A/N – Thought this might be an interesting story, basically Psychopaths versus Werewolves. Not sure if it is worth pursuing (i.e. if it is something people will want to actually read.) Please let me know in reviews if it sounds interesting and would like me to continue. If it sucks, I'll take it down, no hard feelings.

Malcolm (or Mal, as he preferred to be called) got off the school bus for his first day at Beacon Hills High. He wondered how long it would be before he was forced to take it apart. Three schools so far had regretted the day they ever let him in their doors. Three obnoxious bullies regretted the day they went out of their way…expended energy…to try to make him feel miserable. They eventually found out with whom they were fucking. Even the teachers learned, eventually.

He started towards the class, his expression neutral, his eyes blank. It was no fun if he actually gave them something to start with, the effort to antagonize had to come completely from them.

A silver Porsche pulled up into a spot that Mal had been standing in a mere second before. Mal ignored the beeping of the driver, not caring if the guy actually knocked him over with the car. That would unchain the beast completely. Anything that happened would be the drivers own fault.

Some kid with ridiculous good looks hopped out of the car, red faced and furious. He stalked up to Mal and "got in his face".

"Watch where I'm driving, douche." He snapped.

Mal assessed him in a way that would have made a psychoanalyst proud.

Porsche, hair, clothes, attitude.

Meaning-

Wealth, narcissism, vanity, insecurity.

Almost too easy a target, how boring. This guy could self-destruct if left on his own. "Pedestrians have the right of way. Hit one…and pay the consequences." He said evenly.

Jackson was caught unawares by the dead look on this new kid's face. He was thin, twerpy looking, but that face held zero fear, only contempt for everything it saw around him. The 'predator' sense that most bullies have that lets you know when someone is a viable victim in fact warned Jackson that he might be out of his league. The steady, expectant gaze was creepy.

Jackson's fist came up, trembling to knock some teeth in. Don't do it. said his inner advisor. The fist went back down. Jackson settled for a scowl and walked away.

Mal shook his head. It had almost been an interesting morning.

Sitting in his first class between two nerdy types, one seeming to be more athletic than the other, Mal opened his notebook and prepared to hear a lecture that meant absolutely nothing to him. His gaze wandered off while his pencil absently took the notes, a technique he had taught himself years before. He was assessing the classroom. Typical assortment of girls from the unattainable to the desperate. He spotted the teen queens almost instantly. A red-haired girl named Lydia, and some brunette named Allison. Hmm, Allison had an air of uncertainty about her. That meant she was new too.

The nerdy types were a kind of spastic kid named Stiles that Mal took an immediate and extremely unusual liking to, as if he had found a kindred spirit. Rare, that was. The more athletic type was Scott. Intriguing, as he seemed not to know himself where he fit. Also, a glimmer of 'like', the closest he came to having feelings. Well, the good ones. What a day this was turning out to be. The creep's name was of course "Jackson Whitmore". Straight out of a tv show.

Stiles kept coughing in his throat, and Mal recognized it as a warning. He looked up in time to see Mr. Franklin, the mathematics teacher standing by his desk glaring at him.

"This is your first day, Mr. Drake, and yet you are paying attention to absolutely nothing I am saying, I assume that you already know more than we, and can demonstrate this. Please solve the equation on the board."

On the board :

(-8m2-3m+3) - (-2m2-5)

Simplify

Jackson laughed under his breath, and there were some giggles throughout the class as well. Mal detected that he was being evaluated…new kid…possibly stupid or weak. Victim?

Not bloody likely.

Mal got up and went slowly to the board, taking a piece of chalk. Five seconds later he finished.

On the board under 'Simplify', Mal had written: -6m2-3m+8

The class quieted down. Even Jackson was impressed. Mal turned and gave his flat stare at the teacher, wanting him to look into Mal's eyes and see the empty spot where his soul used to be.

Mr. Franklin stuttered when he responded, his face going red. "Y-you didn't show your work."

Putting all the contempt he could into his voice, Mal said "Why should I show you how I did it?" The class gave a collective gasp.

Then he sat down at his desk. Stiles said in a low whisper "That was so righteous my man!" Scott gave him a look of envy. The teen queens were now re-assessing him. 'Get used to doing that, ladies. By the time you REALLY figure me out…it will be way too late.' Mal thought.

Allison, who had been looking at Scott with interest ever since he gave her the pen she didn't ask for, suddenly shifted her attention to Mal. There was definitely something about him. Scott's noticed the shift, and his eyes turned yellow as he turned to regard the new kid with the first hint of jealousy. Mal looked up, as if sensing another predator, and turned to give Scott another glance. Scott looked down and pretended to be intensely interested in his math book.

Mal did not have any more run ins with teachers or students for the rest of the day, but did take the time to thank Stiles for his warning.

"No problem, bro. You handled it just fine. Wish I had those smarts."

"You do. You just don't know it. Most people have no idea what abilities they have."

Stiles gave a look over at Scott who was busy at his locker. "Yeah, I get what you mean."

"One day, Stiles, you will realize that all the walls people put up around themselves that define what they can or cannot do…are just simply not there."

