A/N: Just a fun little oneshot based on a prompt issued by Geliot99 who also provided Betaed :)

"Oh, come on," Buffy grumbled, pulling at a twig that had somehow managed to get tangled in her bootlace. She'd found three vamps while making a general sweep at the overlook and was taking a shortcut through the woods bordering Restfield cemetery on her way home. The temperature had dropped and the idea of taking an extra long, very hot shower was more than a little tempting. Especially after the hellish week she'd had.

As she neared the edge of the cemetery, the sounds of a fight reached her through the trees.

"Ohh yeah, that's it. Give it me good, Slayer!" Spike shouted, an eagerness to his voice.

What the hell?

Buffy groaned inwardly.

What stupid stunt is he up to now?

"You'd better be afraid!" a second, familiar voice countered. "Ooooooh I'm gonna slay you so hard…"

Is that— is that Harmony? Pretending to be me? What Twilight Zone hellscape did I just walk into?

Buffy's face screwed up in disgust.

Is this some kind of evil training session? Oh, this I've got to see…

She crept closer, being careful to stay hidden.

With any luck maybe they'll stake each other by accident. She mused but then straightened her shoulders.

She moved closer to the edge of the forest, finding shelter behind a large oak with a good view of the two blonds exchanging blows. It seemed like they were moving at reduced speed, almost like students in a martial arts class. Not as though it were a serious fight. Spike gripped Harmony's stake-welding arm, twisting it behind her back.

"Oh no! The big bad meanie got me!" Harmony cried out in a ridiculous impression of Buffy.

Oh, she is so dead… deader… I do not sound anything like— Her thought derailed when Spike let out a sensual moan.

"Yeah, that's right. Big Bad's got you real good, Slayer," he leered and Buffy could just make out the lecherous smirk on his face as he gripped her by the hips.

"Spike, stop that… Let go…" Harmony giggled. "Okay, so where do you want to do this?"

"I'm not finished."

Harmony huffed petulantly, pouting up at him from over her shoulder.

Spike held her with her back against his chest, one arm around her middle, stroking the soft fabric of the pale blue sweater Harmony was wearing. "Come on, sugar, you know how I like it— What it does to me."

Spike's low tone filtered over to Buffy on the breeze, sending a shiver up her spine, and something snapped in her gut. What are they— Wait a sec… is that my sweater?

Oh my God! It totally is! That's my sweater! Totally owe Dawn an apology— Crap…

Harmony threw her head back, cracking Spike in the forehead, and delivered a back-kick, missing him entirely but reigniting the faux-fight all the same. Spike let out a crow of laughter as the fight led them through a cluster of headstones and around the corner of a mausoleum.

Buffy darted silently through the trees looking for a new hiding place. Not finding one, she shot out, ducking behind tombstones, not wanting to give away her presence. She wanted her sweater but she also wanted to know what new and twisted plan Spike was cooking up.

His words played back to her, "…you know how I like it— What it does to me."

What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway?

Was it possible he just missed getting his ass kicked?

Because all he had to do was ask.

No, better yet, how the heck did Harmony get my freaking sweater?! That bitch is so dusted— After I get my sweater back!

Buffy was seething by the time she settled in behind a large grave marker, poking her head out from behind her hiding spot.

Seriously though, what the hell are they doing?

As though on cue, Harmony practically smothered Spike with a kiss just before shoving him into the wall of a crypt featuring a pair of broken stained glass windows set into the wall. Spike stretched his arms out along the high ledges, gripping the carved stone and Buffy watched in shock as Harmony ripped his shirt open.

"That's it, Slayer, do your worst," Spike growled huskily as he turned his head to the side giving Buffy an unhindered view of his face. If he'd opened his eyes he would be sure to see her gawking.

Buffy slammed a hand across her mouth to stifle a surprised gasp as Harmony slid the stake down the plains of his stomach, notching the tip in the band of his jeans just behind his belt buckle. Spike hissed with anticipation, his bared chest heaving with unnecessary breath.

