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Buffy meets Sarek (sort of)

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This story is No. 15 in the series "August 2013 Fic-A-Thon". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Buffy meets seven year old Spock’s dad by proxy

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Star Trek > Other/GeneraljakedamanFR1817680111,37620 Aug 1320 Aug 13Yes
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Star Trek, wish I did. Be doin', like, all kindsa crossovers!



It had been a fortnight and Sarek of Vulcan was as near out of his mind with worry as a Vulcan could get. Why, he was so distracted he could only hold a conversation while working warp theory calculations in his head. He was so used to doing more.

He practically, for a Vulcan, glared at the man on his communications monitor. To humans it would look like mild reproof, but other Vulcans would be embarrassed and give Sarek a wide berth so as not to become contaminated with his loss of control. He repeated several calming mantra’s silently while dealing with this infuriating human who claimed to have news of his lost son.

“My son is where? With whom?”

Sarek of Vulcan could not believe his pointy ears. The human on his view screen was more Vulcan-like than Sarek at this moment in time. Leaning slightly forward in his office chair Spock’s Father, the Vulcan Ambassador to earth demanded, “Who are you to think you can tell me what can or cannot be done about my only child!”

“Ambassador, do calm yourself please.” The gentleman urged softly.

He allowed Sarek a few seconds to reacquire his wits then he continued, “As I was saying sir, “ Sareks eyes narrowed, catching the mild reproof, “your son Spokh is alive and well as is his pet sehlat I Chaya. My ‘daughter’ rescued the young scamp from a wild le-matya beast at the edge of the Forge.”

Sarek’s green blood ran cold at the news. Stuttering, he felt as though he had to defend himself, “I know I’ve been hard on the boy…”

“Tut-tut Sarek. None of that!” the other man admonished, explaining, “Boys will be boys after all.”

Taking a steadying breath Sarek agreed, “Of course Mr. Giles. You are quite correct,” relaxing into the situation he requested, “Please, tell me what has happened and what your daughter is planning.”

Smiling companionably, Mr. Giles took a sip of his tea and explained, “Right. My adoptive daughter had been working herself quite hard for the past century.”

Sarek’s eyebrow twitched, but he repressed it and filed that information away for now.

Hands disappearing out of view Sarek watched his screen expand as a data file was downloaded. Mr. Giles then smiled a proud paternal grin introducing, “Sarek, meet my Daughter in all but blood, Buffy Anne Summers.”

Sarek eyes flicked over the information absorbing it like any Vulcan trained in logic. He then glanced up at Mr. Giles in awed wonder asking, “She is over two hundred years old? And she is a Slayer?” A pico-second’s thought followed by realization and he suspiciously inquired, “And just how old are you Mr. Giles?”

“Just a few decades older dear fellow.” Came the smug reply.

“She is The Vashaur of Legend…” he realized. Sarek returned his attention to the man on the monitor. He requested, “Mr. Giles. I would greatly appreciate it if your daughter were to spend the next two or three weeks training my son.”
“It will be our Honor to train your son Sarek of Vulcan.” Mr. Giles responded.

“I humbly thank you sir.”

“Think nothing of it. As Buffy has most probably said ‘this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship’.” Mr. Giles responded with a bit of a fatherly grin.

“Casablanca, circa 1942.” Sarek immediately recited. A ghost of a smile on his lips he said, “A personal favorite. Live Long and Prosper, Mr. Giles.”

“And to you Sarek.”

The connection closed allowing Sarek to uncharacteristically slump in his office chair steepling his fingers before him. He remained there calculating the permutations of recent events. He was interrupted as his wife Amanda arrived home calling out for him.

“Husband, have you heard of our son?” she asked, seemingly calm.

“Why yes, wife. He is well.” He answered slowly somewhat distracted.

“Husband?” she asked arching her right eyebrow. He knew that look, it meant ‘answer me or else mister’.

Hiding a pleased smile he rose striding to his wife and held out the first two fingers of his right hand. She gasped copying his movement. She felt waves of calm and love and … pride?

“You are proud of our son almost getting himself killed?” she asked incredulous.

“No dear wife,” he answered an almost unheard growl in his voice, “I am proud of our son as he was rescued and is to be trained by the Vashaur Buffy Summers of Earth.”

Amanda did not react as he expected. She snatched her hand away and actually growled as rage suffused her normally placid face.

“That Bitch!”

The End

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