Because we all know he's got some serious issues. Major, major, major AU. Just a little crack!fic because… hey, who doesn't go through the Monday Blues? Round Three of my SWB Initiative.

He stalks in, all five feet eleven inches of pure evil.

The pretty blonde who sits outside all day long and counsels hysterical strangers stills, the crying woman on the line forgotten as the newcomer heads in her direction. One step, then another, and another – now he's right in front of her.

"I'm here to see Dr. Reinhart." The man states, plain and simple and straight to the point. Her heart skips a beat – in terror – because now she's going to have to question him.

"I…umm," She stammers. "Ah – do… do you have an appointment, sir?"

An easy smirk which doubles as a sinister yet charming smile graces his face as he catches her gaze. He has really nice eyes, she notes, but the people who come here always have something to hide behind those eyes.

"I do." He says simply, looking deep into her eyes.

Her mind feels foggy, and the receptionist realizes she's been staring at the man for way too long. She shakes her head in an attempt to clear it, when suddenly something clicks in her mind: an appointment. Oh. Of course he has one.

"Dr. Reinhart will be with you shortly." She smiles, an automated response. Her eyes are suspiciously blank, but there's no one else around to notice.


"So, Mr. Smith-"

"Please, call me Klaus." He hates interrupting – it's just plain rude – but figures they're basically friends by now, since she's about to hear all of his deepest, darkest secrets.

"Ah," The doctor hesitates. "Okay, Klaus. So, it seems you decided to seek help on your own, today. That's a really big step, so I'd like to congratulate you."

"Thank you." Klaus says quickly, basking in her praise. He doesn't get a lot of praise, sadly. His daddy made sure of that.

"You're welcome," She eyes him warily, words slow and dripping with unvoiced questions. "Seeking help is always good, and prevention is better than cure, so it's good to make sure that you're on the right track and all. We'll be spending today's session finding out what – if anything – is the matter, and we'll proceed from there."

"I have trust issues." He blurts, and her eyes grow wide. "And abandonment issues. I can't control my anger sometimes. And other times I don't believe in myself."


"Sometimes I just see blue crayons and they set me off, and the next thing I know I've got a dozen young woman drained."

She doesn't quite know what to make of the blue crayon remark so she shuffles through his file – the one he had his brother send her – and goes through it. "Umm, yes, your brother Elijah wrote about that. You've left quite the trail of destruction behind you, I must say. How do you feel about this, Klaus?"

"I… I feel bad about this, Doctor." Finally, his smile drops and his eyes stop twinkling. This is why he's here: to stop pretending, even if it's just for an hour. "But Elijah's one to talk! He's almost worse than me. And if it wasn't for him, then blue crayons wouldn't even set me off in the first place!"

It's inevitable now. "Okay, Klaus. Can we talk about these blue crayons?"

"I… I guess."

"Okay," The doctor nods, ready to scribble down some random thought. Because really – do you think she cares? She's just gonna listen and act sorry and get paid.

"My mommy used to buy all of us crayons when we were kids. But crayons were new back then and so we could only get one pack for all of us kids. Mommy said we could each get one crayon and I always took the blue ones. Elijah took the red ones and my sister Rebekah took the pink ones."

She nods quietly; nothing sounds wrong yet.

"Elijah never really liked me because we're only half-brothers. No one liked me, especially not Daddy, because I'm not his. Everyone picked on me. So Elijah always took my crayons. I know he was being mean because he hates blue. HE HATES BLUE!"

"Okay," She's startled by this sudden outburst, and lunges to grab the notepad she's dropped before he can see that she's written the words nutcase and cuckoo in bold, sprawling cursive that takes up the entire page. "And what did you do about that?"

"I went to Mommy, but Elijah pretended to be nice so she just told me to be a good brother and humor him."

"So then I went to Daddy and I told him about the crayon thing and how Elijah was always being mean and calling me a mongrel and stealing my cookies."

"And what did your father say?"

"He called me a pussy."

And then he starts crying.

Big, baby sobs.

She begins to wonder if this is even worth the money.

It's been fifteen minutes of non-stop wailing, and she fears she might actually have to use some of that stuff she learned in school.

"You-" Doctor Reinhart struggles to be heard above the awful din of a sobbing man. "You keep talking about your sister, Rebekah. Can you tell me more about her?"

"Bekah's nice." Klaus hiccups, and hallelujah, it worked! He's stopped crying! Maybe she's not that bad at this, after all.

"After Daddy hit me, he'd send me to my room and everyone else would laugh and go play. Rebekah wouldn't, though. Rebekah would sneak in and bring me baggies of O positive. They're my favorite." He tells her.

She doesn't really know what to make of this anymore, so she's just going to go along with it.

"But then Elijah would sneak in and switch it with AB and that sucks, THAT SUCKS BECAUSE AB IS FOR LOSERS LIKE ELIJAH! ELIJAH IS A LOSER! A BLUE-CRAYON HATING LOSER!"

"Klaus, we've established that most of your siblings treated you unfairly. Do you think this is why you ended up killing most of them?" She mentally pats herself on her back for sounding so understanding.

"I didn't kill them, Doc. I just stuck daggers in their mean, cold, MEAN and NASTY hearts. They'll come back to life, someday."

"Mmm-hmm," She nods with a hum, adding an old-fashioned grandfather clock next to the word cuckoo. Maybe she could try to draw a bird...

"But do you think that's why you… stuck daggers in their hearts? Because they turned you into an outsider?"

"Definitely," Klaus answers without hesitation. "I know it, Doctor. I just do. I can feel it here," He places a hand over his heart. "Deep inside. They killed so many…" He blubbers, tearing up. "They killed so many of my crayons!" He sobs pitifully and she reaches for more candy.