Mal walked away, leaving Stiles to contemplate this unexpected pearl of wisdom.

The next morning in Franklin's math class, the children arrived to find Franklin in an agitated state. He kept pulling at a padlock someone had attached to his teacher closet.

"Lose your combo, Mr. Franklin?" asked Lydia.

"This IS NOT my padlock! It has a built in lock, no one uses the hasp for padlocks anymore. Someone is playing a practical joke!"

The kids finished taking their seats. Mal was the only one who looked just mildly interested in the teacher's dilemma. At length, the janitor walked in with a large pair of clippers, and removed the offending lock.

"Finally!" shouted Mr. Franklin. He turned his key viciously in the closet's internal lock and yanked on the heavy closet door…which promptly fell on him, knocking him to the ground. The hinges had been removed.

Class was cancelled, and the students were given a free period while Mr. Franklin saw the nurse and filled out workman's compensation forms.

Stiles and Scott were sitting together, and as Mal walked by he gave them a questioning look. Stiles gestured to come over, while Scott gave him a not-so-subtle jab in the ribs for doing so. It took Mal all of a second to figure out where the hostility was coming from. He had earned the interest of a girl that Scott liked. Easily solved. Mal wondered exactly which one it was so he could relieve the young man's anxieties. He had no wish for unearned dislike. He always liked to earn it completely.

"I have no interest in dating any of the girls in our class." he said.

Stiles looked at him, openmouthed. Scott looked guilty.

"Uh, okay. Thanks for the intel. There's this guy Danny that…"

Mal laughed, surprising himself. "Let me rephrase that. No interest in dating."

Scott's expression did not change, but Mal detected a slight relaxation in his posture. Good.

"How about you two? Got your eyes on anyone?"

"I like Lydia, Scott likes Allison." Blurted Stiles. Another elbow jab from Scott. "She left her notepad in class. Maybe if I give it back to her, she'll notice me." Stiles held the pink notepad as if it were the Holy Grail.

"I am something of a relationship expert. If either of you ever need some friendly advice, let me know." Stiles looked thrilled at this, while Scott rolled his eyes. Mal sighed. He was losing Scott, and that was too bad. Oh, well.

"What you said about the 'walls not being there'. What did that mean?" asked Stiles. No doubt he was thinking about the impossibility of getting Lydia Martin to go on a date with him.

"Well, what is preventing you from…getting what you want? List the obstacles, and lets see if we can remove them." Mal asked.

"Um, Lydia doesn't know I'm alive. She's with Jackson. He's rich and talented at Lacrosse. She goes for that stuff."

"Lydia seems to think very highly of herself, but her relationship with Jackson is calculated for appearance's sake. No emotional attachment. He fails because he puts up with her. You can succeed where he failed by seeing more clearly into her than anyone else. Her secret self. Deep down where she thinks she is undeserving of real love, and needs someone to call her on it. Captivated by anyone who is immune to her charms, she will be drawn to you."

Scott had enough.

"Okay, first of all, how do we know any of this is true, and if it is, then how do you know it? This is your first freaking day here!"

"I know it because Lydia is not exactly…unique in her perspective. Again, I have experience in this. Try it out. If it works, then you know I'm telling the truth. In fact, if either of you were girls, it would work equally well on Jackson. They are kind of like twins, deep down."

Now both boys were open-mouthed.

"I'm gonna try it." said Stiles.

"Fight your instincts to please her. You almost have to kill your own feelings to awaken hers. But don't kill them so completely that she bores you once you get her. A neat trick, that."

Stiles went over to talk to Lydia.

"You really think this will work?" said Scott to Mal, looking at Stiles sadly.

"What concerns me more is that Stiles figure out why he is attracted to such a trainwreck. He wants validation from a person who doesn't want to give it to him. What does that say?"

Scott had no answer.

Stiles walked by Lydia, and said "Here's your notepad."

She took it before giving him a condescending smile.

"How sweet." Then she turned back to Allison.

Stiles snapped his fingers in her face. She looked up, startled and…unsure? Lydia?

"Hey. The human response is 'Thank you.' Next time, put a tracking device on it. I'm done playing fetch." Then he returned and walked back to the boys.

"Mal, what the hell did you make me do? She hates me, I can tell?" moaned Stiles. He had managed to keep his composure until he was out of her earshot.

"10, 11, 12…Twelve seconds. When was the last time she looked at you for twelve seconds straight, Stiles?"

"If you put all of the time she has ever looked at me together, it wouldn't make 12 seconds." Stiles mumbled.

"Until now. Watch for the over the shoulder look."

The three watched Lydia walk back into the building. At the last second, she gave one quick backward glance.

Scott and Stiles were speechless.

"And that is why I don't date. It's like playing both sides in a checker match."

"Okay, you are our new best friend." Said Stiles dreamily.

The hair on the back of Mal's neck stood up…there was another predator around. His heart rate picked up with excitement. This was very rare. Looking around, he quickly spotted a leather jacket wearing older teen watching them with a burning gaze.

"Who's Leather Jacket guy?" asked Mal, yawning to show only mild interest.

"Derek Hale." Said the boys together without looking around. They knew him, well. For the first time, it seemed he had competition.