"Come here Spike, and don't make me wait." He moved to her slowly, resentfully, he didn't like the way this was going. When he got to her, she put her hand in his hair in a possessive gesture that he definitely wanted to resent, but at the same time reveled in.
She looked to the other vampires in the room, she was going to kill them all, it was just a coincidence that Spike had been there, she didn't plan on killing him. She placed one hand on his chest and pushed him back, behind her, out of the way.
He backed up, watching, somewhat unhappily. He wanted to be a threat and not only did she separate him from the 'dangerous' vampires, but she turned her back to him.
He left; he knew she wouldn't care if he stuck around or not. It wasn't an hour later that he was sitting in the bar, drinking a beer. Someone appeared in the doorway, "Spike, I thought the stories were wrong."
Spike turned to face the man, sizing him up, realizing that he was one of the ones Buffy was taking on. He must have escaped, "What are you talking about?"
"Stories that you had become the Slayer's lapdog. What's your motto now? If ya can't beat the, kiss up to them?"
Spike clenched his fists going vamp, "I'm nobody's lapdog."
"Lap Vamp then."
Spike punched him and was rewarded by a stinging pain in his brain that knocked him to the ground. He cursed himself, realizing the person was a human, and not a vampire. He stood back up and tried to face down the person, a useless gesture. He finally turned away, gritting his teeth, and left the bar. Bloody rotten chip.