Being stuck in a tent in the middle of the desert had its compensations, of course, Wesley thought. There was a reasonable amount of privacy - or at least there was an absence of Xander and Illyria, who however much he loved them, were always there - but there was also an undeniable element of the tedious. He didn't mind checking artefacts for charms, particularly - or wouldn't have, if any of them had possessed any, and he actually had some work to do. He didn't even mind the vague worry about Spike, who had insisted on coming with him, and was, as a result, stuck in the tent all day and left with very little to do at night, mostly because it gave the other man endless opportunities to think of decidedly inventive things to do with tent rope. But on the whole...it was an unwelcome reminder of how things would be once they got home, an unending stream of busywork that paid, but didn't challenge.  
 
Spike was out, now that the sun had set, possibly hunting sand-demons. Not that he was likely to find any, but they were the only vague likelihood of any sort of supernatural activity around here, and Wesley really couldn't blame him. 
 
He found that he was less and less inclined to regard the necessity of some kind of income as any sort of selling point. He was ready to go back to the house on the outskirts, to the odd, lazy life they had so quickly settled into, to the magic that seemed to be wrapping itself around him like slow-moving water, insulating him in pleasure. 
 
On the other hand, perhaps he should have been a little more concerned about the boredom factor. In fact, he should have been a lot more concerned, because - 
 
"I got bored." 
 
Wesley stared at Spike. Then he stared behind him at the horse, hoping that it would somehow evaporate. It didn't. It stood there, looking equally bored, a bit dusty, and very much like a horse. 
 
A black horse. 
 
"Where did you get it?" He realised it was not the most rational response, but they were miles from anywhere, and he really couldn't think of anyone in the near vicinity who would not only own horses, but have brought one of them to a not particularly interesting dig. 
 
"Went to Luxor." 
 
Of course he had. He'd gone to Luxor in the middle of the night - probably having liberated one of the dig vehicles to do so - to steal a horse. Not hunting sand-demons, then, after all. 
 
"Why?" 
 
"Because it's a desert," Spike said slowly, looking at Wes as though the sun had fried what remained of his brains. Wesley was beginning to wonder that, himself. 
 
"Um?" 
 
"So I'm not gonna carry you off in one those crappy jeeps, am I?" 
 
"Carry - me - " 
 
"Wes, you're bored. I'm bored. It's supposed to be a holiday, and you're doing the most pointless job I've ever seen you work on. So we're going home, and you're calling Miles. He'll probably think this is 'absolutely fascinating'." 
 
Yes, Miles probably would. He actually liked archeology. Wesley, despite admitting to the occasional flicker of interest in new discoveries, really didn't. 
 
He wanted to say something sensible. Something that would make Spike take the horse back, and leave him free to carry on working. Except..he didn't. He wanted to go back. He'd had enough of sand, and dust, and canvas, and the endless undulating vista that stretched for miles. He'd had enough of the commonplace. 
 
"I'm a pretty terrible rider," he admitted, and cursed himself for having opened his mouth. 
 
With unusual restraint, Spike visibly closed his mouth on the obvious answer, and contented himself with smirking. "Don't have to be any good, do you?" he pointed out after a pause. "Just hang on." 
 
"Ah. That would be because you're doing the...er...abducting, yes?" He frowned suddenly. "I refuse to be slung over that...thing...like a sack of potatoes." 
 
"Nah...that's for before the sheik begins his seduction. Don't need to do that, do I?" 
 
"Sheik?" Wesley said faintly, and then - "No." Obviously. 
 
"C'mon." Spike tugged him towards the horse, which looked at them both with a fair amount of contempt. Wesley didn't blame it. 
 
* 
 
The wonderful thing about vampiric strength was that the usual undignified scramble to actually get onto the horse hadn't happened. Wesley had simply...well. Been thrown up there, he supposed, though at least he wasn't face downwards. 
 
He wrapped his arms around Spike, and just held on, wondering if they weould ever take the horse back to Luxor, and not really caring. 
 
The stars pinwheeled overhead as they left the dig behind, and for the first time in days, Wesley found the desert beautiful again. 
 
Abduction was, he had discovered, a thing of wonder. 
 
Though he still didn't want to know about the sheik bit. 
 
*