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 (marinersgal69@msn.com) and Anamcara420 (ldelrossi@excite.com)

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!!!!!

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 1

Liam de Angelus dragged his sled as he tromped through the lightly falling snowflakes, his boots crunching on the leaves trapped in the snow beneath his feet. His chocolate Labrador bounded near him, tossing up branches and catching them in his mouth. Liam ginned at the dog's antics. Mac could always make him smile.

Liam shivered despite his heavy clothing. The biting wind from Lake Champlain was picking up strength. It blew fiercely from the beach despite the windbreak the woods provided. The snow seemed wetter and forced the cold deep into his bones. He was annoyed with himself. He should have gone into town earlier in the week for extra supplies. However, he was intent on finishing the rocking chair for old Mrs. Jenkins, and days got away from him. Now he had to journey through the increasingly heavy flakes.

He made his way to the small general store on the on the island's main street. He hoped the weather would keep most people in doors. He didn't feel like talking to anyone. He stamped his snowy feet on the small porch and pushed inside the brightly-lit building, with Mac following him. John McDermott turned around from stocking the shelves and gave him a nod.

"Mornin', Liam. Haven't seen ya in a few days," he said and reached into a bin for a dog biscuit. "Hey Mac."

The dog wagged his tale and gave a small bark in greeting. He took the offered biscuit and lay down in front of the wood stove.

"Yeah, working." Liam responded.

Liam strolled around the store picking up the items he needed and several extra in case the snow got heavier. "Haven't listened to the radio for a few days. This weather gonna get worse?" He asked.

"Not that I heard, though it seems colder than usual for October. Didn't hear your truck. Did ya walk in?" John asked.

"Yeah." Liam finished placing his purchases on the counter and the storekeeper wrapped them up. Liam paid the bill and nodded. "See ya in a few days John."

"Yep." The man replied. He watched as the younger man secured his supplies on his sled and thought, not for the first time, about the stranger who had arrived a year ago. His wife thought Liam was quite handsome and almost beautiful when he offered one of his rare smiles. He was tall and broad-shouldered with slightly curly dark hair that fell almost to his shoulders and brown eyes. John thought Liam was in his late twenties. He knew the furniture-maker came from New York City. Old Charley McBride was his great uncle. Apparently Liam had come to visit North Hero Island in the summers when he was a boy. When the old man died, he left his nephew his cabin. It stayed empty for a couple of years and then one day, Liam appeared in his store. He moved into the cabin in the woods, lived alone and made furniture.

Liam had come into the store with a small table and asked if he could put it in the store on consignment. His wife made him buy it as soon as she saw it. John had to admit it was truly beautiful. Several people in town had bought chairs and tables from the man and he had repaired furniture for several others. Liam always gave him a small portion of the sales for allowing him to display the pieces in the store. When Mrs. Martin's son saw the desk Liam had made for his mother, he commissioned several pieces for his shop in Boston. Liam was polite, but he never stayed to talk to anyone. He didn't go to church or any of the socials. Although Vermont is famous for its taciturn citizens, Liam was more reticent than the norm. No one in town knew much about him, and Liam never offered up any information about himself. In fact, he pretty much kept to himself and his cabin, unless he had to come into town for supplies or to sell some of the furniture he made.

The flakes were falling more heavily and the temperature was dropping. "Come on, Mac." Liam shouted for the dog and trudged out of town, nodding to the few people out on the street. He and the dog walked deeper into the woods on their way back to the small cabin. Suddenly the dog stopped and growled low in his throat. Liam stopped. "What is it, boy?" The dog raced off into the woods. "Mac, Mac, come back here!" He called, but the dog did not return. Sighing, Liam continued on his way back to the cabin.

He heard the dog barking and whimpering and he hurried in the direction of the sound. As he came closer, he saw Mac in front of a large tree staring at something.

"Mac. Mac." He called worriedly. He hoped it was not some rabid animal. Liam drew closer and saw a booted foot. His heart lurched. "Oh God. Please don't let someone be dead," he begged.

His mind hurtled back to the death of his lover, David. He thought he had put distance from the tragedy. He had fled the city and worked for two years with furniture craftsmen on North Carolina's Outer Banks to hone his skills. He worked long hours with the older men and put all of his emotions into the wood and his creations. Then he decided to move into his uncle's cabin.