"Thanks." He sniffles.

"And, uh, what about your father, Mikael?"


"I think we know that, but do you know why, Klaus?"

"Because he called me a pussy and I AM NOT A PUSSY!" He rises and she fears he might try to prove this to her, so she hastily stands up and convinces him to take a seat.

"Alright, Klaus. We know you're not, a, uh, pussy. You can sit down now."

"Thank you, Doctor." He says earnestly. "No one's ever believed in me."

She doesn't quite know how to respond to that and so she sits down, smoothing out her skirt to buy her some time.

"Except for that one hippie in the 70s'. Oh, she was delicious."

"Daddy hated me – HE HATED ME, AND MOMMY KNEW THAT, SHE KNEW! – because I'm part werewolf and also because Mommy didn't like him that much after all. HE WAS HER SECOND BEST! HA! SUCK ON THAT, DADDY! Oh, wait, you can't. Because I killed you!"

He's talking to thin air and so she tries to redirect the conversation. "How did your father express his displeasure?" Oh, that sets him off.

"He told everyone else not to talk to me, because I was a freak. And he always gave me peanut-butter sandwiches when everyone else got peanut-butter-AND-JELLY! And he never let me play on the swings even though he would help push everyone else." This sounds almost comical and she is thisclose to giving up. But the money – the money keeps her going. She is going to bill him a fortune.

"I… see."

"Daddy didn't like me," He pouts and she fears another crying fit is imminent.

"And how did you deal with that, Klaus?" She asks softly, just to keep the crying at bay, because this grown man crying just scares the living shit out of her.

"I slapped him."

"You mean you punched him." Slapped him? Laughable.

"No, I slapped him."

He's joking. He must be joking. A clueless look leads him to elaborate.

"I didn't want to break a nail. Do you know what a pain it is to file vampire nails?"

And he's angry because his father called him a pussy?

"One day when Mommy and Rebekah went out, Daddy and Elijah and the others dragged me outside. They said they had a surprise for me." And he trusted them? She almost feels sorry for this kid. But then she remembers that he's not a kid and he's a murderer and he cries really, really loudly.

"And what happened next?" She prods.

"They stripped me and tied me up to a tree and said they would take pictures if they could, only cameras didn't exist yet."

"You mean your family didn't have a camera." Cameras didn't exist yet? She doesn't know what to make of that; she really, really doesn't.

"Of course, silly. No Viking family had cameras!"

Thinks of self as a Viking, she notes, and she thinks she might get enough material with just one session to write a seriously messed-up book. This is good practice for her poker face, really.

"And then what happened?" She asks gently; this is starting to sound a whole lot like high school and she doesn't have the fondest memories.

"Daddy and Elijah picked up knives."

She's almost scared to ask what happens next. Thankfully, he chooses to go on without prodding. "Mommy and Rebekah got home then. We moved out that night and they got divorced. We got Rebekah but they got Poppy."

"Is Poppy one of your sisters?" He's got quite a few siblings, but she's positive she hasn't heard of any Poppy.

"Nope. She was our puppy."

"Eventually, you killed your father."

"I had to, Doctor." Sure, he had to. Because his father didn't play with him and gave him lame sandwiches and took his puppy. Okay, so the guy was kind of a dick.

"Because he was always bullying you?"

"No. Well, yes. But he wanted to take Rebekah from me. HE WANTED REBEKAH!" He wanted to take the sister? Definitely a dick.

"So you had to kill him?"

"DON'T JUDGE ME!" He roars, and she flinches. She really, really isn't, actually. She would have loved to beat up her own useless dad, actually. Good for Klaus.

"I… I'm not, Klaus. Remember, I'm here to help you. Now, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"It… it was dark. My brothers were all gone – Elijah took them camping, but Daddy stayed home because HE WAS A LAZY ASS."

"I see."

"So I snuck in and I laughed evilly and then I hit him on his head. And when he woke up HE was naked and tied up to a tree and it was burning."

"O… kay." Now she's judging.

"And while he was burning, I danced around the tree and laughed. And then I took off my clothes to show him I'm not a pussy. And then I danced and laughed some more."

Move over, judging. It's time for incredulous disbelief and a smidgen of fear because he might be crazy, after all. Dangerously so.

"And then Daddy died."

Time to end this and run. Get a new life. Maybe she can dye her hair and wear contacts. She's always wanted to have red hair and blue eyes and a French name. Hmm. Marceline sounds classy.

"Okay. I… umm… maybe we should end the session here. You can settle your fee outside."

He jumps to his feet, a new, unburdened man. "Of course. Thank you, Doctor. Same time next week?"

She faints.

Klaus shrugs.

"Lunch is served, I suppose."

Jessica Reinhart is rudely awakened when she falls out of bed at 6.27 in the morning. Unable to fall back asleep, she decides to take advantage of her early start and hops on the treadmill, scrolling through her schedule for the day.

When she sees a Klaus Smith scheduled for eleven this morning, she promptly rings up the practice, quits her job and starts packing up her things. Mystic Falls isn't that great a place to live in anyway.

Don't say I didn't warn you guys.

E Salvatore,

December 2011.

The Screw Writer's Block Initiative (SWB Initiative) is open to everyone – and I mean everyone – who's ever won against writer's block. And if you're battling it right now…well, you've got perfect timing! Focus on a small plot bunny that just won't leave you alone and write a one-shot of your choice. Be sure to mention the Initiative or SWB Initiative. Come on, let's kick writer's block's a$$!