter a sharp look. "Stay," he mouthed before turning back to Peter. "Rogers? Hey! You sleepwalking again?"

Steve turned to them, blinking in surprise, then shook his head. "Oh." He muttered, eyes flicking briefly to Peter. "I...I thought…" Steve rubbed a rueful hand over his face. "I thought you were Cassie."

"What?" Peter glanced over at Mr. Stark, cocking his head.

"I thought...she was saying something about a tea party." Steve sighed. "Or maybe I was sleepwalking again. I keep having these weird dreams..."

Mr. Stark seemed to relax a little, patting Peter on the back before moving over to the refrigerator. "We're getting out of this house. Tomorrow." He told the other man as Peter stepped inside the kitchen, keeping a watchful eye on Steve. He didn't see Poppy anywhere...still, he couldn't help being nervous. Something was wrong. The house wasn't going to just let them leave...he could feel it in his chest. Poppy wouldn't just let them leave.

"Peter? Are you okay?" Steve was watching him closely, obviously worried.

"Yeah, I just…" Peter tried to give him a smile, taking the glass of water that Mr. Stark handed him with a muttered thanks. "Cassie was in here?"

"I don't know." Steve shook his head, running his hand through his hair. Usually, his hair was perfectly slicked back and styled...now it stood on end, an obvious sign of his frustration. "I keep having these dreams and I never...it's hard to know what's real sometimes." It obviously pained him to admit it, and Peter felt for him...he knew what it was like to wonder what was real. To feel like he was going crazy. But he couldn't make himself say any of that...couldn't bring himself to reassure Steve when something was so obviously wrong. He could feel it in his chest and up and down his spine. More than ever, he wished they'd been able to set up Friday so he could ask where everyone was. Where Cassie was.

Poppy wasn't going to let them leave. She wanted them to stay. Wanted Peter to stay. His brain worked overtime as he stared at his glass of water. The room with the red door they'd never been able to open. The treehouse with the red bird. The room where he'd worked with Mr. Stark with the red rose. The room Steve had been in with the red chair. It all meant something. These rooms that they'd spent so much time in...the way Peter had felt after leaving the treehouse...how he'd forget to eat. How Steve had spent so much time alone and...how he'd been talking to someone. There were dots he just couldn't figure out how to connect.

Until he looked at the counter where Cassie always kept her teacup...her cup of stars. It wasn't there. Blinking in confusion, he put his own water down and moved over to the counter, passing both Mr. Stark and Steve without a word.

"Kiddo? You okay?" Mr. Stark asked. But he couldn't bring himself to answer. Something was wrong.

The house wasn't going to let them go. Not without a fight. Poppy wanted them to stay.

Peter stared at the empty counter, then over at the bags. He opened one, ignoring how his hand shook, then found himself staring at an empty box of rat poison.

Rat poison. Cassie. A tea party.

Poppy urging him to wake up.

The glass hit the floor, shattering by his bare feet and probably cutting him, but he didn't care. Ignoring Mr. Stark and Steve as they called after him, he shoved his way past them and ran, flat out, heart pounding. The red room! Cassie was in the red room! The treehouse and the room with the vase and Steve's reading room...they'd all been in the red room the whole time!

"Peter!" Mr. Stark called, following after him, but he couldn't slow down or explain...couldn't make himself speak at all as he moved through the living room and then into the library. The rooms were cold...full. Loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see figures peeking through doorways, watching him run. But he didn't care. Not about any of them.

He only cared about Cassie.

Peter leapt, grabbing the railing and pulling himself upright, wishing he had his webshooters as he landed on his toes, then leapt to the next level of the spiral staircase until he was on the landing, Mr. Stark's feet pounding as he raced after him.

