This is unbetaed, but it is also the conclusion to yet another story, that spiraled WAAAY out of control. For those of you that have not noticed, you'll see a direct reflection of what Spock did for them, they did for Spock. Not sure if any of you got that, you probably did, but I thought it was clever...(it's also why it took so bloody long, bad idea, brain, bad.) That said, enjoy!
...

Spock watched through eyes that were forcibly kept blank, in a face that was beginning to hurt he kept it so still. His fingers were balled into trembling fists, and his eyes were unblinking. The Klingon in front of him smiled, baring his teeth, holding the one he had grabbed tightly, a knife held in front of his neck. Spock stared at the Klingon who had a hold of his father and found himself unable and unwilling to move.

They had been boarded. Jim and the crew had done everything they could to hold it off, but it was inevitable. The only good thing about it was they were well on their way to taking it back in hand and destroying the ones still outside. But the fact that the Klingon had the ambassador ruined any good that may have come from it.

Sarek was bleeding, from his lip and his nose, his robes were ripped, and he was bruised heavily, but he was unmoving. Spock's eyes were locked onto his, unwavering. The Klingon didn't seem to mind that the young Vulcan's attention was not focused on him. In fact, he almost seemed amused. He wrapped his hand around Sarek's throat, tightening his fingers gradually, watching as the tiny Vulcan twitched, his expression slowly beginning to shift.

Loud guttural laughter filled the air, the knife held near Sarek's throat, only to plunge into his shoulder. Sarek did not react, even as Spock took an involuntary step forward. There were few moments when Spock could remember being as terrified or angry as this. The Klingon was toying with him, with them, and his father was being killed in front of him. Spock finally closed his eyes against it, desperately attempting to keep control.

Phaser fire split the laughter, and a loud thump followed, but Spock never opened his eyes. They were closed when voices came, a further thump happening shortly after, the voices getting louder, more distraught. Then another voice came, a quiet voice, feminine, soft, and unfamiliar. He felt himself being slowly carefully lifted into two arms, human arms, the softness to her figure reminding him of his mother, her scent was even similar. He burrowed his head into her shoulder and simply held her equally close.

When she began speaking in quiet Vulcan, using the words in a way he knew that no true Vulcan would use, the image was set, and he was back with his mother. His mother who was gone, who was dead. He didn't realize he was crying until the woman began attempting to shush him.

He was only vaguely aware of being taken somewhere, of the sudden presence of another human, familiar. A hand began rubbing his back gently, and he felt something wet plop onto his hair. It was then that he realized that the female was crying as well, and he looked up, eyes blurry. Two brown eyes in a brown skinned face stared at him, damp, but focused. Neither thing reminded him of his mother, but at the moment he could only reach out carefully, brushing the tear away.

The woman looked surprised, blinking, only for him to hold it out, examining it quietly.

"Crying is not logical. It helps nothing, and causes a person to feel... Yet I have had trouble with this reaction. I'm told I have 'human eyes', I suppose this is what they mean. Is it wrong to cry for my planet, my people…my mother and my father?" He watched as the African woman he did not know turned her head to look at Jim with wide eyes.

"Never. It's never wrong. When you get older you'll lose the urge, you'll be more in control, but you're young. Heck, you've only just turned nine; no one's going to hold it against you. Absolutely no one." Jim spoke then, the woman nodding.

"Exactly, I know it hurts, but it's fine, crying is…release in humans. Your mother cried, I'm sure," she said, her free hand wiping her eyes.

"I have seen this reaction twice. Once when I was almost killed, and the other when I returned home from school and informed her that the other students would not accept me."

"What?" The woman's question was like a whisper, her eyes widening, while Jim seemed to puff himself up, unable to contain his anger.

"I am half-human. I was not an equal; I still am not an equal. I shall always be a half-breed and therefore less than others of pure status."

Jim reacted then, punching the bulkhead next to him. His eyes were slits and he practically spat, "Bullshit!"

"Very eloquent, Captain, but I concur. That's wrong, Spock. You're not less than anyone."

"The very term disproves you. 'Half'-breed."