"Is that a stake in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" Harmony teased.

"Maybe you should frisk me," Spike murmured.

Oh my God… Are they—

Harmony dropped to her knees in the damp grass, wiggling her butt like a dog about to get a milk bone, as she unhooked Spike's belt and undid his pants.

Panicked, Buffy shot back behind the headstone sitting with her back pressed against the cold marble. This can not be happening… I just wanted my sweater… and these two idiots are playing a sex game! A me-based sex game? That's, that's, that— that is so— Oh… oh no, no, no… Oh my God!

Buffy's eyes darted around looking for a way out of her hiding place, unfortunately, the only concealed route was the one she'd taken to get there and she didn't want to backtrack to the tree line, not when the exit was in the opposite direction. The very open and visible direction.

She peered behind her shoulder at the couple. Spike's face bore a placid expression. His eyes were still closed but he had released one hand from the window ledge. His bare torso nearly glowed in the moonlight, his well-defined muscles tapered down disappearing behind Harmony's bobbing head as he gripped her hair.

Buffy jerked her head back, eyes wide in shock.

Could they have picked a worse spot for their kinky shit?

"Ohh, yeah… that's it…"

Buffy's stomach did a weird little flip at the sound of his voice.

Ohhh, no that is so not it… God, I'm gonna need about three weeks of Disney movies to wash tonight out of my brain…

She chanced a quick look and immediately wished she hadn't. Spike's eyes were closed in concentration, jaw clenched.

I mean, they're obviously busy, maybe if I run really fast they just won't notice—

"Oi, watch the teeth, luv…" Spike growled.

This time Buffy had to suppress a laugh. Serves you right… She thought, ducking back behind the grave marker.

Despite saving herself the visual, Buffy could still hear every filthy word that fell from Spike's lips and it made her cheeks flame. She wrapped her arms around herself to warm her hands and looked skyward, throwing out a prayer to anyone who might be listening.

How the hell do I get myself into these situations? And why am I hiding?

She had to think about that one for a minute.

Because I want my sweater… right?

Spike moaned, a litany of curses and praise cutting through the air.

This is so not worth that sweater… nope… no to the biggest nope—

"Oh, God, Slayer… that's it…"

"Oh eww, eww, eww…" Buffy muttered to herself, burying her face in her hands.

Spike groaned, clearly reaching his peak. "Buffy! Buffy… Buffy… Buffy…"

It was as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over her head, freezing Buffy in place. The sound of her name on his lips as he came, echoed in her head. It was shocking, disgusting even— or it should be.

No, no, definitely disgusting… but also kinda not so much… There was something oddly intriguing about the situation, despite how much she wanted to deny it.

So what if he's got a surprisingly amazing body hidden under all those layers? He's still evil, annoying and… and short… Taller than me in heels, but still… She argued with herself. There was a kind of power in the thought of him fantasizing about her, screaming her name as he came hard. She was finding it almost as intriguing as it was sick, especially since she'd never experienced having anyone cry out her name like that, it was something of an ego trip— for about a second.

"Oww! What the bloody hell was that for!" Spike growled suddenly.

Buffy barely had a chance to reprimand herself before Harmony began screeching her head off.

"Like oh my, God, Spike, how can you seriously ask me that! That's the fifth time this week!"

Buffy's spine stiffened, He's done this before?

Harmony continued, "I'm busting out some of my best moves, playing your stupid Slayer fantasy game and it's always Buffy this and Buffy that! Buffy, Buffy, Buffy!"

"Yeah? That's a laugh coming from the bint who wanted to play 'Master of the Manner' in some tired old French Maid getup? Who knows, maybe I'd be more inclined if your 'best moves' didn't involve so much bloody chafing!" Spike bit back.

