He knocked her arm to the right. The blow didn't entirely miss home, but it only grazed at his ribs rather than knocking him in the gut entirely. The hit hurt, a lot more than he expected, but it wasn't enough to put him down any. It'd be bruised later. So long as he broke nothing and walked out of here alive, which he certainly would without a doubt be doing with Ruby at his back, then Sam wasn't gonna complain. He had asked for it, after all. Gritting his teeth, he swung a fist to the right, slamming it into the side of her face. He was pretty good with his punches, swinging repeatedly in a quick succession. One diving in right after the other, each arm moving until he caught her in an uppercut that sent her stumbling back a few paces.
"More," he urged. She darted forward, tackling him into a glass case that had been propped up in the corner. It had pictures, awards, shiny little family memorabilia that Sam himself personally knew nothing about. The glass cracked and shattered when they toppled into it, tiny bits and pieces stabbing into their flesh as they struggle against each other to keep from falling over entirely. Taking this moment to his advantage, Sam lunged to the side and grabbed her by the hair, slamming her face into the cabinet with as much force as he could physically muster. More than once. He kept going, knowing that by the time he was finished with her that the paled face of the vampire in his grasp would be nothing short of a bloody mess.
He had been right too. Stepping back a few paces, spitting out a mouthful of his own blood, Sam glared at her as she spun around. Royally fucked, her face was. Good. It didn't seem to matter to her. He had spit up his blood. The scent was tempting her. Keeping her in the fight. She looked him over hungrily and Sam knew, then and there, that this was what he had needed to taunt her into giving him her all.
For a brief second, Sam found himself looking over at Ruby. He still felt a little bit intimidated by her presence, like maybe he was supposed to be doing something less or maybe even something more - he wasn't sure - but he knew that he couldn't let it get in the way of what he was about to do. Not right now. Sam needed to keep his game face on. His game face which, at the moment, happened to be the dark set of his eyes, glaring down the bleeding vampire as he waited for her next move.
A few more punches were taken and given, this time with a lot more drive than before. It wasn't until Sam misinterpreted her movement - she'd faked a left and instead had hooked to the right - that he found her slamming him back into the field of glass spread across the carpeting below. He winced, feeling the shards digging into his shoulders. Then he looked up, only to find the vampire launching herself at his throat like a rabid animal. She wanted that blood. Real bad.