Spike put a hand to his neck and grimaced; less from the pain and more based on the damage that the blood was going to do to his current attire. Ugh. That was going to be a bitch to get out of his precious jacket. He wiped his red stained fingers onto his t-shirt - that he didn't mind dirtying up a bit - and looked out at Buffy. There was absolutely no doubt that he wore concern in his eyes. Shielded concern. Spike was trying to look tough and in control. He was positive that if he swooped over and tried to give Buffy the attention he wanted to give her that he'd be shoved off and frowned upon. Those things generally happened when one was better acquainted with the half of him that wasn't all that pleasant.
...even if Spike thought that he was all around pleasant, all the time. Pleasant, but far from cuddly. Vampires were not cuddly. Cuddly, sparkly, none of it. Not unless you were Harmony.
"Go back to the discussion of blood and we'll be on what I want," Spike declared, arms folding over his chest, "but I reckon no one really cares anyway." He shrugged and tilted his head to the side, looking Buffy over cautiously. "So you're all back, then? No need to skip off and declare your undying love for Harmony as your best mate while shopping for, er - what was the name of it - Prada?" It didn't seem like she was back on key with the concept of skipping off to the mall anytime soon, but it was really always best to double check and be safe. After all, Spike would take the life-threatening, face-punching Buffy over any version who thought that hanging out with Harmony, of all the things in the world, was a good idea.