A Bit of the Leather Pants
Chapter Four: A Bit of the Leather Pants
“Where’s my sweater, Dawn?”
“Where are my shoes, Faith?”
“Faith, you can’t wear THAT! It’s indecent!”
“Since when has that stopped her?”
“Shut up and look for your eye patch!”
“Where IS my eye patch, the fancy one?”
“I still can’t find my shoes!”
“Or my sweater!”
“Where’s volume 17?”
“Which is volume 17?”
“The one that’s green and old and written in Latin. Stop looking at me like that, it was relatively specific…”
“My camera! Where’s my camera! OH GOD, where’s my camera?”
“Faith, did you hide Andrew’s camera again?”
“Andrew, your camera is electrical, it won’t work where we’re going. And half the people won’t like you filming them.” Willow’s cool voice broke through the din of voices at the villa her friends inhabited. La Casa de Scooby Deux, they called it. “You’re sweater is in the wash Dawn. Buffy, last time I saw your shoes they were under the sink in the downstairs bathroom. Faith, you probably shouldn’t wear that, how about that red corset I gave you for Christmas? Xander, your eye patch is in my jewelry box. And Giles, I have volume 17 right here.” Everyone gaped at her. “Get on, we’ve only got an hour before our port-key activates.”
Everyone rushed off to finish whatever it was they needed to do. Except Giles. Willow handed him the book he wanted. He stayed in the living room/library and gathered the books he wanted to bring.
Willow sat herself down on the squishy sofa and sighed. There was such chaos to be had in this house at any given time. She loved it. The red headed witch momentarily closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the sofa. Evidently her rest had not been so momentary because when she opened her eyes Faith was coming down the stairs, completely packed.
She was, indeed, wearing the strapless candy apple red corset Willow had bought for last Christmas. It was a fair step up from the contraption she’d had on earlier with all those beads… and buckles. The black leather pants were a staple. And Willow wasn’t one to talk, she was wearing forest green ones herself. Granted, on top she had a long sleeved blue silk shirt, but you know… those in glass houses, right?
Faith got to the bottom of the stairs and put her luggage in the middle of the floor next to Willow’s and Giles’. Then she sat next to Willow on the sofa. “Hey Wills, what’s shaking?”
“Nothing much, you got everything you need?”
Faith drew in a long breath. “Not everything, but I think that’s gonna be okay.” Willow winced internally and took Faith’s hand in hers for a brief squeeze.
Faith was still a bit burnt over Robin up and leaving just before Christmas. He’d kept surprising her for about two years, then decided he couldn’t take HER surprises and surprised them all by leaving. They were all rather shocked. And Dawn was surprisingly murderous on that subject. She and Faith were close. Because (Willow secretly thought) now that Spike was gone, Faith was the Spike of the group. And Dawn had always loved the outcast. It was in her nature.
Speaking of Dawn, she was next down the stairs. In black leather pants Buffy was sure to grumble about and her favorite shirt. It was a ratty old number, with faded pink fabric and black lettering over it that read “The Sex Pistols”. It was Dawn’s last salute to Spike. She’d never throw it out. Dawn deposited her stuff next to Faith’s and took a seat on the couch.
Xander was next down the stairs. He had on his goofy eye patch that Buffy had gotten for him on a whim. It had a kitty on it. Xander sat down with everyone on the couch and broke the leather pants pattern with classy black slacks. The shirt was black and the same silk as Willow’s.
Andrew was next. He walked, well really he fell down the stairs in a pair of pants identical to Xander’s and a top that was the same color as his eyes. Buffy was, as per usual, last to make it down the stairs. She added to the leather pants pool with her own tan ones, on top was a worn black t-shirt.
She dropped her stuff into the sea of luggage in the middle of the room and addressed the group. “Okay guys, weapon check.” This was a new tradition. Buffy just liked to make sure everyone was prepared when they left the house. So the rule was, if you left, you did a weapons check with whoever else was in the house. Buffy produced a stake from the waistband of her pants and a throwing knife from the fancy clip her hair was held up by.
Willow stood next and pulled up her sleeves, exposing throwing knives in wrist sheathes.
Xander’s wrist was home to a collapsible sword.
Dawn’s spiked heels were made of wood, good for staking and she had a stake at the small of her back.
Buffy nodded at everyone in turn. “Giles?” she asked. He flashed wrist sheathes at her quickly while taking a last look at one of his books. Andrew didn’t carry weapons. Everyone, including him, thought that was a bit dangerous. “Okay Wils, do your witchy thang.” Buffy said, stepping back.
Willow got up and stood in front of the mass of luggage. She took a deep breath and put her hand out in front of her while muttering the shrinking spell. There was a rush of wind and the Scoobies watched their luggage shrink to the size of M&Ms. Faith produced a small sack originally made for marbles and scoped the luggage into it. Giles came by and put it in his pocket. He quickly cast an eye over the group. “Good gods, are you ALL wearing leather pants?”
“No.” Willow quickly answered. Giles shook his head and muttered something about first impressions.
“What was that, G?” Faith asked, a bit teasingly.
Giles gave her a stern look. “I said that we’re bound to make the wrong impression if more than half our party are adorned in leather.”
“What kind of wrong impression? Are you talking “we kill animals” wrong or, “Sunday night bondage fun” wrong impression.”
Giles removed his glasses and begun to clean them. “The latter I’m afraid.” Faith nodded and sat back on the couch.
“I’m not changing.” Dawn said, a bit suddenly.
“No one’s changing, Dawnie.” Willow said, looking at her watch. “We’ve only got about 60 seconds to get to portkey-in’.”
Everyone stood and huddled around Giles. He pulled a fork from a pocket in his jacket. Each Scoobie laid a finger on it. They waited for several seconds. Andrew sighed loudly and shifted his weight form foot to foot. “Mr. Giles, maybe there’s something wrong with-” Suddenly everyone screwed their eyes shut and felt a sharp pull behind their navel while getting very dizzy.
When she felt herself hit solid ground Willow opened her eyes to see that she was no longer in the living room of La Casa de Scoobie Deux. They were on a train platform, a few feet away from a scarlet steam engine. Willow looked around her to do a quick head count and make sure everyone was there. Buffy, Faith, Dawn, Giles, Xander, Andrew and herself. Though Willow had nearly missed Dawn and Andrew because they had fallen to their knees with dizziness form the portkey.
A man with a shock of red hair wearing what appeared to be a sort of… dress waved them forward and said “The Contingent from the Watcher’s Council?” Giles, who had come to stand in front of everybody, nodded at him and the man handed him several necklaces with tags on them. They looked like ID cards, the kinds some high school required their teachers to wear.
“Please listen up, you are to keep your Identification on at all times specified. Up until you reach your rooms in the castle, for now. As you’ll notice, the string of your contingent’s ID tags are red. Your compartment on the train will have a red door. At 12:00, there will be lunch in the dining car. Someone will come a bit before to direct you there. There’s another group arriving in about 17 seconds so moving would be advised.”
Willow started a bit and helped Buffy rush everybody out of the way. They made their way over to the train and formed a line to go and find their car. Willow turned to look back at the platform just in time to see a group of men appear out of no where in the spot they had just been. Jeez, Giles had been worried about THEIR appearance?
A/N: Sorry sorry sorry for the wait. Please review. I’ll write more if you review. Sorry if it sucks. Or is too short.