Runaways ~ NC17 ~ Liam/Spike (William) ~ AU Human ~ Chapter 5
Here you go, the next installment. I know I'm behind in comments, but I promise I'll get to them today.
Title: Runaways
Authors: angelspike69 and anamcara420
Pairing: Liam/Spike (William)
Rating: Adult. This story contains M/M sex. If that isn’t your cup of tea then go away now and don’t read any farther.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Angel and Spike don’t belong to us. If they did, they’d be following up all their fighting and snarking with each other with lots of manly shagging.
Spoilers: No spoilers at all as this is a story that takes place in an alternate universe where our boys are totally human and have never been vampires. We’re not even sure if they believe in them.
Feedback: AngelSpike69 and Anamcara420
Notes: Would like to extend our sincere thanks to Makd (aka Mary) for her beta of our story (we remembered the “pickles”). You are the best sweetie!!!!! Previous chapters can be found here.
Summary: Two damaged young men meet by chance in the woods in Vermont. Through conflict and kindness and the special magic of Christmas, they stop running from their pasts and help each other to heal.
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Chapter 5
Although he still tired quickly, Spike grew stronger everyday. His skin had less pallor and his eyes were a clear, brilliant blue again. Liam and he drove into town to get Spike some clothes. Liam had picked up two pair of sweatpants, sweatshirts and heavy socks, but he wanted the younger man to choose some things himself.
Spike got out of the truck and stared up at the small building. “Dry goods? What the heck are dry goods?”
Liam laughed. “That’s an old term for a store that sells fabrics, clothes and stuff.” The older man hesitated. “There won’t be a big selection, Spike. We’ll go over to Burlington when you’re stronger.”
Spike smiled. “Been wantin’ to go to Burlington. Big city and all.”
“We’ll go before Christmas.” Liam promised.
The two men entered the dry goods store; a bell tinkled as they went in. Spike shook his head. Sodding 'Little House on the Prairie'. The young woman behind the counter smiled. “Hey, Liam. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
“Hey, Jess. This is Spike.” Liam answered.
“Oh. Hi. Heard about you. Feeling better? You look good.” She said with a wink.
Spike smiled slightly and nodded. He turned to look at Liam and rolled his eyes.
Liam laughed. Spike was not used to the ways of a tiny place like North Hero Island, where everyone pretty much knew what was going on. He knew the townspeople had speculated about him but he had kept mostly to himself. Spike’s mysterious arrival, his punkish looks and his recent stay in the hospital made both of them a dinner table topic, he was certain.
“Ah…, Jess. We’re gonna look around,” Liam said with a grin.
“Sure. Let me know if I can help. I’ll be in the back for a few minutes - checking on my mom.”
Jess’ mom had multiple sclerosis. Her dad had fled when his wife was diagnosed and the girl came home from college to care for her mother. Liam admired the girl for her devotion and was angry with her father for abandoning his family. His heart clenched as he remembered his parents…
Liam watched in amusement as Spike searched the clothing area. He could tell that he was not terribly impressed by the selection. The bleach has grown out of his hair. I like the blonde tips on his light brown hair. It’s softer. Touchable. Liam jerked away from his risky thoughts, just as Spike looked up, his face twisted in annoyance.
“I don’t see any black jeans.” He shook his head and picked up a pair of blue jeans. “Where are the T-shirts?”
Liam handed him a package of white Hanes T-shirts and couldn’t hide his smirk.
Spike’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell!”
He went into the small, curtained dressing room to try on the jeans. He came out looking chagrined. The jeans were too big. “Huh. That’s the size I wore before.”
“You’ve lost weight, Spike.” Liam said.
While Spike tried on a smaller pair of jeans, Liam walked around picking up a few other things. Spike came out of the tiny dressing room. “They fit. Gotta wash’em a bunch of times though; they’re too stiff.” He grumbled.
Liam handed him a flannel shirt. “It’s too cold just for T-shirts, Spike.” Again Liam had to hide his smile at the incredulous look on Spike's face.
“We’ll go to Burlington, Liam, yeah? These…they aren’t my kind of clothes.” Spike sad quietly.
Liam smiled and nodded. “Promise.”
The only shoes the store had were work boots and a few pairs of soft suede desert boots. Liam convinced Spike to get both. “Your boots are destroyed from the wet, Spike.”
The slender man looked broken-hearted. “Yeah, I know. They’ll have Doc Martins in Burlington. It’s a college town. They can’t all be…” He left the sentence hang as he noticed what Liam was holding up.
Liam lowered his voice. “I know you don’t usually wear underwear, but maybe a few pair?”
Spike rolled his eyes again.
“Boxers or briefs?” Liam asked as he held up a package of each.
Spike closed his eyes and sighed dramatically. Sodding underwear. Bugger. “Boxers.”
“Plaid, solid or Fleur de Lis?” Liam couldn’t help himself and he burst out laughing at the pained look on Spike's face. “Sorry. The look on your face is…” He struggled to swallow his merriment.
“Liam.” Spike said the name deadly seriously as he grabbed the package of dark solid boxers.
“You need a coat, Spike.” Liam said as they strolled around the store. “Here, how about this?” He asked holding up a black Pea coat. “It’s black.”
“Yeah, OK. Least it doesn’t have a poncey fur hood.” Spike groused.
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Spike and Liam lived in friendly camaraderie. Spike drew, read and worked with Liam in the barn. They watched films from Liam’s huge collection. Liam never asked any more questions about Spike’s life or spoke about David.
He heard a car crunch on the snow. It was probably their neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. She had been coming over frequently since he had come home from the hospital. According to Liam, her husband of fifty years had died in early autumn and she was alone. Her daughter and her family lived in Boston and they did not visit often. Mrs. Jenkins was seventy-five years old; travel was not as easy as it once was for her.
Spike had never known either of his grandmothers but he didn’t think they would have been like Mrs. Jenkins. He often thought about the generosity and sincerity of the people he had met since Liam found him in the woods several weeks ago. He experienced more kindness here than he had in his whole life. Liam, Mrs. Jenkins - neither of them had any reason to care about him. He couldn’t figure it out.
“Spike!”
Spike stood up and grinned. Bella usually sat with him when he drew and she was stretched across several of the scraps of paper he had rejected. He scratched her head and heard the deep rumbling throughout her body although she didn’t open her eyes. Her presence and soft fur were soothing and he never felt lonely when he heard her purring.
“I’m comin’, Mrs. Jenkins.”
He opened the door for the old woman. She stood on the porch with a crock-pot in her hands. He reached for it quickly and followed her into the cabin.
“What’s this then? Minestrone?” Spike asked.
“No. It’s a special treat - shrimp bisque.” The old woman answered with a smile.