Liam shuddered out of his painful memories and drew closer. A slender, pale young man was huddled in the hollow of a tree. Mac was licking his face but he was not responsive. Liam stiffened. "Mac. Mac. Come here." The dog looked at him and whined but did not leave the unconscious young man. Liam walked closer and relaxed a bit when he saw the man's chest heave. He was alive!

Liam knelt down and looked at pale young man. He looked to be about eighteen years of age. His bleached blond hair hung in soft curls around his face. He was not dressed for autumn in Vermont. He wore black heavy boots, torn jeans, a t-shirt and a denim jacket. He stared at the young man, noticing the pierced eyebrow. Liam gently shook the boy's shoulder. "Hey. Hey." There was no response. They were about two miles out of town and only a short way from his cabin. He'd take the stranger there and call the sheriff. Liam lifted up the young man. He weighed less than Mac! He hefted him over his shoulder and grasped the rope on the sled that was carrying his supplies and walked the short distance to his cabin as the dog pranced and yipped next to him.

He carried the young man inside and laid him in front of the fireplace, covering him with a quilt. He quickly added kindling to the logs in the fireplace, hurried outside, unloaded the sled and brought his packages into the cabin. The young man had not moved and Mac was curled tightly next to him. He seemed to understand that his body would warm the young man. His big grey cat – Bella - was standing over them. She looked up at Liam and gave a long meow. Liam laughed quietly. "On your turf, huh girl?" She meowed again and walked to the edge of the quilt, closest to the fire. She curled herself next to one of the boy's legs and closed her eyes.

Liam threw more logs in the fireplace and stoked the flames until they blazed. He walked into the tiny kitchen and put water to boil on the stove. He glanced over at his silent guest and went into his bedroom to get wool socks from his dresser. He hesitated and retrieved a pair of old sweatpants and a college sweatshirt from another drawer. He took his uncle's old flannel bathrobe from a hook in the closet, walked back into the living room, laid the clothing on the back of the sofa and went back to the kitchen. He grabbed the teapot just as it began to whistle, poured the water into a large mug and added the tea that had been steeping on the counter. He added honey and a measure of whiskey that he kept in the closet and returned to the fireplace. He knelt next to the figure under the quilt and spoke to the dog and cat.

"Sorry guys." Much to Bella's annoyance, he lowered the quilt and gently prodded his guest - who moaned - but didn't open his eyes.

"Hey there. Are you hurt?" Liam asked. He moaned again. Liam removed the heavy wet boots and socks and put the wool socks on the younger man's cold feet. He hesitated, but realized he needed to find out if he had any serious injuries. Liam roamed his hands gently over the quivering body but found no broken bones. His flimsy clothes were sopping wet and unless Liam got him into dry clothing he would not get warm. Pneumonia was a distinct possibility. David. He pushed his memories aside quickly and began to speak softly to him as he removed the sodden pants. Liam froze: he wasn't wearing any underwear!

He averted his eyes and hurriedly pulled on the sweatpants. He lifted him from the floor and took off the jacket and the t-shirt. He gasped. His thin chest was covered with bruises. As he continued looking him over for injuries, he noticed the pierced nipples and the belly ring. "What was it with these young kids, intent on sticking pieces of metal into their bodies?" he thought, as he put the sweatshirt over the younger man's head and then gently pulled his arms through the sleeves. The stranger struggled feebly and moaned pitifully.

"No...no...please...no."

Unnerved by the young man's whimpers, Liam held him to his chest and spoke quietly. "It's alright. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

He quickly wrapped the bathrobe around him and leaned him against the sofa. He sat next to him and spoke softly and he hoped, reassuringly.

"Hey. You're safe. You're in my cabin. You'll be warm soon." Liam reached for the cup and turned back. He was startled when he saw blue eyes open and staring at him. He began to tremble and Liam spoke again.

"Hey. I'm Liam. My dog found you in the woods. Are you hurt?" He smiled at the thin young man who blinked, but didn't say anything. "Here - drink this, it'll warm you up." Liam pressed the cup to his mouth and he took a small sip, never taking his eyes from Liam's face.

