~*~
Chapter 2
~*~

Joyce Summers and her two assistants, Lance, and Cindy bustled around unpacking the last of the crates for the show. Things were taking shape fairly well. The well thought out plans had made last minute organization a breeze.

"Well, I don't know why Mr. Williams quit helping now when we need him the most." Cindy was talking to Lance as Buffy entered with a tray of Latte's from the Espresso Pump for everyone.

"He's done so much work. It just isn't right for him to miss the end result," Cindy continued with a slight pout and a wistful look.

"Oh, you just miss drooling over him, girlfriend," Lance teased.

Cindy elbowed her co-worker and replied impishly, "Yeah, just like you do!" Lance blushed, but didn’t bother to deny it.

"Oh, hello Buffy, just in time for the great uncrate," Lance said with a bow and a flourish.

"Ooh, one of those yummies for me," he asked? "Give over girl."

"Yup, caffeine goodness all round. Private Buffy Summers reporting for duty as promised." Buffy smiled at her mom's two employees. She didn’t spend much time at her mom’s gallery, but had met the crew a time or two. They were nice college kids from U.C. Sunnydale and Cindy had been in one of Buffy’s freshman Lit. classes.

Buffy was sure these were her mom’s only employees and wondered who they had been talking about. "Who is this Mr. Williams? Mom can't afford another employee and I really don't think she's dated anyone since Ted. Well, that one time with Giles doesn’t really count!" Buffy nearly blushed at that memory. "Mom and I really need to talk more."

Having decided to engage more in her mom's life, Buffy knelt to help unpack the art prints.

"Woa, what the heck is this? It looks like a place I may have seen a time or two," Buffy quipped.

She regarded the rather bizarre picture filled with images that brought the hellmouth to mind. She wasn't sure about the largish fish at the bottom, but the rest looked hellmouthey enough.

"Oh," said Joyce, "Those are the Bosch prints. He did wonderful
allegory paintings. That's one of his many visions of hell. Look, here's one of the Garden of Eden and the Fall of Man," she explained.

"Huh, preoccupied much?" Buffy muttered to herself about artists and their weird ideas of what to paint.

"He was one of the most brilliant of the Flemish painters and his works hang in the best museums all over the world. I think we'll sell lots of these. Bosch is very popular. His work is compelling, isn't it Buffy?" Joyce had always dreamed of Buffy one day sharing her interest in all things artistic.

"Yeah, lots of homesick demons in Sunnydale," Buffy thought. "Just like a Freddy Krueger movie," she said aloud. "What a silly name for an adult …Freddy", she thought to herself.

"I just don't get art," Buffy decided as she glanced at the stack of prints. "Think I'll stick to posters of cute guys and kittens."

"This one's weird too. Why would anyone have surgery in a field? Why would someone have a flower in their brain for that matter?" Buffy continued mumbling to herself. She stared at the picture and wondered why she thought of Spike suddenly.

"Oh, that's 'Extraction of the Stone of Madness', one of his paintings at the Prado in Madrid! Mr. Williams specially chose that one," said Cindy. "I think he even ordered a print for himself."

Buffy was still puzzled. "Ok, extraction I get, and hey, if I had a rock in my brain I'd be mad too, but what's up with the flower?"

Before anyone could answer, the door opened and the florist arrived with the arrangements to be placed throughout the gallery.

Lance headed over to help the deliveryman bring in the floral arrangements and Joyce began to direct them where to place them.
This gala was going to be first class all the way.

The next several hours required far too much work for any more impromptu art appreciation classes. All four worked like slaves to make everything look just right.

When they finished it was nearly 7 P.M. They were too tired for
questions of any kind requiring an intelligent answer.

Buffy turned to her mom as they finally finished the last of the hangings. "Fast food or pizza delivery?"

"Oh honey, and here I just gave you a lecture about good nutrition this morning! I'm sorry. Promise I'll make it up to you and Dawn with pot roast and all the fixins' right after this bloody gala is done," Joyce exclaimed.

