Spike's jaw clenched and there was a flash of an expression of hurt, of vulnerability, and then it was gone.  He gets up and moves across the room, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter as he goes, draping himself over one of the vinyl chairs.  He lights up a cigarette and takes a drag.  Never fails, he thinks.  Try to do the right thing, women treat you like shite.  He should've learned his lesson long ago, treated women like crap the way his Sire did.  Women never did this to *him*.<br/><br/>