The door to the red room was open. Peter ran as if in slow motion, blood roaring in his ears as he ran down the corridor that seemed to only get longer the faster he ran. But finally, finally, he was able to shove open the door. Inside, the walls seemed to be covered in mold, the wallpaper covered in creeping vines with red flowers. Peter didn't care about any of that, though. He only cared about the girl sitting at one end of the table, a teacup with stars painted on the sides in her hands. Beside her, Poppy knelt down, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Take a drink, sugar, and you'll wake up." The woman urged. Cassie stared into the teacup, bringing it closer and closer to her lips…

"Don't!" Peter screamed, reaching her just in time to knock it out of her hands. Cassie gasped, jerking backwards in her chair, and the cup shattered on the floor just like his glass of water. "Cassie? Did you drink any?" He demanded, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

As if waking up from a dream, Cassie blinked at him, then shook her head, eyes filling with tears. "Where...where are we?" She asked, looking around the room and gripping Peter's arm with a shaky hand. "I was in the treehouse and…"

"Come on." He urged, pulling her to his feet just in time for Mr. Stark to reach the door, panting a little and looking at the room in confusion.

"Is this the…" But the man cut himself off, stiffening when he caught sight of the third person in the room. Poppy stood to her full height, eyes flashing, hands in fists at her sides. "Pete, is she…"

Peter grabbed Cassie's arm and pushed her behind him, taking a step back toward the door. "We're leaving." He told Poppy, making his voice firm and trying to stop it from shaking. Behind him, he heard Mr. Stark move closer.

"Come on, kid. Let's go." Mr. Stark called, moving into the room. Poppy turned to him, looking past Peter and Cassie with a sad smile.

"You can't protect him out there."

"Cassie, go find your dad and wake him up. Hurry." Mr. Stark urged, and Peter heard her retreating footsteps as Mr. Stark put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him backward and angling his body in front of Peter's. "Let's go. We'll get our stuff later."

"You try and you try to keep them safe but you can't. You can't keep them safe, no matter how hard you try." She shook her head, reaching out to them...beseeching them. "All of this could be a dream. You can still wake up…"

"Yeah, I don't think so." Mr. Stark snapped, pulling Peter closer and leading both of them toward the door behind them. "We're getting the fuck out of this place."

"They'll take him away. They'll take him away from you! You can't keep him safe!"

Mr. Stark faltered for just a moment, then shook his head, pulling them through the red door, then slamming it shut, as if that could keep her inside. "Come on." He urged, pushing Peter toward the staircase. Together, they stumbled onto the spiral staircase, Peter glancing back, but Mr. Stark shook his head. "Don't look back, kid. Just go."

"I think...I think she lost her son." Peter started to explain, but Mr. Stark shook his head.

"Don't care. I'm not losing mine. Now come on!"

Peter started to pause, trying to take that in, but he was distracted by Steve who stood in the middle of the living room. "Peter? Tony, what…"

"We have to get Rhodey! Did Cassie…" Before Mr. Stark could finish his sentence, Cassie started to run down the stairs, dragging her tired-looking father.

"What's going on?" Scott asked through a yawn, one hand in Cassie's as she pulled him along with her.

"Go start the car! Take Cassie. I'm going to go get Rhodey!" Mr. Stark called, pointing to the front door. "Peter, go with…"

"No way!" Peter cried. "I'm not leaving you in here!"

It seemed like the man was about to argue, but instead, he just shook his head, jerking his chin for Peter to follow. "Fine. Let's go. Stay close."

Peter could hear Cassie telling her father and Steve what had happened, but all he cared about at the moment was waking Rhodey and getting out of Hill House. As they reached the second-floor landing, Peter came to a sliding stop, Mr. Stark barely a step behind him as he bumped into his back. One of the doors opened, and a boy in a wheelchair rolled himself out, milky eyes coming up to look at the two of them. "I think that's…"

"Don't care." Mr. Stark grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. "We've got one mission, Pete, and that's to get the hell out of here. Now come on!"

Peter stood outside of Jim's room while Mr. Stark rushed in, keeping an eye out for Poppy. It only took a moment for the man to tug and grumbling, obviously exhausted Rhodey out of bed. Peter was peeking in, watching as Mr. Stark helped Rhodey with his braces, when he remembered his phone. "Oh...I'll be right back!" He called, turning to run to his room.

