Everyone at school had heard that her mom was missing, had been missing for several days. While most didn't really know what was going on in Sunnydale, about the vampires and demons and whatever other monsters might be lurking, they all knew that missing more than a few hours was a very, very bad thing here. A likely dead kind of bad. A few even knew, even if they'd never admit it, that dead might be better than some of the other possibilities. Sunnydale being Sunnydale, this caused a strange sort of sympathy and almost gentleness at the school.

Nobody was making pointed comments or petty taunts at her in the halls. No mocking comments about bookworms and no life when she made her way to or from the library. The teachers didn't call on her unless she raised her hand first. They didn't assign her as a tutor for any of the jocks. Xander brought her a fun-sized chocolate bar each day. Oz lurked near her at the school, occasionally giving her a hug or a small smile, an attempt to comfort without the useless words. Others did offer those useless words.

That the police would find her. That her mom would be okay. That things would get better. That things weren't so bad.

Willow knew otherwise. It was that bad, it wouldn't get better, and while the police might be the ones to find her mom's body, she doubted that anyone would see Sheila Rosenberg alive again. It left her stomach feeling tangled and heavy, and she couldn't quite sort out how she felt. Willow knew that she should feel afraid for her mother's health, worried about her safety and that something awful might... perhaps already had happened. That she should want desperately to have her mother back, safe and undamaged from the ordeal.

It just wasn't working that way. There was a little worry for her mother, but there was none of the desperate need to have her back that she had seen in movies and from others who'd had relatives disappear. Anger... a large part of that was directed towards her mother, not towards whatever or whoever had prevented her from returning. And a bit of guilt that she wasn't more upset, more desperately hopeful for her mother's safe return, more angry at the monsters out there that might have killed her mom.

At least tonight she had her regular coffee not-a-date with Angel. He was a good listener, and he wouldn't try to tell her how she should feel, or more of the empty words that 'it would all be better soon' or the lie that 'her mom would be just fine'.

When the sun set, she was ensconced at one of the smaller tables in the back of the Espresso Pump, with thick books on calculus and advanced geometry set in front of her. Part of that was an effort to distract herself from her tangled emotions, and a larger part was the puzzling fact that advanced math books seemed to work on teenagers in a manner remarkably like crosses on vampires. She was working on her fourth cup of coffee, and hoping that the rest of the night would be more bearable.

"I hope that's not all homework," Angel's familiar voice carried a bit more of his accent than normal. "I would have expected you to be long finished with that by this time anyhow."

Willow smiled at Angel, motioning towards the empty seat. "It's the weirdest thing - advanced math books work on teens kind of like crosses do on vampires. Except maybe a little less smoke and blistering, and a lot more eye rolling and mumbling. So not too much like crosses. And math books are perfectly acceptable for someone Jewish... I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Angel sat down, his expression one that suggested he was holding back laughter.

Willow moved some of the books to stop blocking Angel's view. "I'm glad to see you. I know that you won't lie to be about... well..."

"What's wrong, and what do you mean about people lying?" Angel frowned.

"My mother disappeared over the weekend. I'm... I'm not sure how I feel, because it's all tangled and twisted and really confusing, but I don't really like the feeling, and people keep lying to me," Willow gave him a look that said he'd better not try to say nobody would lie in this situation.

"Who's lying and why?" Angel's eyebrows had lifted, and he sipped at his coffee.

"Almost everybody. Some are telling me that she'll be okay. That the police will find her, bring her home. That everything's going to be just fine." Willow reminded herself not to glare at Angel - this wasn't his fault. "They're lying. She won't be fine, everything won't be just fine in a few days."

"Well..." Angel sipped at his coffee, visibly searching for the right words. "From the experience of age, the tangle of emotions will... not quite go away, but it'll fade. It won't be quite as intense. That'll take time, maybe a lot of time, but it will happen."

