Summary: It's the eve of the rest of their lives.

Prologue

The motel bed was stiff and firm, the sheets rough and paper-like. Dawn settled herself beneath the covers and cringed at how they itched and scraped at her tender flesh. Any other night, she might care more, but not tonight. Tonight, she was grateful to be alive enough to rest. She had lost so many friends, so fast. The past few weeks blurred around her until it was hard for her to pinpoint any specific event. It was all just a whirling dance of pain and blood and heartache and tragedy.

Dawn could hear sobbing through the cardboard-thin walls. She couldn't even begin to guess who it could be. Everyone was on edge tonight; everyone had lost someone special. At least Buffy made it out. At least the old gang is still here. But did that really matter so much? Was Xander's life really worth more than Anya's was? Dawn knew immediately that the answer was yes. She had loved them all, but as far as battles went, she knew that this one had ended well. The casualties could have been greater, so great that none made it at all. They had been lucky, and that was the only way to look at it. Any other way would just lead to more tears, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that yet. When did I become so cynical anyway?

Dawn groaned and flipped onto her back, staring at the picture on the wall opposite the bed. It was a peaceful lake scene with ducks and lily pads and trees. She wished that she could disappear into the painting where the world was calm and beautiful and the sun always shined, but a loud bang resounded from the room next door and the picture fell to the floor. Why do I get stuck with all the noisy neighbors? She sighed and looked for a television to drown out the guttural moans that pounded through the wall and assaulted her ears, but there wasn't one. Leave it to us to find the crappiest hotel in the desert. Her eyes dropped to the painting once more, cocking her head to accommodate for its position.

A knock at the door tore Dawn's gaze from the fallen picture. She couldn't imagine who would be outside her room at three in the morning. She dragged herself to a sitting position, letting the sheets fall into a stiff pile around her waist. Looking down at her arms, she half-expected to find paper-cuts instead of the red bumps from the itchiest part of the comforter. Dawn lifted herself out of the bed, stumbling in the semi-darkness as she made her way across the small room. Not bothering with the peephole, she pulled open the door, freezing when she saw who lay waiting on the other side. "What are you doing here?"

Andrew sighed, "I couldn't sleep and everyone else was a little busy. Yours was the only door that wasn't all noisy."

"You were eavesdropping outside my door?"

"No… well, I mean yes, but I didn't mean to. I just didn't want to be alone. I can, ummm, go away… if you want." He shifted his weight, tugging at the corner of his tee shirt self-consciously.

Dawn shook her head and took his hand, pulling him into the darkened depths of her room as she shut the door behind him. "The bed's nothing to brag about, but you can lay down if you're tired. I probably won't be getting much sleep tonight anyway."

Andrew wandered toward the edge of the room, leaning down to pick up the fallen painting. He studied it for a moment before hanging it up once more. "I like your room better. Mine has a picture of the desert and snakes. I don't like snakes very much." He made his way toward the bed, pausing to readjust his cotton pajama bottoms. Dawn noticed how dangerously low they had begun to slip on his thin hips, and it appeared she wasn't the only one. His hands moved to the front and clumsily knotted the tie that held them up. He plopped down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands. He stared at her for a few seconds before sighing once more.

"You still think you should have died today, don't you?" Dawn settled herself down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, and she pulled away immediately.

"I don't deserve to be here, Dawn. Anya shouldn't be buried in the big hole that used to be Sunnydale. It should be me. I killed my best friend. Why should I be here when Jonathan's dead?" Andrew whimpered and scooted himself backward so that he could wriggle underneath the covers.

Dawn rolled her eyes and shoved him sideways, sliding in beside him. She barely had a moment to get settled before he turned to her, crushing her against his chest and sobbing into her hair. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know none of you believe me, but he was my best friend. Jonathan was my best friend and I murdered him and now I have nobody. I'm all alone, forever."

She nestled herself against his chest, tilting her head slightly to look him in the eye. "You'll never be alone, Andrew. You'll always have me."

He tried to smile down at her, but it looked forced through his tears. "I know you're just saying that, but thanks, Dawn. You'll always be my peach."

"And you'll always be my geek. Now or you going to go to sleep or am I going to have to knock you out?"

Andrew sniffled, then snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling Dawn with him. She smiled, reaching a hand up to brush a stray lock of blonde from his forehead. She couldn't be sure of what was going to happen tomorrow or where the road was going to take them, but if Dawn could be sure of anything, it was this moment, with this boy.

"Good night."

Dawn smiled once more, then closed her eyes. The prologue was finished; it was time for the story of their lives to begin.