Disclaimer: I don't own Hannibal,The Vampire Diaries, or The Originals. The plot bunny was just too good to ignore. Rather AU.

The Katherine playlist for this will show up soon, as will the Hannibal/Katherine playlist.

The Most Dangerous Game

Chapter Three

February, 2012.

It had begun, ironically, on Valentine's Day at a sports bar. Or rather outside of one, one of those loud, brightly lit homages to Irish pubs that sold cheap beer and shots and reheated potato skins and played three different games on three different big-screen TVs. It was only expected that the rude service manager from the dealership would choose such a place, in Hannibal's eyes; the cheapness of the bar fitted the cheapness of the man's personality and the amount of air wasted keeping him alive.

Hannibal had followed Nathan Avery here twice; he liked to go to this establishment and drink to his heart's content on the evenings before his days off, take a cab home, either alone or accompanied by some equally intoxicated woman, and the next day, once sober, return to fetch his vehicle. This night played out much the same, only the bar was busier with singles avoiding the restaurants and couples wanting to keep the night low-key, and the occasional disappointed girlfriend or wife frowning over her mozzarella sticks and potato skins and wishing she were with another man.

And of course, Hannibal's quarry didn't leave the bar alone. A young woman was with him, a rather petite thing with long, curling hair and a black dress that was way too short on her and heels that were way too high for her, but which she managed with great skill. The man said something, and the woman laughed, tilting her head back. She took his hand and pulled him across the street to the dark alley where Hannibal had parked his car.

"Here—in an alley?" Hannibal heard Nathan slur as the woman pushed him up toward the wall. "Fuck, Kat, you're a nasty girl."

Kat laughed, then stopped abruptly and looked Nathan in the eye intensely. "Stop talking. Now," she ordered.

He complied with a groan, and Kat kissed him. He cradled her head in his hand, and she stepped a bit to the side so that she could kiss his neck. Which she spent quite awhile doing. Between the two of them, their moans and grunts cut through the silence of the night.

Hannibal saw this as his opportunity, and he slowly made his way around the car. Kat lifted her head from Nathan's neck, and it looked as though she were wiping her mouth on his shirt. She didn't even have time to turn around before Hannibal snapped her pretty little neck. Nathan Avery stood there in a stupor, his hands trembling as he took in the sight of the dead woman on the ground in front of him. He raised his eyes to see the face of her killer—and soon, his—in front of him, but before he could manage a word, Hannibal was able to subdue him with a quick blow to the side of his head.

With both bodies in the car, he drove to home where he could butcher both bodies without interruption. It was most unfortunate for the young woman that she was collateral damage, but it was serendipitous for Hannibal, for he would be able to take more meat than he had originally expected.

Of course, his plans for butchering the bodies were foiled, too.

When he opened the trunk of his sleek black Lexus to remove the first of the bodies, he didn't expect the kick to the solar plexus that sent him reeling.

"Snap my neck while I'm feeding, huh?" he heard a woman's voice demand, and he looked up to see the woman named Kat bending over him, her dark eyes glittering with anger. He attempted to get to his feet, but she placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him down on his hands and knees again with more strength than a woman her size should have. "Who the hell do you think you are, killing the guy I'm feeding on before I'm even done?"

He turned his face up to get a good look at the woman, and it was then he realized that though she looked to be quite young, she had the air of someone who was much older and who had seen much in her lifetime. In his mind's eye, he replayed the recent events of the evening. He had snapped her neck, he had killed her. There was no way she should have been able to overtake him, let alone be speaking to him now.

Yet despite the absurdity of the situation, Hannibal Lecter retained control. "It would appear," he said, "that we were hunting the same man. You simply happened to be there, which only meant that you would share his fate."

She inclined her head, a smile playing on her red-glossed lips. "So I was collateral damage, then? Or I was supposed to be?"

He felt her small fingers digging into his shoulder, but he didn't flinch as he reached for her wrist. "You were supposed to be collateral damage. And you will be collateral damage. I'm terribly sorry…"

He tugged her wrist away from his shoulder and the move caught her off balance. She teetered on her heels. Hannibal sprang up and caught her, pinning her to the ground. She writhed underneath him as he removed the zip cuffs from the pocket of his slacks. Her eyes met his, and suddenly her voice seemed sonorous and soothing, like a lullaby.