"Hot."

Liam smiled at him. "Yeah. You need to get warm inside."

"Booze?"

Liam smiled again. "Yeah. Whiskey. That's what St. Bernard's carry when they search for stranded skiers."

The young man swallowed a bit more and closed his eyes.

"Are you hurt?" Liam asked.

He opened his eyes again and Liam marveled at their bright blueness. He didn't answer, but shook his head slightly and then groaned. "Head hurts." He whispered.

Liam moved to his knees. "Let me touch your head, see if there's a bump." He probed gently in the blonde curls and found a large swelling midway on his skull. Dried blood matted his hair. Liam drew in a breath. His visitor could have a concussion; he had to call the sheriff; get him to the hospital.

Liam spoke. "You have a large bump on the back of your head. Is your vision blurred?"

The young man went to shake his head and then moaned. "No. Just a headache."

"Look. We need to get you to the doctor's. Make sure it's not serious. The hospital is about forty-five minutes away."

He stiffened and looked increasingly frightened as Liam spoke. "No. No hospital...I'm alright." He struggled, trying to get up. He made it to his knees and then swayed. Liam caught him and drew him up.

"Okay. Okay. Here. Lie down on the sofa." Liam helped him to lie back on the pillows and covered him with the quilt. Mac put his paw on the young man's arm. He stared for a moment at the dog and then smiled tentatively.

"He doesn't bite?" He asked uncertainly.

Liam chuckled. "Mac? Bite? Humph. Labs are supposed to be hunting dogs. Mac doesn't hunt. He just licks every animal and every person he sees."

The young man smiled more confidently and lifted his hand to pet the dog. "Never had a dog. Never had a pet." He closed his eyes only to open them when Bella jumped onto the back of the sofa. "You a vet?"

Liam laughed lightly. "No. Mac is my dog. I found Bella as a starving kitten in the woods. She rules the house."

"Not starvin' now." He said, a tiny smirk touching his lips as he put his other hand on the cat's soft fur. Bella began to purr. Startled by the noise, he looked at Liam.

Liam raised his eyebrows. "She's purring. Never heard a cat purr?"

He shook his head again and moaned at the movement. He whispered. "Why?"

"Why? Oh...why does she purr? All cats do. That means they're contented." Liam wondered to himself about the stranger's lack of connection with animals.

"Rest. I'll be back." Liam walked into the bathroom and ran some water. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the sheriff. "Tom. Liam. Found a kid in the woods. No, about eighteen. He's got a lump on his head." He listened. "No. Not from around here. Has an accent. English. Not dressed for Vermont." He stopped speaking. "Okay. See you in a bit."

Liam walked back to the living room and started. The young man wasn't on the sofa. Liam looked over to the fireplace. He was on the floor, his body curled around Mac, the quilt over both of them. Liam smiled to himself. That dog could charm the devil. Bella was again pressed against his legs on top of the quilt. He made himself tea with honey and added a shot of Jameson's for himself. He heard tires crunch and walked out to the porch to greet Tom.

"Hey, Liam. Thought you only took in four-footed strays."

"Hey. He was tucked into the hollow of a tree. He was unconscious. Mac found him and I carried him back here." Liam paused and swallowed. "Put warm clothes on him. He's really skittish, Tom."

The sheriff nodded and the two men walked back inside and over to the fireplace where he lay in the protective custody of Mac and Bella.

"He's young. What the hell was he doin' out here by himself?" Tom demanded.

Liam shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe he knows someone around here. We can ask when he's more awake. He..." Liam stopped speaking at the sound of another car crunching to a stop outside and gave Tom a quizzical glance.

The sheriff looked a bit embarrassed. "I called Doc Clayton, Liam. I was worried about the head injury."

"He was terrified when I said I wanted to take him to the hospital." Liam said annoyed at the man but he understood his concern.

He walked over to the door and opened it just as the older man was coming up the steps. "Hey Doc."

The man smiled and nodded. "Liam. Got a new critter to care for, huh? Runaway?"

"Must be. He's not local." The sheriff responded.

"Ah, let me see. Where is he?"

"On the floor in front of the fireplace." Liam answered. "Doc, he was frightened when I wanted to take him to the hospital so..."