“Shrimp bisque - what’s that?”
“It’s a creamy soup with shrimp. It’s a cold-weather soup. I don’t usually make it until Thanksgiving, but you need to get some meat on those bones.”
Mrs. Jenkins was unpacking things from her basket and Spike’s nose twitched and his mouth watered as the soup’s aroma wafted throughout the kitchen. He smelled the warm bread.
“I’ll call Liam.”
The old woman bustled around the kitchen and Spike went to the back door. He pulled it open to find Liam standing on the back porch, his beautiful face flushed pink with the cold. Mac bounded in, almost knocking Spike down.
“Mrs. Jenkins brought soup - shrimp something.” Spike said with a smile.
“HMMMMM - that is so good. Perfect for a cold day. Mac knows she always has a soup bone for him,” Liam answered. They watched the dog scamper up to the woman and sit at her feet.
Spike went back into the kitchen area to help Mrs. Jenkins. Liam hung up his outerwear and took off his boots and joined them. The soup’s aroma and the fragrance of warm bread filled the small cabin. Spike felt tears prick his eyes but he quickly blinked them away. This is like a sodding fairy tale! Never believed anyone lived like this.
After lunch Liam went back out to the barn. Christmas wasn’t that far away and he had quite a few orders to complete. Mrs. Jenkins sat in the chair by the fire and Spike sprawled at her feet, reading one of the books from her husband’s library.
“How do you like William Blake, Spike?” The old woman asked.
“He’s different. I don’t always know exactly what he means in his poems. Like his paintings, though. It’s weird. They look too modern for his time.”
“Yes, he was quite a visionary and he was pretty weird.” She said with a grin. “He said he had visions and he painted what he saw in them.” She continued to knit the tiny pink sweater for her soon to be born great-granddaughter. “Have you been drawing?”
Spike sat up and closed the book. “Yeah. Wanna see?”
Mrs. Jenkins was one of a very few people who had ever seen all of his art. He trusted her and he wasn’t used to trusting anyone; now he trusted Liam and Mrs. Jenkins. He brought his drawing pad over to her chair. She put down her knitting and he handed her his sketchbook and sat down beside her. She paged through the latest drawings without speaking. Finally she looked up at him. “Spike, you have great talent. The faces are so distinct. I can’t see how these are considered comics.”
“They are a different kind of comic - modern, fantasy.” He replied.
“Spike.” Her blue eyes were blurred with tears. “My eyes are old but these are…horrible things are happening in these frames.”
Spike lowered his head and spoke into the floor. “I saw this stuff happen. Saw the…the brutality.”
Mrs. Jenkins put her hand on his shoulder. “Spike. Did anything like this ever happen to you?”
Spike didn’t answer for several minutes. Finally he looked up at the old woman. “Yeah, some.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“’S OK. It’s in the past. Never goin’ back.” He looked up at the woman and gave her a slight smile. “Gave me lots of ideas to draw. Maybe I’ll be able to sell these someday.”
Spike took the sketchpad back and put it away. He sat down again and went back to his book and Mrs. Jenkins picked up her knitting. They sat in companionable silence for an hour until Liam stomped into the cabin.
“Hey. It’s getting colder, Mrs. Jenkins. Heavy cloud cover, so it’s really dark. Did John drive you over?”
Liam knew that the old woman was no longer able to drive because of her heart problems. She was not happy about having to depend on anyone, even though everyone on the island was willing to help her.
“Yes. I’ll call him.”
“I’ll take you home, although my truck isn’t as comfy as his SUV.” He said with a smile.
The old woman stood up and put her knitting things away. “I filled some containers with the rest of the soup. You’ll have it for a few days or you can freeze it.”
Liam grinned. “There will be no freezing. Spike and I will devour it.”
“It’s pretty windy Spike, but do you want to come? I thought I’d stop at the store.”
“Yeah. Need another sketchpad and some colored pencils.”
“I’m gonna have to build another room just to store his drawing pads.” Liam teased good-naturedly. He saw Spike tense a bit. “You know I’m kidding, right? I love your stuff. When are you going to put me in one of your strips?”
Spike smiled shyly. He had not shown Liam any of his real comic strips, only some of his practice frames where he drew faces and clothing but no action. He knew that this gentle man would be horrified by the harsh subjects of his drawings and he didn’t want to worry him. Bugger. I’m gettin’ squidgy with all this worryin’ about his feelings. But he knew he’d given Liam a lot to worry about since he arrived in Vermont. It was new for him - having someone worry about him. It was…confusing and strangely comforting.
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The two men lived peacefully for the weeks drawing up to Thanksgiving. Spike was getting stronger - eating well and his sleep was not always haunted by nightmares. He told Liam he was fine and could sleep on the air mattress, but Liam refused. “There’s a draft on the floor Spike. I don’t want to chance it until you’re totally well.”
Often Spike found himself crying in bed. Not really out of sadness, but from Liam’s concern and friendship. He felt like he was in a wonderful fantasy world, but he worried that the dream would end for some reason. He had lived his life in a constant state of flux. He was not used to depending on anything to last. He worked with Liam in the barn in the afternoons; he couldn’t stand the cold first thing in the morning despite the blazing wood stove. He got better at sanding and staining the furniture pieces. With Liam’s help, he began to make a small footstool. He wanted to give it to Mrs. Jenkins for Christmas. This would be the first present he ever gave anyone. He was working on a little book filled with his drawings for Liam.
One morning when they were getting supplies at the general store, John approached them. “Hey. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner. Mrs. Jenkins, the doc and the sheriff are coming. We’d like you both to come.”
Liam was startled. He had been asked to dinner by John and Amy before but he had always refused. “Umm…” He looked over at Spike lifting his eyebrow inquiringly.
“Sheriff’ll be off duty, yeah?” Spike asked. “Don’t want to spend dinner answerin’ questions.”
John nodded and grinned and Amy spoke from her perch on a ladder on the other side of the store. “I’ll tell Tom questions are verboten on Thanksgiving.”
“Verboten?” Spike asked.
“That means, " forbidden". Amy’s parents came from Germany.” John answered.
“OK, Spike?” Liam asked.
“Yeah, okay.”
The two men left the store and went to the lumberyard and the pharmacy. Spike had to get his antibiotics refilled and Doc Clayton insisted that he start taking vitamins, much to the young man’s annoyance. On the way home, Spike was a bit more fidgety than normal.
“Something wrong, Spike?” Liam asked.
He didn’t answer for several minutes. “I’m English. Heard about Thanksgiving but I’m not really sure what you have to do.”
“Didn’t you celebrate Thanksgiving with your mother in California?”
“Nah, she’s from England, too. Never got into Thanksgiving…holidays. Um…we moved a lot.” Spike answered quietly.
