Spike was both really amused by that, being not a geek, but an aficianado of Batman comics and movies and all of that rot, and somewhat ruffled. He had a soul now. This was making him remember thoughts about what a great villain the Joker was.
And the bleedin' Joker was right the hell on top of him, whispering conspiratorially. Spike flicked ashes off the tip of the cigarette and furrowed his eyebrows, looking over Jack's arm, hair, all of it, blue eyes moving swiftly and with focus. This was a comic book baddie made flesh. He knew he was here somewhere, knew it, but...
... seeing was believing.
That grin came back, and Spike inhaled a long drag.
"Railroad spikes," Spike said. He smiled, slightly. The soul in him made the smile bitter, laced with something it would not have been a few weeks ago. "Torture with railroad spikes."