"Bloody? Mom, when did you start talkin' with Spikeisms?" Buffy saw her mom raise an eyebrow and start to answer. "No, I sooo don't want to go there! I don't even want to think of that idiot, so forget I asked, okay? I mean, first the weird art that looks like a place where he'd feel right at home, nearly family portraits, I’ll bet! Then you let loose with the bloodies ..... geech! That disinvite should have gotten rid of that stalking loser once and for all. ‘Spik-Be-Gone magic of the good," she huffed.

"Dear, I do understand how unsuitable Spike would be as a slayer's boyfriend, but aren't you being a bit too hard on him otherwise? He did help a lot with this Glory person and he can be very interesting to talk to. He is well traveled, cultured and intelligent. He does love you, even if he has, um, unconventional ways of showing it," Joyce said.

Buffy merely looked at her mother as if she'd grown another head and wondered if those headaches she'd been having were a symptom of something really bad.

~~~
IN THE HALLS OF ASGARD
~~~



"It is not possible for it to have been stolen," roared Thor. "In the hands of a knowing one, Loki will be released back into Midgard and Ragnarok will begin well ahead of schedule. Hear how the Fenris Wolf bays in anticipation?"

"I had though it safe with Skadi. After all, she did sentence that trickster and murderer to be bound and poisoned. She, the guardian of justice, vengeance, and righteous anger would not be careless of such an important item."

"See how, even now, Heimdall touches his horn," Thor exclaimed in nervousness. He began to pace about in great agitation, his mighty hammer swinging.

Modi looked nervously at his father. He ducked from the swinging
powerful hammer, ‘Mjollnir’, in his father's iron gloved hand. "Perhaps my grandfather, the great Odin, might look to the runes. He did suffer upon Yggdrasil to learn their ways, and he is the very font of wisdom," suggested Modi.

Sif, seeking to calm her husband, touched Thor upon his arm
gently. "My husband, we shall send for Hlin. She, as the protectoress, will not wish this evil to be released before the appointed time. She will know who to find to retrieve The Key of Orlog. Do not fret, and … mind the hammer, I'd not lose a son to your misplaced wrath! You've near hit Magni as well as Modi this past hour. The thunders shake the land of giant and man alike. You must calm yourself. All will be well you shall see," she said softly.


~~~

Hlin listened to the problem with growing horror. When Sif had finished the saga she called for her sister goddess, Skadi who had custody of the mighty key. "And where was it hidden," she asked of Skadi.

Skadi was as alarmed as the rest of the old ones of Valhalla. "It rested within the ice-crusted chest forged by Wheiland, himself. 'Twas safe at my home in the snows, though I have been long away. It is not the key alone that has disappeared, ... the whole of the palace, including the mountain it crowns! I know not what magic could have done such a feat, nor where my home has been taken. I am sure we all know the why, however," she trembled as she spoke.

None of the old ones needed a reminder of how important it was to
retrieve that key! A palace or a mountain could be replaced with
little effort. The key binding Loki was irreplaceable.

~~~~

In a sacred grove somewhere in Scandinavia:

The shaman cast the stones as he sought the wisdom of the ages.
Suddenly before him stood Hlin in all glory.

"You have been chosen, mortal, to undertake a great quest of tremendous importance," she spoke.

In all his many years as a follower of Asatru, the Forn Sidr, he had never actually come face to face with any of the old gods that he worshipped. He was struck dumb in wonder.

The old shaman listened as his goddess spoke clearly while issuing her orders. He would need to act quickly, gather his followers. He was determined not to fail his adored one.

By nightfall a handful of valiant, brave and true followers had been pledged to their goddess' will, marked with appropriate runes, and given the magics needed to achieve their goal. They set out on the first leg of the journey to the mouth of hell.

Odin had located what they sought. They merely had to be his hands in the matter. All praise Odin!