Liam recovered from his surprise. “Well, you’ll love it. There’s tons of food. Of course the turkey, stuffing, and several desserts. Do you like pie?”
“Yeah. I like sweet stuff. You don’t. No cookies or candy in your cupboards.” Spike snarked.
Liam laughed. “Why didn’t you say something when we were at John’s? You could have picked out some stuff.”
“Thought you might not like it. You bein’ a health nut and all.”
“Spike, you live in this house, too. You are entitled to have things that you like. Next time we go into town you can get whatever sweets you want.”
“You sure about that? Might tempt you. Don’t want you gettin’ fat.” Spike said with a grin.
Liam grinned back and playfully hit him on the shoulder. “You can hide it. I won’t snoop.” Liam stopped and realized what he said. “Spike…I didn’t mean…”
“’S okay,” he interrupted, a slight flush flooding his pale cheeks. “I did snoop.”
The two of them were quiet for the rest of the ride back to the cabin.
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Several days later, Spike awoke to find Liam humming and bustling around the kitchen area. He heard Spike’s footsteps and looked up. “Morning, Sleepy Head - it’s ten o’clock.”
“Listen, Mate. I’m used to stayin’ out all night and gettin’ up in the afternoon. Only been gettin’ up early since I’ve been here.” Spike responded a bit sharply.
Liam drew back at the young man’s tone.
“Sorry…didn’t sleep that well…grumpy.” Spike apologized.
Liam looked worried. “Trouble breathing?
“No...um…bad dreams….what are you doin?”
“I’m making an appetizer for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. It’s called bruchetta.” Liam answered with a smile.
“What?” Spike looked totally confused.
"Bruchetta - slices of bread oven-toasted and topped with tomatoes, cheese and spices.” Liam answered.
“Italian? Like pizza?” The younger man asked.
“Not exactly. It’s my grandmother’s recipe; she came from Florence. You can help me with it.”
“I’m not good in the kitchen.”
“It’s easy, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.” Liam said.
“I’m good at eatin” - especially sweet stuff.” Spike smirked.
Liam grinned. “You’ll love Amy’s chocolate mousse pie; it’s topped with whipped cream.” Liam grinned.
“If it’s chocolate, I’ll like it.” Spike returned Liam’s grin.
Liam put his hand on his hip and shook the spoon at Spike, pretending to look stern but failing miserably. “Yeah, but you have to eat dinner first, young man.”
Spike tried to tease back. “Yes, daddy.” Both men stiffened slightly but for very different reasons. “Um…didn’t”
Liam interrupted as he turned quickly back to the kitchen counter. He had been adored by his parents until…until he broke their hearts. “Want some breakfast? Then you can help me mince the tomatoes.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of hungry. Um…does "mince" mean cut?” Spike asked.
Liam was often amazed at the younger man’s lack of knowledge about some things. He wondered, not for the first time, about Spike’s home life in California. “Yes, but cut very small. I’ll show you after you eat. Eggs? Bacon?”
Spike’s face grew brighter. “Yeah. I forgot we got bacon.”
After breakfast Liam showed Spike how to mince the tomatoes for the bruchetta. He watched Liam intently as he mixed in the other ingredients. “Before you, I never saw a man cook…except on those cooking shows.”
“I like to cook. I’ll have to teach you, then you can make me breakfast.” Liam smiled.
“Yeah. I’d like that. I only know how to put stuff in the microwave.” Spike replied.
Liam shivered. “Processed food, yuk.”
Spike laughed out loud at the disgusted look on Liam's face. “You are a right ponce, Mr. Health Nut.”
Liam gave him a mock glare and handed him a bowl and a whisk. “Here, whisk these eggs. I’m making a meringue for the pie.”
Spike looked lost at first but then his face turned hard and he spoke angrily. “You know I don’t know how to do all this stuff.” He sighed and lowered his head. “I’m not stupid…just don’t…never learned how to do much.”
Liam came over and put his hand on Spike’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Spike. I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid.”
Spike had stiffened when Liam touched him and the taller man quickly removed his hand and stepped back. Spike looked up at him, a sad smile of apology on his face.
I wish I knew what happened to him. Sometimes he’s an angry and provocative adult and other times he’s a frightened child. Liam continued, a reassuring smile on his face. “And you’re not stupid by the way. Mrs. Jenkins thinks you’re brilliant and she was a college professor. I know you draw beautifully - at least what you have let me see.”
The younger man blushed. How does he know I don’t show him everything? Did Mrs. Jenkins…
Liam showed Spike how to whisk and then how to whip the egg whites in the mixer. They both laughed when some of the meringue flew out of the bowl and hit Spike’s face. Liam had already wiped some of the tomato mixture from his own chin. The tension was gone and they enjoyed the rest of the day.
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Spike woke to a wonderful aroma on Thursday morning. The nightmares were especially violent last night and he felt groggy. He walked out into the kitchen area. Liam was bending over the stove, oven mitts on his hands.
Spike couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “God Liam, you are such a ponce…look like…like…who’s that woman who decorates all those bloody houses?”
Liam glared playfully at him and said in an imperious tone. “I think you mean Martha Stewart. And I am a better cook than she is.”
The men laughed together. Spike ate his breakfast and took out his drawing pad and Liam went out to the workshop for an hour or so. Spike was getting a bit nervous about the dinner. They were all strangers really. Wonder what they really think. Probably think I’m poncin’ about, gonna nab off his stuff and split.
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By three o’clock the two men had showered, dressed and put Liam’s contributions into the truck. Mac jumped into the front seat.
“Guess we can’t take Bella.” Spike said.
“No, she doesn’t like the truck and she’s happier sleeping the day away in her house.” Liam answered.
Spike’s stomach was knotting with tension. Hope that sheriff leaves off with the questions.
They arrived at John and Amy’s and walked to the door. Spike carried a bouquet of flowers and the lemon meringue pie; Liam had two bottles of wine in his hands.
John opened the door and they walked inside. “Happy Thanksgiving. Are these for me?” He asked grinning and pointing to the flowers.
“No. They’re for Amy.” Liam replied returning the smile and handing the man the wine.
“You’re gonna make me look bad, Liam. I never buy her flowers.”
“Huh. That means I’ll get the biggest servings of everything.” Liam’s smile broadened and John marveled at the change in the man since Spike came. He was more talkative and outgoing than he had been before the younger man arrived.
Liam noticed John trying to get his attention. “Spike, would you take the pie and the flowers into Amy. I’ll be there in a minute. I’ve got to talk to John about something and go out to the truck for the bruchetta.”
