Xander (twenty-three-year-old Xander, that was never going to stop being weird) had asked if her mind had been boggled. Willow was pretty sure that, at this point, she actually was boggle, she was physically encapsulating the concept of ‘boggled’ in five feet and six inches of freaked out red-head. It had been hard to keep from making audible exclamations in public during her brief foray onto the network, especially as the caffeine from the cappuccino she’d had to order in the service of waylaying suspicion and removal from the coffee house had hit her system. Buffy had a sister. Angel had a doppleganger except...sans evil soulless stuff. Xander was twenty-three and had almost married Anya. This was all without the things that were escaping from boggle-y to downright uncomfortable. The Oz thing had so many twists and turns in the mental process that she couldn’t even figure out if she should be upset, if she was allowed to be upset because, her!Oz was still back home wasn’t he? He was back home with chocolate sprinkles and he still loved her and nothing was weird except for the giant hellmouth under the city where they lived and the fact that they sometimes fought vampires and the whole werewolf and witch thing but...normal. Sunnydale normal. Plus there were bigger things here, a whole new apocalypse to worry and research over, and she had to focus on that.
There was a squeal from the entrance to the coffee shop and Willow jerked her head up with caffeinated speed as one of the other reasons to keep her chin up rocketed through the door and threw her arms around Willow. “Buffy!” she yelped back as she returned the hug and grinned “I’m...well I can’t say I’m happy to be here because the world is ending and stuff but I’m really, really happy to see you!” She pulled back and gave her friend a quick once-over. “You’re really you? Not a very convincing bizarro-world-Buffy-impersonator? I feel like I should check since this is all...bizarre. Do you know anything only the real Buffy would know?”