"You are not a half-breed. You're…you're you, you're Spock! You don't have to be more than that, and let me tell you, that's more than enough."

"…If this is true, then why do…did my peers not accept me?"

"Because they were a bunch of bigoted idiots." Jim answered automatically, the woman nodding in agreement.

Spock was silent, seeming to digest the information he was given, his head bowed slightly. "Will my father be alright?"

"McCoy's been working on him, but he told me that Sarek will be fine. He's in a healing trance, he'll come out of it soon, and all will be well, I promise."

Spock inclined his head slightly, then focused his attention on the woman as she put him down on his own two feet. "Thank you, but I do not believe we are acquainted…yet at least."

She lowered herself down with a slight smile, "My name is Nyota. I'm sorry I didn't try and meet you earlier, but…it was difficult. I'm so used to seeing you full-grown that I wasn't all that certain how I would react when I saw you. Now I know."

"You reacted adequately."

Nyota blinked, and then laughed. "Thank you."

"I believe the proper response is, 'you are welcome'."

She smiled at him, and he inclined his head to her.

Jim rubbed at his hair for a moment, glaring. "This wouldn't have happened if I had just returned you both to the Vulcans the moment Sarek got here. Hell, I should have just dropped you off there and let them handle it. It's obvious that we can't provide the proper protection, or the resources to get you to grow up quicker."

"Don't be like that, Jim, it wasn't your fault. You had no idea this would happen."

"Still, if I had just…listened. I don't know. I'm just…shit… I just." He sighed, running his hands through this hair and slumping on the wall. "I care about you, you know that, right?"

Spock blinked, looking up at him, his head tilting to the side slightly as he regarded him. "Yes, I understand this fact. You are my friend as well as my captain, when I am older."

"That's right, best friends. We got each other's back, and totally ready to jump into danger for the other. Every single one of these crewmembers would do the same. For you, or for me. I'm used to being able to fix everything, or having someone else who can do the same. But this is…" He sighed. "Look, the point is, I might need help to fix you this time. Maybe the best place for you is New Vulcan…"

Spock was silent for a moment, looking at the ground. "I do not wish to go to New Vulcan."

Jim closed his eyes, sighing. "Alright. Maybe I'm overreacting a little…"

"'A little'? Captain, Sarek is going to be fine."

"He was stabbed, Lieutenant, stabbed. Sure he's going to be fine, but…he might not have been."

"But he is."

"Alright, I get the point. I get the point. But I don't like it."

"Jim, you care, we get that. We like that about you. It'll be fine. Spock needs to stay here."

Jim sighed and nodded his head weakly. "So he does. You want to see your dad now? McCoy will probably have managed to get him mostly patched up now."

"Very well."

"Okay then, Nyota, can you take him? I have to make reports and check on the damage to my ship."

"Okay, Kirk, go on. Thank you."

"Thank you."

With that he walked off, leaving the two alone. Nyota turned to regard Spock for a moment, and then smiled at him. "Captain cares about you."

"Indeed."

"The entire crew cares for you."

"So I have been told."

"You aren't worthless."

"…"

She sighed, but she looked more sad than anything else. "You'll see. In time you'll see."

"…I hope so."

"Come on; let's go see your dad."

It was only when Spock sat in front of his father on the biobed that what had happened truly began to effect him. He was silent, his mouth turned down into a frown as he watched his father lie prone on the biobed. Nyota had squeezed his shoulder once and then left to see to her own department.

Spock was alone in front of an unmoving and unwell father.

He was silent, his head bowed, the private ward mainly undisturbed, due to the fact that McCoy was off dealing with the other injured. His head lowered slightly, his eyes closing, and then he heard the door open. Spock turned to watch as the Engineer he had met before stuck his head in. Scotty slowly entered, his eyes locking on Sarek for a moment, before trailing over to look at Spock.

"Hey…"

"Greetings."

"You're way too formal sometimes, ye know that?" Scotty asked, smiling weakly and sitting down next to him.

Spock allowed a corner of his mouth to twitch in what he had learned would be seen as a smile, but showed no other sign of anything.