For a second Spike looked apprehensive, but he nodded and left the room. A second later they heard Amy squeal with delight. Liam grinned at John and went outside to his truck. After a few minutes, Amy bustled into the living room. She gave Liam a kiss on the cheek as he came in the door with the tray of appetizers. “They are beautiful! You are so thoughtful.” She said glaring a bit at John.
John turned to Liam. “Told you.”
Mrs. Jenkins and Doc Clayton came in together. Mrs. Jenkins had several loaves of her bread, still warm from the oven; the doctor carried the crock pot of her soup and a large box of chocolates. He winked at Spike. “I’m sure Amy will share with you, Spike.”
Spike flushed and everyone laughed. His chocolate obsession was apparently common knowledge. Bugger. Can’t keep nothin’ secret around here. On the other hand, no one had ever paid any attention to what he liked before, so it felt sort of nice.
John turned the television on and the men all sat down to watch the football game and nosh on Liam’s bruchetta. Spike didn’t really understand American football but he sat next to Mrs. Jenkins and watched. The sheriff came in a little while later; Spike stood up and walked over to the back window and stared out at the falling snow. His back was stiff with tension.
“Liam, this …this bruchetta is delicious. I’ve never had it before. You’ll have to give me your recipe.” Mrs. Jenkins said. “My daughter would love to make it for her parties.”
Liam blushed. “I’ll write it down for you. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
“Turkey’s ready.” Amy called from the kitchen.
They all went into the room and carried the dishes to the table. Spike was amazed at all of the food - turkey, sweet and white potatoes, vegetable platters and warm bread.
“Let’s just take a moment to count our blessings.” Mrs. Jenkins requested.
They all bowed their heads silently for a moment. “Let’s have a toast.” Amy said and they all lifted their glasses. “To Thanksgiving - for bringing us all together. Friendship is something to be treasured.”
There was brief silence and then they all responded. “To Thanksgiving!”
Okay. Let’s eat.” John declared.
For the next hour they ate and talked and laughed. Liam participated in the conversation in his own quiet way. Spike watched his face flush soft pink when Dr. Clayton praised the new rocking chair Liam had made. He is a beautiful man.
Spike listened mostly to Mrs. Jenkins and Amy while the other men analyzed football.
Everyone helped to clear the table and Spike stayed in the kitchen with the women. The contrast between Mrs. Jenkins and Amy and his mother made his heart ache. He knew Amy and John didn't have any children. Kids would’ve been happy in this house…I would have been happy in this house. The sheriff made him nervous, although he had been friendly over dinner. He helped load the dishwasher and put things away until Amy told him he had helped enough; go in with the men.
Spike walked into the living room and stopped. The sheriff and Liam were standing together in a side hallway. They were not talking about woodworking. The sheriff’s shoulders were stiff and he was speaking seriously and animatedly. Liam’s hands were clenched tightly at his sides. He turned his head and saw Spike watching them. He didn’t smile and his face was pale. His brow was furrowed and his eyes had lost the twinkle they had at dinner. Spike stood frozen for a moment and then spun on his heel and walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the trash bags and hurried outside. Mac followed him and ran circles in the snow barking and catching the flakes on his tongue, but Spike didn’t laugh at his antics.
Hot tears slid unbidden down Spike’s cheeks as he stood shivering in the cold. Anger and despair stomped through his mind.
Bloody hell. That sodding sheriff found out, told Liam. He won’t want me around. I have to go. Fuck. Fuck. I thought…I thought maybe…maybe I finally had a home.
Spike brushed the tears away when he heard the back door open.
“Spike, what are you doing out here?” Liam asked, his voice sharp, annoyed.
“Got too hot in there.” The younger man mumbled.
“Everyone’s leaving.” He shouted for Mac. The dog and Spike followed Liam into the living room and they said their good-byes. They were silent on the way home and Mac sensed the tension. He rested his head first on Liam’s shoulder and then on Spike’s.
They entered the cabin in silence.
“I’m really tired Liam. I’ll go to bed, okay?” Even to him, his voice sound pathetic.
Liam spoke softly. “Spike.”
“Bloody hell, Liam. I’m sodding exhausted.” He snarled although the tears brimming in his eyes revealed his sadness.
Liam nodded and Spike turned and walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
Liam sat for a long time with Mac and Bella staring into the fire. The cat had walked over to the door once and scratched and meowed, but Spike didn’t open it. Liam was furious and hurt. He let Spike get into his heart. He was a criminal and a runaway! The sheriff had found him in AFIS. He had been arrested for shoplifting and simple assault. Then there was the street hustling. Liam wasn’t surprised about that, based on Spike’s behavior a few times. He remembered Spike’s provocative behavior a few weeks ago. On his knees… Liam flushed and pushed those dangerous thoughts away quickly. He disappeared before his court appearance. I can’t believe the assault charge. It had to be self-defense. I suspected he’d been abused. That’s probably why. He’s been gentle with Mac and Bella. He’s not…it had to be self-defense. Oh God. I don’t know what to say to him. How can I reach him? Let him know he’s safe here? I want him to stay. God help me. He’s made my life better since he’s been here. But…
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Spike stayed awake waiting for Liam to go to bed. He heard Bella scratch at the door, and his heart wrenched. He quietly gathered the clothes that Liam bought him and his sketchpads and put them in a pillowcase. He had seen Liam take money out of a bottom drawer when they were going shopping. He slowly opened the drawer and found the envelope. I’ll pay you back someday Liam, somehow. His hand shook as he emptied out the cash. $300 - Enough to get him to a big city on a bus. Maybe New York. Then…
He forced thoughts from his mind. He’d figure it out. He just had to get away. He couldn’t bear to see Liam’s disappointed face. He didn’t want to know what Liam thought of him. Finally he heard Liam's quiet snores. He opened the door and walked softly toward the door. Mac rushed over to him. He gave the dog the biscuit he had put in his pocket.
“Be quiet boy. Sorry. Gotta go. Take care of Liam, yeah?”
He blinked away his tears and scratched the Labrador’s huge head. He’d miss the big brown dog and especially the huge gray cat, Bella. Bella always sat with him; her purring softened his troubled heart. The cat sauntered over and he almost laughed. She looked pissed. She didn’t wrap herself around his legs. He knelt down and petted her. He buried his face in her soft fur. “Sorry girl. You’re my Bella. I’ll miss you.”
This time he couldn’t stop the tears. He stood up and tiptoed over to the mattress where Liam slept and swallowed the sob in his throat. He couldn’t stop shaking. Liam. I’m sorry. Just rotten I guess. One stray even you couldn’t save. I…I was happy here…I…I…
He brushed the tears from his face and walked quietly to the door. He turned and looked at the simple cabin where he had been happier than he knew was possible. He memorized the room filled with Liam’s beautiful furniture. I’ll never forget you Liam, never. He opened the door and stumbled out into the cold early dawn.
