Xander hardly ever thought about what he'd given up for Spike. No nine-to-five, no picket fence, no wife and screaming kids. He'd given up on any chance at a 'normal' life after Buffy had appeared on the scene.
Then Spike was gone, off to get his 'problem' fixed, and Xander was on his own. Lost. Empty. Until now.
The suction at Xander's neck increased, and he finally accepted that he wasn't being claimed as he'd first thought. Spike was back, unchipped, and out for blood. Sacrificial demon magnet blood.
The torn wrist forced between his lips was a welcome surprise.
The leather pants were new, the tags still lying beside their bed, but Xander didn't care about that now. His entire being was focussed on the body behind his, grinding him into the raw red brick of the crumbling alley wall. He'd happily give everything he was to feel cool skin against his back, to feel hard flesh between his thighs, to feel his Sire taking what belonged to him and only him.
The pants never stood a chance against Spike's urgent, feral, need. The perfectly stitched seams were torn with ease. A willing sacrifice to the god of sex.
"You're absolutely sure that's what she said?"
Spike rolled his eyes.
"You don't think she maybe mistranslated something the stars or Miss Edith whispered to her? She hasn't just decided it's time for payback?"
"Dru might be as mad as a hatter, luv, but she never screws with mojo. If she says that's what she needs, that's what she needs."
Xander reread the amazingly short list of ingredients Dru had delivered, along with a smile and an announcement that she'd be bringing 'Daddy' back as good as new.
Heart of Slayer
Tongue of Witch
Bottle of Nettle Wine