"I'm sorry about yer father."

"He is alive, he shall be well."

"Aye, that is true, but it still doesn't change the fact that it's downright dreadful."

"…Indeed."

"I'm sorry, lad. I really am."

"It is not your fault."

Scotty nodded easily. "So…you feelin' alrigh'?"

"I am…fine."

"I thought fine was unacceptable."

"There is no other word I may use that is proper."

"Ah, so ye're feelin' downright awful, then."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, lad. Is there anythin' I can do?"

"You were taught the Vulcan style of fighting."

"Yes, actually…"

"Teach me."

Scotty blinked, looking into two brown eyes, and a slow smile spread along his face. "Ye sure ye can take it, lad?"

"While you may be older than me and taller, I am well on my way to being just as strong. I have been growing, and will continue to do so."

"That ye will, ye'll get to be taller than most of us on this ship."

"I need to learn, please. That Klingon…he went for me first. My father offered himself in my place." His shoulders were square, but he did not meet the Scot's eyes, missing the way they widened in shock, and his mouth pulled into a frown.

"Aye…that's…that's a hard thing to have happen."

"So you will teach me?"

"Ye bet yer boots, lad."

"…But I am not wearing any boots."

Scotty laughed, and patted him on the shoulder, flinching back once he realized what he had done. "Sorry about that, forgot about the not likin' to be touched thing."

Spock was silent for a moment. "There is…there is one thing…"

"Yeah?"

Spock hesitated, and then reached out, and calmly and carefully hooked his little finger to Scotty's. Scotty blinked; looking down at the tiny finger wrapped around his grease stained one, and looked up at him in surprise. "What's that then?"

"It…it is basically the equivalent of one of your hugs."

Scotty started, looking down at it, and then back at him with a wide smile. "Well, thank you!"

This was why they were found by Sulu the next day crouched in a sparring position, the young Vulcan looking a little more out of place and scruffy than his adult self would be in, were he in the same position. Sulu grinned, sitting on the ground and watching, his sword laid out to the side. It wasn't long before Spock was pinned to the ground and reinstructed. But what Jim had told him was never far away from his memory.

Eventually the two of them parted ways, Scotty to his Engines, and Spock to grab his water bottle and begin stretching to cool off. Sulu stood back up and began his own series of stretches. The small Vulcan nodded to him and sat down cross legged off to the side.

"So…you were picked on at school."

Spock blinked, looking up at him, finally giving a quiet, "That is true…"

"You know they're a bunch of idiots?"

"Most of them are highly intelligent."

"Not really. If they can't see the value in a person because of their looks or because of what they are, then that's ignorant, and stupid."

Spock did not reply.

"It is."

"Why?"

"Do your parents love you?"

"Yes…"

"Does the people in this ship care for you?"

"Yes…"

"Do you believe that every one of us is wrong in that belief?"

"…"

Sulu dropped all pretense of stretching and crouched in front of him. "Spock, we're not wrong. We're right. Your father's right, your mother…was right. She still is, too. We care about you Spock. You belong on this ship, and anywhere else you set your mind to belong, whether they like it or not. You get me?"

"But what if they do not like it and attempt to kill me for it?"

"Then you don't want to be down there anyway, do you?"

"Negative."

"Exactly. Spock, you're…special, you're unique. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that." The tiny smile and the offered hand was enough to make Sulu beam.

Over the next few days something happened that made the ship breathe a collective sigh of relief. They had found what triggered Spock's growth. It was not long before he was entering puberty, and with it, McCoy's increased usage of pain killers during the night to let him sleep as he grew, and basically locking him up in the sickbay. Spock was not all that happy with the arrangement, but the crew did their best to keep him company.

Sarek was never far from his side, and there were no more incidents like the one with the Klingons, thankfully. All in all, it was a time that most of the crew treasured. The look on Spock's face when the bridge crew grinned at him, when he finally reached his proper age, and called him by his Vulcan name was more than enough for them (especially as it had taken several weeks of training and near tears on Chekov's part). It was over, and they were closer than they had ever been before.

Happiness born from misery, they wouldn't have had it any other way.