Chapter 6
Title: Runaways
Authors: angelspike69 and anamcara420
Pairing: Liam/Spike (William)
Rating: Adult. This story contains M/M sex. If that isn’t your cup of tea then go away now and don’t read any farther.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Angel and Spike don’t belong to us. If they did, they’d be following up all their fighting and snarking with each other with lots of manly shagging.
Spoilers: No spoilers at all as this is a story that takes place in an alternate universe where our boys are totally human and have never been vampires. We’re not even sure if they believe in them.
Feedback: AngelSpike69 and Anamcara420
Notes: Would like to extend our sincere thanks to Makd (aka Mary) for her beta of our story (we remembered the “pickles”). You are the best sweetie!!!!! Previous chapters can be found here.
Summary: Two damaged young men meet by chance in the woods in Vermont. Through conflict and kindness and the special magic of Christmas, they stop running from their pasts and help each other to heal.
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Chapter 5
Although he still tired quickly, Spike grew stronger everyday. His skin had less pallor and his eyes were a clear, brilliant blue again. Liam and he drove into town to get Spike some clothes. Liam had picked up two pair of sweatpants, sweatshirts and heavy socks, but he wanted the younger man to choose some things himself.
Spike got out of the truck and stared up at the small building. “Dry goods? What the heck are dry goods?”
Liam laughed. “That’s an old term for a store that sells fabrics, clothes and stuff.” The older man hesitated. “There won’t be a big selection, Spike. We’ll go over to Burlington when you’re stronger.”
Spike smiled. “Been wantin’ to go to Burlington. Big city and all.”
“We’ll go before Christmas.” Liam promised.
The two men entered the dry goods store; a bell tinkled as they went in. Spike shook his head. Sodding 'Little House on the Prairie'. The young woman behind the counter smiled. “Hey, Liam. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
“Hey, Jess. This is Spike.” Liam answered.
“Oh. Hi. Heard about you. Feeling better? You look good.” She said with a wink.
Spike smiled slightly and nodded. He turned to look at Liam and rolled his eyes.
Liam laughed. Spike was not used to the ways of a tiny place like North Hero Island, where everyone pretty much knew what was going on. He knew the townspeople had speculated about him but he had kept mostly to himself. Spike’s mysterious arrival, his punkish looks and his recent stay in the hospital made both of them a dinner table topic, he was certain.
“Ah…, Jess. We’re gonna look around,” Liam said with a grin.
“Sure. Let me know if I can help. I’ll be in the back for a few minutes - checking on my mom.”
Jess’ mom had multiple sclerosis. Her dad had fled when his wife was diagnosed and the girl came home from college to care for her mother. Liam admired the girl for her devotion and was angry with her father for abandoning his family. His heart clenched as he remembered his parents…
Liam watched in amusement as Spike searched the clothing area. He could tell that he was not terribly impressed by the selection. The bleach has grown out of his hair. I like the blonde tips on his light brown hair. It’s softer. Touchable. Liam jerked away from his risky thoughts, just as Spike looked up, his face twisted in annoyance.
“I don’t see any black jeans.” He shook his head and picked up a pair of blue jeans. “Where are the T-shirts?”
Liam handed him a package of white Hanes T-shirts and couldn’t hide his smirk.
Spike’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell!”
He went into the small, curtained dressing room to try on the jeans. He came out looking chagrined. The jeans were too big. “Huh. That’s the size I wore before.”
“You’ve lost weight, Spike.” Liam said.
While Spike tried on a smaller pair of jeans, Liam walked around picking up a few other things. Spike came out of the tiny dressing room. “They fit. Gotta wash’em a bunch of times though; they’re too stiff.” He grumbled.
Liam handed him a flannel shirt. “It’s too cold just for T-shirts, Spike.” Again Liam had to hide his smile at the incredulous look on Spike's face.
“We’ll go to Burlington, Liam, yeah? These…they aren’t my kind of clothes.” Spike sad quietly.
Liam smiled and nodded. “Promise.”
The only shoes the store had were work boots and a few pairs of soft suede desert boots. Liam convinced Spike to get both. “Your boots are destroyed from the wet, Spike.”
The slender man looked broken-hearted. “Yeah, I know. They’ll have Doc Martins in Burlington. It’s a college town. They can’t all be…” He left the sentence hang as he noticed what Liam was holding up.
Liam lowered his voice. “I know you don’t usually wear underwear, but maybe a few pair?”
Spike rolled his eyes again.
“Boxers or briefs?” Liam asked as he held up a package of each.
Spike closed his eyes and sighed dramatically. Sodding underwear. Bugger. “Boxers.”
“Plaid, solid or Fleur de Lis?” Liam couldn’t help himself and he burst out laughing at the pained look on Spike's face. “Sorry. The look on your face is…” He struggled to swallow his merriment.
“Liam.” Spike said the name deadly seriously as he grabbed the package of dark solid boxers.
“You need a coat, Spike.” Liam said as they strolled around the store. “Here, how about this?” He asked holding up a black Pea coat. “It’s black.”
“Yeah, OK. Least it doesn’t have a poncey fur hood.” Spike groused.
*************************
Spike and Liam lived in friendly camaraderie. Spike drew, read and worked with Liam in the barn. They watched films from Liam’s huge collection. Liam never asked any more questions about Spike’s life or spoke about David.
He heard a car crunch on the snow. It was probably their neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. She had been coming over frequently since he had come home from the hospital. According to Liam, her husband of fifty years had died in early autumn and she was alone. Her daughter and her family lived in Boston and they did not visit often. Mrs. Jenkins was seventy-five years old; travel was not as easy as it once was for her.
Spike had never known either of his grandmothers but he didn’t think they would have been like Mrs. Jenkins. He often thought about the generosity and sincerity of the people he had met since Liam found him in the woods several weeks ago. He experienced more kindness here than he had in his whole life. Liam, Mrs. Jenkins - neither of them had any reason to care about him. He couldn’t figure it out.
“Spike!”
Spike stood up and grinned. Bella usually sat with him when he drew and she was stretched across several of the scraps of paper he had rejected. He scratched her head and heard the deep rumbling throughout her body although she didn’t open her eyes. Her presence and soft fur were soothing and he never felt lonely when he heard her purring.
“I’m comin’, Mrs. Jenkins.”
He opened the door for the old woman. She stood on the porch with a crock-pot in her hands. He reached for it quickly and followed her into the cabin.
“What’s this then? Minestrone?” Spike asked.
“No. It’s a special treat - shrimp bisque.” The old woman answered with a smile.
“Shrimp bisque - what’s that?”
