Disclaimers, etc, in the first part

In Willow's Defense: Wonted

wonted- attrib. adj. habitual, usual

Willow did an about face from the upturned bowl. "Oz!"

"Yes, Will?"

"I thought . . .I thought . . ." She knew she had released him from the scrying bowl. She had turned it over! The water was seeping into her socks as she stood there, staring at him. Besides, there shouldn't be a full body manifestation of him, just, you know, his head and maybe his shoulders.

Very gently he placed his first two fingers under her chin and lifted, closing her open mouth. "Flies and all."

"Huh?"

Somewhere in the back of Willow's mind she was a little worried when he didn't give her his usual quirky grin but went on talking. "So you called."

"But we talked."

"Hmm, did we? It seemed kind of superficial to me."

Willow raised a brow. "Superficial?"

"It sounded like you wanted me to tell you how wonderful you are for bringing Buffy back."

"Well, maybe not wonderful but I think I did a good job."

Oz sat on the edge of the bed thinking. "I'm not so sure, Will."

Her other eyebrow joined the first. "Not sure? What do you mean not sure? Do you know what I went through to get Buffy back? Do you have any idea?"

"No. So because it was hard you think it was right."

"Not exactly but--"

"Couldn't it be that that's just the way it is. You wanna raise someone from the dead you've gotta go through some stuff. Look at Jesus, he had to die first."

"I'm Jewish."

"Are you sure?"

Willow sat down in frustration. "Of course I'm sure."

"I thought you were a Wicca."

Exasperated she growled. Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow he and Giles die. "Yes, of course I'm Wiccan, Oz. Remember, witch?"

"Then you can't be Jewish."

"Huh?"

" 'There shall not be found among you anyone who practices witchcraft, or a soothsayer, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who conjures spells, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead.'"

Willow sat stock-still, riveted as one of the longest sentences she'd ever heard from Oz poured fluidly from his lips. "What's that from."

"Book of Deuteronomy. Took the Bible as Literature when I was still at Sunnydale U."

Well that answered the other question she was going to ask.

"Of course," he went on, "it's not a direct quote. There's this other stuff about making your kid a human sacrifice to Molech but it didn't apply."

"Of course. So I'm not Jewish?"

"Nope. Although you are up for a good stoning."

Willow looked up at Oz, upset that he would joke about such a thing. He wasn't smiling and no part of his towel-bound self was laughing. "This is serious."

"Yes it is."

"I'm not Jewish."

"I'm thinking you never were."

"What?!" Now she stood, towering over him. This sitting at his feet stuff was crap. You weren't going to hear any 'Teach me, Rabbi's' from her.

"I've been thinking about it for a long time. A lot of people treat Judaism as a race or something. There are lots of different kinds of Jews held together by religion but you've never been particularly religious." Willow mumbled something about her parents. "I mean, a lot of people who consider themselves Christians aren't. I suppose it's true for every major religion."

Willow sputtered. "I don't care about everyone else's major religion, this is my major religion we're talking about here. I'm stoneable."

"Only in Biblical times. And the restored Israel of the not-too-near-or-far future."

"But I want to be Jewish."

"Why. It never mattered to you before."

Eyes wide she shot back, "Of course it did! How could you--"

"No it didn't Will. It's okay. I just meant to point out you're not who you think you are."

"Are you saying I don't know myself?"

Oz shrugged.

"Of course I know myself. How could I not know myself?"

"You really should check your hats more often, Will."

His words struck a deep chord within her. You should check your hats more often. Spike had said that to her, before . . .before . . .before . . .

With a cry of frustration she futily stamped her foot. Oz looked on calmly. "How can you just sit there?!"

"Oh Willow," he said on a sigh, cocking his head to one side, "what are they going to do with you?"

"Wha--" before she noticed that, once again the scrying bowl was full and this time it was Oz turning over on it's side with his foot.

ยงยงยง

It was still dark when Willow opened her eyes. You should check your hats more often, ran over and over in her head. Staring at the ceiling was making her thirsty. As she propped herself up on her elbows something wet and familiar slapped her face. Her hair. It was wet.

Fin