Willow considered his words. Angel wasn't saying that everything would be okay, that her mom would be fine. He wasn't saying anything that would bring up the angry, guilty tangle that was the part of her that wasn't certain she wanted her mom to be fine. He was saying that in time, the raw emotions would blunt, fade... become less harsh and heavy and confusing. And he wasn't claiming that it would happen soon.

Willow gave him a weak smile, "Thanks, Angel."

He looked quite startled, "For what?"

"For being honest with me." Willow sipped at her coffee, and sighed. "For not lying to make me feel better about Mom. For not trying to tell me how I really feel."

Angel looked at her, brooding while he sipped at his coffee. Perhaps he was reflecting on his own memories of terrible fates, for the guilt that he felt over the things that he'd done. Perhaps he was considering the many things and people that he'd lost. Or perhaps he was just being a typical guy and unsure how to deal with an emotional female.

"It means a lot to me," Willow whispered.

"I don't know what to say." Angel shook his head, and then managed a half smile, "You're welcome?"

Willow managed a real smile, and reached over to touch his hand, "I mean it. There have only been three people who haven't lied to me about this. Oz, who's doing his quiet best to let me know that he's there, you, and Giles. Giles… he kind of stammers that Sunnydale is far from safe, he's most dismayed by the whole thing, and offers me a cup of tea before changing the subject. Not exactly helpful, but he's trying. I just… I'm sure he appreciates me helping, and he'd be terrified of the computer without either me or Ms. Calendar to handle that, but… it's not really about me with him, it's about Buffy, y' know? He kind of leaves me thinking that he's worried I'll fall apart and cry on him or something."

"What do you think he'd do if you did?" Angel had that expression that wasn't quite a smile.

"Make that clucking noise and offer me tea and a handkerchief before trying to get Oz or Buffy as soon as possible." Willow didn't even have to think about that one. "Giles seems… well, emotions really don't seem to be his thing."

"Probably part of being a proper Brit," Angel shook his head before leaning closer and whispering, "Try not to spread it around, but neither Spike or Dru were very much on showing their emotions when they were alive. For Dru, it wasn't considered proper for a well-born young lady, and Spike - he went by William back then - but he tried to put it into poetry. It didn't go well for him. Both of them are much more emotional now, and a lot less worried about being proper Brits."

Willow blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of Spike writing poetry. It wasn't working. But she could see Dru as a proper young lady… "I still see some of that in Drusilla. The pretty dresses, and she's got very good posture."

"Much more emotional now though," Angel mused.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Willow admitted. She considered the matter, and made a small confession, "I think I'm starting to like Dru. I know that it's probably not a good idea, and she's all kinds of dangerous, but… it's almost like having an older sister. One that likes spending time with me, and we can talk about silly things. And she said she would help me learn magic."

Angel smiled at that, a decidedly toothy grin, "Dru likes you as well. She's convinced that you'd be a splendid little sister, and keeps asking if she can bring you home and keep you."

Willow blinked, her mind sticking on Dru wanting to keep her. The sour panic and memory of the things written in the Watcher books made perfect sense, but the whole warm fuzzy feeling that accompanied it really didn't. "Ummm… she wants to… keep me?"

"I've been telling her that you're fragile, and that it wouldn't be a good idea," Angel assured her.

"I am fragile. Maybe we can just keep with the visiting for now," Willow murmured. "Spike thinks that it's partly because I play the cemetery game with her."

"I'm sure that helps," Angel admitted.

"What would I do without you?" Willow looked at her friend.

"Don't worry, you'll never need to figure it out," Angel smiled, and took another swallow of his coffee. "There's never been… I've never had a friend like you, Willow. I'm not letting you go."

Something about his words just seemed a bit off to Willow. As she looked across the table at her friend, she decided that it had to be the Hellmouth and the whole thing with her mom. A long-term friend was a good thing… right? Anything else was just Angel having rusty people skills, wasn't it?

"It's nice to have friends." Willow just hoped that things would get better soon.

End Dark Coffee 15: Drinking Delusion.