“It’s a creamy soup with shrimp. It’s a cold-weather soup. I don’t usually make it until Thanksgiving, but you need to get some meat on those bones.”
Mrs. Jenkins was unpacking things from her basket and Spike’s nose twitched and his mouth watered as the soup’s aroma wafted throughout the kitchen. He smelled the warm bread.
“I’ll call Liam.”
The old woman bustled around the kitchen and Spike went to the back door. He pulled it open to find Liam standing on the back porch, his beautiful face flushed pink with the cold. Mac bounded in, almost knocking Spike down.
“Mrs. Jenkins brought soup - shrimp something.” Spike said with a smile.
“HMMMMM - that is so good. Perfect for a cold day. Mac knows she always has a soup bone for him,” Liam answered. They watched the dog scamper up to the woman and sit at her feet.
Spike went back into the kitchen area to help Mrs. Jenkins. Liam hung up his outerwear and took off his boots and joined them. The soup’s aroma and the fragrance of warm bread filled the small cabin. Spike felt tears prick his eyes but he quickly blinked them away. This is like a sodding fairy tale! Never believed anyone lived like this.
After lunch Liam went back out to the barn. Christmas wasn’t that far away and he had quite a few orders to complete. Mrs. Jenkins sat in the chair by the fire and Spike sprawled at her feet, reading one of the books from her husband’s library.
“How do you like William Blake, Spike?” The old woman asked.
“He’s different. I don’t always know exactly what he means in his poems. Like his paintings, though. It’s weird. They look too modern for his time.”
“Yes, he was quite a visionary and he was pretty weird.” She said with a grin. “He said he had visions and he painted what he saw in them.” She continued to knit the tiny pink sweater for her soon to be born great-granddaughter. “Have you been drawing?”
Spike sat up and closed the book. “Yeah. Wanna see?”
Mrs. Jenkins was one of a very few people who had ever seen all of his art. He trusted her and he wasn’t used to trusting anyone; now he trusted Liam and Mrs. Jenkins. He brought his drawing pad over to her chair. She put down her knitting and he handed her his sketchbook and sat down beside her. She paged through the latest drawings without speaking. Finally she looked up at him. “Spike, you have great talent. The faces are so distinct. I can’t see how these are considered comics.”
“They are a different kind of comic - modern, fantasy.” He replied.
“Spike.” Her blue eyes were blurred with tears. “My eyes are old but these are…horrible things are happening in these frames.”
Spike lowered his head and spoke into the floor. “I saw this stuff happen. Saw the…the brutality.”
Mrs. Jenkins put her hand on his shoulder. “Spike. Did anything like this ever happen to you?”
Spike didn’t answer for several minutes. Finally he looked up at the old woman. “Yeah, some.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“’S OK. It’s in the past. Never goin’ back.” He looked up at the woman and gave her a slight smile. “Gave me lots of ideas to draw. Maybe I’ll be able to sell these someday.”
Spike took the sketchpad back and put it away. He sat down again and went back to his book and Mrs. Jenkins picked up her knitting. They sat in companionable silence for an hour until Liam stomped into the cabin.
“Hey. It’s getting colder, Mrs. Jenkins. Heavy cloud cover, so it’s really dark. Did John drive you over?”
Liam knew that the old woman was no longer able to drive because of her heart problems. She was not happy about having to depend on anyone, even though everyone on the island was willing to help her.
“Yes. I’ll call him.”
“I’ll take you home, although my truck isn’t as comfy as his SUV.” He said with a smile.
The old woman stood up and put her knitting things away. “I filled some containers with the rest of the soup. You’ll have it for a few days or you can freeze it.”
Liam grinned. “There will be no freezing. Spike and I will devour it.”
“It’s pretty windy Spike, but do you want to come? I thought I’d stop at the store.”
“Yeah. Need another sketchpad and some colored pencils.”
“I’m gonna have to build another room just to store his drawing pads.” Liam teased good-naturedly. He saw Spike tense a bit. “You know I’m kidding, right? I love your stuff. When are you going to put me in one of your strips?”
Spike smiled shyly. He had not shown Liam any of his real comic strips, only some of his practice frames where he drew faces and clothing but no action. He knew that this gentle man would be horrified by the harsh subjects of his drawings and he didn’t want to worry him. Bugger. I’m gettin’ squidgy with all this worryin’ about his feelings. But he knew he’d given Liam a lot to worry about since he arrived in Vermont. It was new for him - having someone worry about him. It was…confusing and strangely comforting.
*************************
The two men lived peacefully for the weeks drawing up to Thanksgiving. Spike was getting stronger - eating well and his sleep was not always haunted by nightmares. He told Liam he was fine and could sleep on the air mattress, but Liam refused. “There’s a draft on the floor Spike. I don’t want to chance it until you’re totally well.”
Often Spike found himself crying in bed. Not really out of sadness, but from Liam’s concern and friendship. He felt like he was in a wonderful fantasy world, but he worried that the dream would end for some reason. He had lived his life in a constant state of flux. He was not used to depending on anything to last. He worked with Liam in the barn in the afternoons; he couldn’t stand the cold first thing in the morning despite the blazing wood stove. He got better at sanding and staining the furniture pieces. With Liam’s help, he began to make a small footstool. He wanted to give it to Mrs. Jenkins for Christmas. This would be the first present he ever gave anyone. He was working on a little book filled with his drawings for Liam.
One morning when they were getting supplies at the general store, John approached them. “Hey. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner. Mrs. Jenkins, the doc and the sheriff are coming. We’d like you both to come.”
Liam was startled. He had been asked to dinner by John and Amy before but he had always refused. “Umm…” He looked over at Spike lifting his eyebrow inquiringly.
“Sheriff’ll be off duty, yeah?” Spike asked. “Don’t want to spend dinner answerin’ questions.”
John nodded and grinned and Amy spoke from her perch on a ladder on the other side of the store. “I’ll tell Tom questions are verboten on Thanksgiving.”
“Verboten?” Spike asked.
“That means, " forbidden". Amy’s parents came from Germany.” John answered.
“OK, Spike?” Liam asked.
“Yeah, okay.”
The two men left the store and went to the lumberyard and the pharmacy. Spike had to get his antibiotics refilled and Doc Clayton insisted that he start taking vitamins, much to the young man’s annoyance. On the way home, Spike was a bit more fidgety than normal.
“Something wrong, Spike?” Liam asked.
He didn’t answer for several minutes. “I’m English. Heard about Thanksgiving but I’m not really sure what you have to do.”
“Didn’t you celebrate Thanksgiving with your mother in California?”
“Nah, she’s from England, too. Never got into Thanksgiving…holidays. Um…we moved a lot.” Spike answered quietly.