"Peter!" Mr. Stark snapped, but Peter was already on his way down the hall.

"Get down the stairs! I'll be right there!'

The man swore behind him as Peter pulled his bedroom door open, heading straight for his bedside table where his phone sat. Grabbing it and dropping it in his pocket, he turned, ready to run once more when he heard the whisper from the horn beside his bed. "Peter...Peter, wait!" It called, the voice raspy and weak, but he didn't care. He didn't have time to sit and try to figure out who was calling him.

Peter pulled the door open, finding himself face to face with Mr. Stark who reached out, grabbing his arm and yanking him forward. "Let's go!" He ordered. "I thought you wanted out of this place!"

"I had to get my phone!"

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I would have gotten you a new phone!"

Rhodey was making his way down the stairs when they caught up, and he turned to them with a lifted eyebrow. "Are you two seeing that?"

Peter followed his gaze and faltered a little, spotting Poppy in the living room at the base of the stairs. She was staring straight at Tony, coming closer as Rhodey limped to the bottom landing, then down the last two stairs to the main floor. "Just keep going." Mr. Stark urged, pushing the two of them toward the front door that still stood open. Outside, the cars sat in the driveway, both running and waiting for them.

"You can't protect him!" She practically begged. She was old again, face partially decayed as she reached out her hands to them. "You try and you try but you can't protect him! You can still wake up. Both of you! This could all be a dream, a screaming meemie, and you can wake up and you can keep him safe forever! If you take him out there, they'll get him! The world will get him and they'll tear him apart, and you'll lose him!"

Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders, pulling away from Poppy. "You can't have my kid. You understand me? We're leaving. You can have your house but you're not getting my kid."

"You can still wake up…"

"I'm awake!" Mr. Stark snapped. "You're not awake. You're dead. Your child is dead, and you're dead and I'm sorry, I really am." He sounded it for a moment as he ushered Peter toward the door. "But you can't have mine."

And then they were outside, the huge door slamming shut behind them, and Tony was opening the back door to the car that Steve was driving, Rhodey, Scott, and Cassie ready to go in the other car. Peter climbed in, scooting over as quickly as he could so that Mr. Stark could get in, and then Mr. Stark's arms were around him, a hand pressed to the back of his head just like earlier. How long had it been? It felt like hours but Peter knew it couldn't have been that long since he'd woken up on the floor of the library at the foot of the spiral staircase.

"Pete?" Mr. Stark asked, pulling away just long enough to touch Peter's cheek. "You okay?"

Peter nodded as they drove down the drive, glancing back through the back windshield and staring at the house he hoped he never saw again. In the window, Poppy placed her hand against the glass, watching them leave, and he shuddered a little. "Yeah...I'm good. Are you…"

"I'm fine, kid." Mr. Stark told him with an affectionate eye roll, ruffling his hair and chuckling. As Steve pulled up to the gate, climbing out to unlock it, Peter curled up in the back seat, resting his head on Mr. Stark's shoulder.

"So…" Peter muttered, watching Steve approach the gate on foot at a jog. "I'm your...uh...your child?"

The man snorted, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "Surely you knew that by now, Pete."

Peter shrugged, feeling giddy with relief as Steve climbed back into the car, hitting the gas and driving through the front gate, leaving Hill House in the dust. "It's just good to hear." He murmured, and Mr. Stark scooted over a little, pulling Peter down to lay his head in his lap, a hand running through his hair.

"Get some sleep, buddy. We've still got a ways to go before we get to the closest hotel."

"Are you sure Nick Fury is okay with us leaving?"

"Hey, if he has a problem with it, he can go live in that creepy-ass house and we'll stay at his place.

And as Steve pulled off the drive and onto the road, Peter felt his senses go silent for the first time in what felt like months. Closing his eyes, he slipped easily into sleep with Mr. Stark's fingers gently working their way through his hair.

The End

Thank you for reading!