Home again, home again, jiggety jig

Or did Xander get to say that when he was just coming back to school from the place he grew up? He was pretty sure he didn't get to call Chez Harris home anymore, at least.

Xander shoved a plastic footlocker on wheels though the door to Room 406, and tossed an overstuffed laundry bag after it, in the vague direction of his closet.

Kneeling by his bed, he opened the footlocker to check on its contents. Yup, scale models of all Enterprise versions, Voyager, Defiant, and a Klingon warship, present and undamaged in transit. Full run of New Mutants...Recent Anomalies, the Warren Ellis -scripted Excalibur Excelsior issues? Bagged, boarded, and checked. Strangers In Paradise Kismet still hiding on the bottom beneath the superhero comics where no one would see them and force him to try to sound convincing when he says he's totally reading for the lesbian sex and not because he enjoys the plot? Check.

He closed the lid, clicked the combination lock shut, and slid the whole shebang under his bed.

Xander stared at the bag of laundry hard, willing the clothes to not be wrinkled and dirty when he opened it. Unlike, say, they were when he scooped them off the floor of his closet at home in Sunnydale and crammed them into the bag in the first place.

He opened the bag and winced. Right; note to self: develop reality-altering powers. Everybody else around here seemed to have them - why not him?

Xander slung the bag of clothes back over his shoulder and headed out the door towards the laundry room.