She pushed him back and this time he did drop his bag of blood. That wasn't really important anymore though; the fact that she had just jabbed him in the chest and, in the process, spilled more blood was what was irking him now. His shoulders pressed against the solid surface behind him, Spike shot Glory a glare that he couldn't suppress.
"Right, tell someone who actually gives a damn," he told her, rolling his eyes. He didn't care much for her tacky fashion sense. All he knew was that it got to her head when he went on about it. And if she planned on giving him hell? Spike would more than gladly return the favor.
Even when he didn't have a soul, Spike wasn't willing to give Dawn up to this bitch. Did she really think that she stood a chance at it now? "You are the most retarded person I've ever had the misfortune to meet," Spike stated flatly, "Don't you remember what happened the last time you laid your hands on me? Did you get what you wanted? No. You just wasted a whole hell of a lot of our time. And that's about to happen again, love, because if I tell you what you want, I'm not going to get anything that I want. And what I want is to keep the Slayer's respect. Tossing in the towel for a bitch like you isn't going to do me any good."
That said, he pushed away from the wall and tried to make a run for it.