"AHHHGGHH! THAT'S IT!" Harmony screamed. "I am soooo freaking done! I'm done with you and your crappy music and bad attitude and- and this crazy stupid-weird obsession with the Slayer!"

Buffy chanced another glance toward the two vampires. Spike had already had the good sense to tuck himself away and was digging in his pocket with an almost bored look on his face while Harmony raged on.

"I've done every kinky thing you've asked me to! Including wearing this dumb last-season sweater!" she let out an irritated (and slightly muffled) growl as she struggled to pull the sweater over her head, throwing it down on the ground.

Slipping his lighter back into his pocket, Spike took a hit of his cigarette, snorting a laugh when Harmony flicked her hair out of her face, trying to regain some composure. She struck a pose with her hands on her hips resembling Wonderwoman, but missing the mark in her sheer, lacy pink bra.

"I don't deserve this! We're through!! Maybe you can see if your precious Buffy will play with you, because I'm done."

"Done. Right, got it. Just don't forget all your frilly bits n bobs when you clear out. Don't much fancy tripping over your sodding unicorns," he replied coolly, not caring either way.

Harmony gaped at him in disbelief and Buffy couldn't help wondering if she'd expected Spike to start groveling. It took several beats longer than it should have before Harmony finally realized he wasn't about to fling himself at her feet and stomped off with an angry shout.

Spike watched her go, tapped ash from his cigarette, and scooped down to pick up the discarded sweater. Buffy watched as he turned it in his hands carefully wiping grass clippings from the fuzzy fabric.

He sighed, expelling a plume of smoke. "Good riddance. Stupid chit," he grumbled, still checking the garment for damage. He held it up at arm's length, obscuring his face from view and Buffy took her chance, darting over to a sizable statue.

She had no more than concealed herself (finally able to stand up fully) when Spike's head jerked up.

"Someone there?" he bristled, the hint of a growl in his voice.

Buffy's heart pounded in her chest. Her mind was still whirling with the scene she'd witnessed. What am I doing? Hiding? Still? Why don't I just run? She chanced a few steps forward, her shoes scuffling a mound of damp leaves.

"Know someone's out there, show yourself!" Spike bellowed.

Buffy took a deep breath, straightened the front of her jacket, and stepped out from behind the statue like she was just out on patrol, ready to face Spike with her usual cool indifference (she hoped).

Spike's body went rigid, eyes wide as he clutched the pale blue sweater in his hands and looked down, seeming to realize what he was holding. He shoved the fuzzy bundle behind his back bashfully. The act made Buffy arch an eyebrow. If he had any idea what she had seen and heard only moments before she doubted he'd be so ashamed of a damn sweater.

"Ah, Slayer, there you are. Wondered when I'd be seeing you," he said, trying to force some of his usual brashness into his tone, and failing miserably.

She eyed him critically, wondering how she should proceed. The whole situation was utterly absurd and yet she found herself trying to suppress a laugh. He was twisted, that was for certain, but there was still something about him: an odd vulnerability she couldn't quite shake.

A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as she gestured toward him with a wave of her hand. "Is that my sweater?" she asked, wanting to see if he'd own up to it.

He pulled it out from behind his back with a look of faux surprise. "Oh ah, is it?"

She gave him a dubious look that told him point blank she knew it was.

Spike sighed dejectedly, "Yeah alright, you caught me. Nicked the bloody sweater. Suppose you want it back?"

An odd sensation washed over her as she considered the question. Along with a new and kind of twisted curiosity about the man in front of her and his obvious obsession with her. It was weird, but for some reason she couldn't explain she was strangely flattered.

She glanced down at the sweater, thinking of the scene she just witnessed, and inclined her head. "No you keep it, something tells me that your little playmate isn't going to be wearing it anymore anyway."

Spike's jaw dropped, shock and shame evident on his face.

Buffy turned away toward home, but before she had taken more than five steps she glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh and, Spike, next time you want to steal some of my stuff, for kinky graveyard role-play— Try the back of the closet."