The doctor smiled at the kind stranger who had recently come to their small island community. "I understand. But concussions can be tricky."

The older man strode across the room. He looked down at the comatose young man surrounded by the dog and the cat and smiled. "Animals are great healers." He sighed and turned to the other two men. "Could you put him on the couch? My knees aren't what they used to be."

Liam and Tom smiled at the doctor who had to be in his late seventies and Liam walked over. He patted Mac's head. "Get up, boy." The dog struggled to his feet, yawning widely. Liam picked up the cat and put her on a nearby chair. Tom helped him pick up the slender young man and place him on the sofa. He groaned and opened his eyes. He stiffened when he saw the two strange men and looked balefully at Liam.

"This is Dr. Clayton and the sheriff, Tom Hanson." Liam told him. As soon as Liam said the word, "sheriff", his eyes widened with fear and he struggled to get up. Liam hurried toward him, smiling apologetically. "Easy. Easy. I was worried about the lump on your head."

The stranger did not return the smile. He trembled and Liam saw tears in his eyes.

"Are you lost, son? Were you on your way somewhere?" Tom asked softly.

The doctor approached him. "I'll not hurt you, boy. Just need to see your head. Bumps on the head can be dangerous."

He glanced at Liam, an angry pout on his pale face. He looked at the doctor in resignation and closed his eyes again. The men noticed that his body was shaking and his hands gripped the sofa cushion tightly.

When Dr. Clayton felt his head, the young man hissed and gritted his teeth. "Open your eyes, son." The doctor said quietly. He did and the older man flicked a flashlight on and gazed into the bright blue eyes. "No concussion. Just a bump. How did you hurt yourself?" The man asked gently as he felt over his slim body to make sure there were no other injuries.

He looked up at Liam and then mumbled. "Fell. Rolled down a hill. Hit a rock I think."

"Where are you from?" Tom asked.

He was silent for a moment and then sighed and spoke into the floor. "California."

"California!" All three of the adults said in unison.

"Good God! " The doctor exclaimed.

"How did you get here? How old are you?" The sheriff asked almost at the same time.

"I got rides. I'm twenty-one." He said a bit defiantly, still refusing to look up at them. When the men remained quiet, he glanced up.

They looked at him skeptically. He noticed that the one who had found him – Liam - was standing there with a raised eyebrow. Retreating from the stare of the brown eyes, he lowered his head and mumbled. "I'm...I'm eighteen."

Dr. Clayton retrieved his bag from the floor and walked around the back of the sofa. "I need to clean your wound, son. It may sting a bit."

Liam sat down next to his guest, who tensed. He reached out his hand to touch the young man on the shoulder. "You're safe, now. Would you tell me your name?"

He was quiet for several moments and then answered in a harsh whisper refusing to look any of the men in the eye. "Spike...my name is Spike. He gave a strangled cry when the doctor began to swab the wound and unconsciously grabbed Liam's hand.

The doctor finished quickly and spoke to Liam. "Bring him to my office in a few days. I'll check the dressing and the wound. Do you have Ibuprofen?"

"Yes."

"Give him one for the headache when it bothers him."

Liam nodded.

The sheriff spoke up. "Spike? Were you going somewhere? Is someone waiting for you? Can I call someone to come get you?"

He looked at the men who stared back at him. His eyes filled with fear.

"Have you run away, son?"

Spike almost snarled. "Don't have anyone...no one will miss me."

Liam stood up. "Thanks Doc. We'll come to your office." He nodded at Tom and walked them out onto the porch. The old man got into his ancient Jeep and drove off in the now heavy snowfall.

"He's eighteen, Liam. He's an adult. Not much else I can do, unless you want me to check and see if I anyone has filed a missing person report with his description. Try to get his last name and I can find out if there are any outstanding warrants or reports that he's a runaway." Tom said.

"Let's wait a bit. Let me see if I can get anything out of him first. He's scared and he must be running from something."

Tom nodded. "Be careful, Liam. He has a lot of anger buried inside of him."

Liam nodded and the sheriff got into his car and drove down the long dirt track to the road. He turned and went back inside. Spike hadn't moved, but the animals had gotten closer. Mac had laid his head on the young man's chest and Bella had jumped onto the arm of the sofa behind his head. Spike burst into tears.