Liam recovered from his surprise. “Well, you’ll love it. There’s tons of food. Of course the turkey, stuffing, and several desserts. Do you like pie?”
“Yeah. I like sweet stuff. You don’t. No cookies or candy in your cupboards.” Spike snarked.
Liam laughed. “Why didn’t you say something when we were at John’s? You could have picked out some stuff.”
“Thought you might not like it. You bein’ a health nut and all.”
“Spike, you live in this house, too. You are entitled to have things that you like. Next time we go into town you can get whatever sweets you want.”
“You sure about that? Might tempt you. Don’t want you gettin’ fat.” Spike said with a grin.
Liam grinned back and playfully hit him on the shoulder. “You can hide it. I won’t snoop.” Liam stopped and realized what he said. “Spike…I didn’t mean…”
“’S okay,” he interrupted, a slight flush flooding his pale cheeks. “I did snoop.”
The two of them were quiet for the rest of the ride back to the cabin.
*************************
Several days later, Spike awoke to find Liam humming and bustling around the kitchen area. He heard Spike’s footsteps and looked up. “Morning, Sleepy Head - it’s ten o’clock.”
“Listen, Mate. I’m used to stayin’ out all night and gettin’ up in the afternoon. Only been gettin’ up early since I’ve been here.” Spike responded a bit sharply.
Liam drew back at the young man’s tone.
“Sorry…didn’t sleep that well…grumpy.” Spike apologized.
Liam looked worried. “Trouble breathing?
“No...um…bad dreams….what are you doin?”
“I’m making an appetizer for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. It’s called bruchetta.” Liam answered with a smile.
“What?” Spike looked totally confused.
"Bruchetta - slices of bread oven-toasted and topped with tomatoes, cheese and spices.” Liam answered.
“Italian? Like pizza?” The younger man asked.
“Not exactly. It’s my grandmother’s recipe; she came from Florence. You can help me with it.”
“I’m not good in the kitchen.”
“It’s easy, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.” Liam said.
“I’m good at eatin” - especially sweet stuff.” Spike smirked.
Liam grinned. “You’ll love Amy’s chocolate mousse pie; it’s topped with whipped cream.” Liam grinned.
“If it’s chocolate, I’ll like it.” Spike returned Liam’s grin.
Liam put his hand on his hip and shook the spoon at Spike, pretending to look stern but failing miserably. “Yeah, but you have to eat dinner first, young man.”
Spike tried to tease back. “Yes, daddy.” Both men stiffened slightly but for very different reasons. “Um…didn’t”
Liam interrupted as he turned quickly back to the kitchen counter. He had been adored by his parents until…until he broke their hearts. “Want some breakfast? Then you can help me mince the tomatoes.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of hungry. Um…does "mince" mean cut?” Spike asked.
Liam was often amazed at the younger man’s lack of knowledge about some things. He wondered, not for the first time, about Spike’s home life in California. “Yes, but cut very small. I’ll show you after you eat. Eggs? Bacon?”
Spike’s face grew brighter. “Yeah. I forgot we got bacon.”
After breakfast Liam showed Spike how to mince the tomatoes for the bruchetta. He watched Liam intently as he mixed in the other ingredients. “Before you, I never saw a man cook…except on those cooking shows.”
“I like to cook. I’ll have to teach you, then you can make me breakfast.” Liam smiled.
“Yeah. I’d like that. I only know how to put stuff in the microwave.” Spike replied.
Liam shivered. “Processed food, yuk.”
Spike laughed out loud at the disgusted look on Liam's face. “You are a right ponce, Mr. Health Nut.”
Liam gave him a mock glare and handed him a bowl and a whisk. “Here, whisk these eggs. I’m making a meringue for the pie.”
Spike looked lost at first but then his face turned hard and he spoke angrily. “You know I don’t know how to do all this stuff.” He sighed and lowered his head. “I’m not stupid…just don’t…never learned how to do much.”
Liam came over and put his hand on Spike’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Spike. I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid.”
Spike had stiffened when Liam touched him and the taller man quickly removed his hand and stepped back. Spike looked up at him, a sad smile of apology on his face.
I wish I knew what happened to him. Sometimes he’s an angry and provocative adult and other times he’s a frightened child. Liam continued, a reassuring smile on his face. “And you’re not stupid by the way. Mrs. Jenkins thinks you’re brilliant and she was a college professor. I know you draw beautifully - at least what you have let me see.”
The younger man blushed. How does he know I don’t show him everything? Did Mrs. Jenkins…
Liam showed Spike how to whisk and then how to whip the egg whites in the mixer. They both laughed when some of the meringue flew out of the bowl and hit Spike’s face. Liam had already wiped some of the tomato mixture from his own chin. The tension was gone and they enjoyed the rest of the day.
*************************
Spike woke to a wonderful aroma on Thursday morning. The nightmares were especially violent last night and he felt groggy. He walked out into the kitchen area. Liam was bending over the stove, oven mitts on his hands.
Spike couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “God Liam, you are such a ponce…look like…like…who’s that woman who decorates all those bloody houses?”
Liam glared playfully at him and said in an imperious tone. “I think you mean Martha Stewart. And I am a better cook than she is.”
The men laughed together. Spike ate his breakfast and took out his drawing pad and Liam went out to the workshop for an hour or so. Spike was getting a bit nervous about the dinner. They were all strangers really. Wonder what they really think. Probably think I’m poncin’ about, gonna nab off his stuff and split.
*************************
By three o’clock the two men had showered, dressed and put Liam’s contributions into the truck. Mac jumped into the front seat.
“Guess we can’t take Bella.” Spike said.
“No, she doesn’t like the truck and she’s happier sleeping the day away in her house.” Liam answered.
Spike’s stomach was knotting with tension. Hope that sheriff leaves off with the questions.
They arrived at John and Amy’s and walked to the door. Spike carried a bouquet of flowers and the lemon meringue pie; Liam had two bottles of wine in his hands.
John opened the door and they walked inside. “Happy Thanksgiving. Are these for me?” He asked grinning and pointing to the flowers.
“No. They’re for Amy.” Liam replied returning the smile and handing the man the wine.
“You’re gonna make me look bad, Liam. I never buy her flowers.”
“Huh. That means I’ll get the biggest servings of everything.” Liam’s smile broadened and John marveled at the change in the man since Spike came. He was more talkative and outgoing than he had been before the younger man arrived.
Liam noticed John trying to get his attention. “Spike, would you take the pie and the flowers into Amy. I’ll be there in a minute. I’ve got to talk to John about something and go out to the truck for the bruchetta.”
For a second Spike looked apprehensive, but he nodded and left the room. A second later they heard Amy squeal with delight. Liam grinned at John and went outside to his truck. After a few minutes, Amy bustled into the living room. She gave Liam a kiss on the cheek as he came in the door with the tray of appetizers. “They are beautiful! You are so thoughtful.” She said glaring a bit at John.
