<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://resimoyla.net/w/26913/1920x1200/26913-1920x1200-Emilie-de-Ravin.jpg)</div><br/><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_u">ENTER</span><br/><strong>name</strong>: Buffy Summers<br/><strong>time</strong>: 4:45 P.M. Monday 12-20<br/><strong>Tags</strong>: Mr. Michael Kane, Eric Caulfield<br/><hr/><br/>It hadn't been a dream, but Buffy would likely have deja-vu the moment she saw Kane's face. It hadn't been compassion, or concern for her ex-lover Eric. It hadn't been a forgotten item. Buffy wanted to touch base with her professor. She had walked half-way off campus, thinking about the pain she had left him in. In a way, she just wanted to move passed the whole relationship. In another way, Buffy was half expecting herself to give him another shot. She had turned around to return to him, it was almost Christmas. He probably didn't have anyone to go home to. However whens he walked through the door she walked directly into her watcher.<br/><br/>She was carrying one book with notes in it, her purse was larger than usual, as it was carrying books as well. She was dressed in hip hugging jeans and a sweater, she looked like she had taken a prat fall. Her papers floated out of her book, and her whole body stretched across the floor. She had no idea of the man standing above her. It had felt like Eric and that's why she had pretended to fall over. But it wasn't. This man was darker, more aged, more serious in tone, and Buffy didn't think that that was possible. Her sweater was brushing up on the right side of her neck, and it had completely fallen off of her left shoulder. It looked like some one had let a red towel fall on to her upper body, her skin was exposed in odd places. Her hair had collapsed out of any sense of order. She almost spoke, but her words couldn't form. She was intimidated by Michael. So she smiled and started to laugh. The experiences was fleeting, aas if she had just gotten off of a circus ride.