Liam was startled. The stranger had revealed anger and fear, but not sadness. He walked over and sat down on the end of the sofa a little distance away. He said nothing. After a few moments he stopped crying, wiping his eyes fiercely with the back of his hand. The set of his shoulders revealed his anger at his weakness. He did not look at Liam. He petted the dog's head and finally leaned back and then grimaced at the pain when his head touched the sofa.

"Are you hungry, Spike?"

"Yes." He said quietly.

"Okay. What do you want, breakfast, lunch or dinner?"

Spike looked at Liam in confusion. "What time is it?"

Liam glanced at the grandfather's clock in the corner. "It's 4:30. But you can have what you want. Pancakes. Hamburger?"

Spike licked his lips. "Do you have French fries?"

"No. But I can make fried potatoes."

He looked puzzled but answered. "Hamburger and fried potatoes. Do you have cheese?"

Liam smiled. "This is Vermont. Every house must have Vermont cheddar cheese."

Spike smiled slightly and wrinkled his nose. "Could I get a shower? I'm really dirty."

"Of course. Listen. Get a shower to get clean and then soak in the tub for a while. It has jets."

The young man raised his eyebrows. "Jets?"

Liam grinned. "It's a spa tub. The water spurts out of jets and circulates. It's one of the things I added when I moved here. Come on."

Spike got up carefully and followed Liam into the bathroom at the back of the house. He gasped when Liam opened the door. The room was huge with a large tub and a separate shower stall. A small wood stove stood in the corner. There were small windows close to the roof around three walls and the ceiling had an enormous skylight.

"Yeah. A bit decadent. I work with wood and sometimes my body needs rejuvenation and the whirlpool helps." Liam grinned and pointed to a large closet. Towels are in there and a terrycloth robe. The washer and dryer are in the back of the closet. We can wash your clothes later."

Spike stood still marveling at the expansive beauty of the room, his angry toughness vanished. "This is bloody beautiful!" He said in awe.

Liam smiled. "I'll leave you to it. Give me a shout when you're almost finished and I'll put the burgers on the grill."

"Grill? Outside? It's snowing." His guest looked at him amazed.

"Yeah. Part of the deck has a little roof. It'll be fine as long as it's not blowing too hard. Take your time. I know I can stay in here for hours." Liam nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

Spike turned on the shower and washed quickly, lathering his body and shampooing his hair vigorously with Liam's sweet-smelling soap. It felt so good. He had been dirty for a long time. He got out of the shower and filled the huge tub, adding some bubble bath he found on the side. Ponce. He realized he didn't know how to turn on the jets. He opened the bathroom door. "Liam. How do I turn on the...the spa thing?"

Liam entered the bathroom and stopped, his mouth open in shock. The boy stood naked in the middle of the room. "Um...um..." He turned quickly and walked to the closet, taking out one of his huge towels. He handed it to William without looking at him and pointed out the button on the wall. "Just turn on this switch and the jets will come on." Liam flicked the button and turned and hurried out of the room.

Spike was surprised at the man's discomfort. Most men couldn't tear their eyes from him. He climbed into the warm water and sank down until his entire body was submerged. Leaning his head carefully against the back of the tub, he closed his eyes and relaxed for the first time in a long time.

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"Hey. Spike. Wake up. Don't want you to drown."

"Oh. Sorry. It was just really warm."

"No problem. I've fallen asleep lots of times. Mac usually licks me awake." Liam smiled. "I'll start the burgers." He exited the room, closing the door behind him.

The water had turned cold and he shivered as he stood up and grabbed the towel that was hanging on the wall. After he removed the excess water from his hair, he stepped from the tub and continued to dry off his body. Once he was dressed in the clean clothes that Liam had placed on the small chair next to the tub, he hung up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, and ran his fingers through his damp hair as he tried to get control the natural curl that he hated so much. He winced when his fingers ran over the bump on the back of his head. Not having much luck without the gel he normally used, he shrugged his shoulders. Sticking his tongue out at his reflection, he turned around, and with his shoulders squared he left the small, steam-warmed room.

TBC