John turned to Liam. “Told you.”
Mrs. Jenkins and Doc Clayton came in together. Mrs. Jenkins had several loaves of her bread, still warm from the oven; the doctor carried the crock pot of her soup and a large box of chocolates. He winked at Spike. “I’m sure Amy will share with you, Spike.”
Spike flushed and everyone laughed. His chocolate obsession was apparently common knowledge. Bugger. Can’t keep nothin’ secret around here. On the other hand, no one had ever paid any attention to what he liked before, so it felt sort of nice.
John turned the television on and the men all sat down to watch the football game and nosh on Liam’s bruchetta. Spike didn’t really understand American football but he sat next to Mrs. Jenkins and watched. The sheriff came in a little while later; Spike stood up and walked over to the back window and stared out at the falling snow. His back was stiff with tension.
“Liam, this …this bruchetta is delicious. I’ve never had it before. You’ll have to give me your recipe.” Mrs. Jenkins said. “My daughter would love to make it for her parties.”
Liam blushed. “I’ll write it down for you. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
“Turkey’s ready.” Amy called from the kitchen.
They all went into the room and carried the dishes to the table. Spike was amazed at all of the food - turkey, sweet and white potatoes, vegetable platters and warm bread.
“Let’s just take a moment to count our blessings.” Mrs. Jenkins requested.
They all bowed their heads silently for a moment. “Let’s have a toast.” Amy said and they all lifted their glasses. “To Thanksgiving - for bringing us all together. Friendship is something to be treasured.”
There was brief silence and then they all responded. “To Thanksgiving!”
Okay. Let’s eat.” John declared.
For the next hour they ate and talked and laughed. Liam participated in the conversation in his own quiet way. Spike watched his face flush soft pink when Dr. Clayton praised the new rocking chair Liam had made. He is a beautiful man.
Spike listened mostly to Mrs. Jenkins and Amy while the other men analyzed football.
Everyone helped to clear the table and Spike stayed in the kitchen with the women. The contrast between Mrs. Jenkins and Amy and his mother made his heart ache. He knew Amy and John didn't have any children. Kids would’ve been happy in this house…I would have been happy in this house. The sheriff made him nervous, although he had been friendly over dinner. He helped load the dishwasher and put things away until Amy told him he had helped enough; go in with the men.
Spike walked into the living room and stopped. The sheriff and Liam were standing together in a side hallway. They were not talking about woodworking. The sheriff’s shoulders were stiff and he was speaking seriously and animatedly. Liam’s hands were clenched tightly at his sides. He turned his head and saw Spike watching them. He didn’t smile and his face was pale. His brow was furrowed and his eyes had lost the twinkle they had at dinner. Spike stood frozen for a moment and then spun on his heel and walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the trash bags and hurried outside. Mac followed him and ran circles in the snow barking and catching the flakes on his tongue, but Spike didn’t laugh at his antics.
Hot tears slid unbidden down Spike’s cheeks as he stood shivering in the cold. Anger and despair stomped through his mind.
Bloody hell. That sodding sheriff found out, told Liam. He won’t want me around. I have to go. Fuck. Fuck. I thought…I thought maybe…maybe I finally had a home.
Spike brushed the tears away when he heard the back door open.
“Spike, what are you doing out here?” Liam asked, his voice sharp, annoyed.
“Got too hot in there.” The younger man mumbled.
“Everyone’s leaving.” He shouted for Mac. The dog and Spike followed Liam into the living room and they said their good-byes. They were silent on the way home and Mac sensed the tension. He rested his head first on Liam’s shoulder and then on Spike’s.
They entered the cabin in silence.
“I’m really tired Liam. I’ll go to bed, okay?” Even to him, his voice sound pathetic.
Liam spoke softly. “Spike.”
“Bloody hell, Liam. I’m sodding exhausted.” He snarled although the tears brimming in his eyes revealed his sadness.
Liam nodded and Spike turned and walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
Liam sat for a long time with Mac and Bella staring into the fire. The cat had walked over to the door once and scratched and meowed, but Spike didn’t open it. Liam was furious and hurt. He let Spike get into his heart. He was a criminal and a runaway! The sheriff had found him in AFIS. He had been arrested for shoplifting and simple assault. Then there was the street hustling. Liam wasn’t surprised about that, based on Spike’s behavior a few times. He remembered Spike’s provocative behavior a few weeks ago. On his knees… Liam flushed and pushed those dangerous thoughts away quickly. He disappeared before his court appearance. I can’t believe the assault charge. It had to be self-defense. I suspected he’d been abused. That’s probably why. He’s been gentle with Mac and Bella. He’s not…it had to be self-defense. Oh God. I don’t know what to say to him. How can I reach him? Let him know he’s safe here? I want him to stay. God help me. He’s made my life better since he’s been here. But…
*************************
Spike stayed awake waiting for Liam to go to bed. He heard Bella scratch at the door, and his heart wrenched. He quietly gathered the clothes that Liam bought him and his sketchpads and put them in a pillowcase. He had seen Liam take money out of a bottom drawer when they were going shopping. He slowly opened the drawer and found the envelope. I’ll pay you back someday Liam, somehow. His hand shook as he emptied out the cash. $300 - Enough to get him to a big city on a bus. Maybe New York. Then…
He forced thoughts from his mind. He’d figure it out. He just had to get away. He couldn’t bear to see Liam’s disappointed face. He didn’t want to know what Liam thought of him. Finally he heard Liam's quiet snores. He opened the door and walked softly toward the door. Mac rushed over to him. He gave the dog the biscuit he had put in his pocket.
“Be quiet boy. Sorry. Gotta go. Take care of Liam, yeah?”
He blinked away his tears and scratched the Labrador’s huge head. He’d miss the big brown dog and especially the huge gray cat, Bella. Bella always sat with him; her purring softened his troubled heart. The cat sauntered over and he almost laughed. She looked pissed. She didn’t wrap herself around his legs. He knelt down and petted her. He buried his face in her soft fur. “Sorry girl. You’re my Bella. I’ll miss you.”
This time he couldn’t stop the tears. He stood up and tiptoed over to the mattress where Liam slept and swallowed the sob in his throat. He couldn’t stop shaking. Liam. I’m sorry. Just rotten I guess. One stray even you couldn’t save. I…I was happy here…I…I…
He brushed the tears from his face and walked quietly to the door. He turned and looked at the simple cabin where he had been happier than he knew was possible. He memorized the room filled with Liam’s beautiful furniture. I’ll never forget you Liam, never. He opened the door and stumbled out into the cold early dawn.
Chapter 6