"You're going to let me go," she said. "You're going to forget you ever saw me. Nathan Avery was alone in the alley, and you didn't kidnap anyone else along with him."

He stared down at her, a frown marring his face. "What makes you think I'm going to let you go?"

Her eyes widened at some realization, and then he saw the change in her face as her irises changed from brown to black, as dark shadows appeared under her eyes, as she curled her upper lip back to reveal fangs. He pulled away in astonishment, even though the rational side of him tried to make sense of it, remembering the tales he had been told as a child and the books he had read as a youth, telling himself that this couldn't possibly be…

She disengaged her wrist from his grip and shoved him away, getting to her feet. He stood up, too, watching her just as she watched him. Predators, both of them, each one sizing the other up, each one waiting for the other to make a move.

Her scent wasn't as strong, but it still lingered in his nostrils. She reeked of death, stale blood, cheap whiskey, and Clinique Happy. Her lips curved into a knowing smirk, and she placed a hand on her hip.

"They warned me about you," she said. "Or about him. They thought it was a rogue vampire. And they were wrong!" She laughed.

"Who warned you about me?" he demanded, taking a step forward. Her eyes narrowed a bit.

"I know what you are. There are vampires who are like you, but I've never met a human one before."

"Vampires who are like me? And what am I?" he asked her softly, watching as she took another step toward him.

"A serial killer." It sounded almost beautiful, the way she said it, and he wondered what it would take to kill her.

"Are you going to go to the police, or to your other vampire friends?" he pursued.

She rolled her eyes, tossing her head a bit. "Why would I do that? It'd be easier just to kill you so my secret stays safe."

"But you haven't killed me yet."

"No, I haven't killed you yet. And I really don't want to. There's a no-kill policy in Baltimore when it comes to feeding on humans, and it'd be way too easy for the vampire head honchos here to find out." She picked her clutch out of the trunk. "What are you going to do with the body?"

"That's my concern."

"You're going to have to dispose of it. I'm a pro at that."

"As am I."

"There's still some blood in him. He's not fully dead, just unconscious."

"Which was how I wanted him. Once I have taken the organs, you can drink him dry. I will trouble myself with the disposal of the body."

A slow smile spread across her face. "So you're the one the vampires are so scared of."

"And whom are they scared of?"

"The Chesapeake Ripper."

Despite the oddness of the circumstances, he was a most gracious host. Once he was done butchering the meat, he let her drink the corpse dry. He had never seen a vampire drink, and it was fascinating watching her sink her fangs into Nathan Avery's wrist and neck and take whatever blood she could, her eyes half-closed and her face languid. He gave her his handkerchief so that she could wipe her mouth.

Once she was done, and once they had gone upstairs to his kitchen, he poured two glasses of Shiraz, offering her one. She raised an eyebrow, but she took the glass anyhow. He felt a little surge of exhilaration when he saw that she held the glass by the stem so as to protect the flavor of the wine. He watched her as she sipped it, and in his mind, her lips caressed the rim of the wine glass as though they were engaged in a kiss.

"I will take you home tomorrow," he offered. "For tonight, you may use one of the guest rooms. My appointments are later in the morning, so it will be no inconvenience for me."

She regarded him cynically, and a slow smile spread across her lips. "You're such a gentleman, aren't you, even though we just tried to kill each other? What about your secret—aren't you concerned that I'll let it drop?"

He smirked at her as he put the meat in his refrigerator. "No, I'm not concerned about it, because then I might let your secret out. After all, you were the one who really killed our friend."

Her dark eyes narrowed. "So it's…"

"Quid pro quo."

"You'll keep my secret if I keep yours? Fair enough, since I can't compel you." She shrugged. "I wonder why that is."

"Don't trouble yourself with it." He stepped toward her, refilling her glass. "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves? My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and you are Kat…"

"Katherine," she interrupted. "Pierce."

"Katherine."

"Hannibal." She took hold of his wrist after he had put the bottle down. "And you're a doctor of what?"

"Psychiatry. But before that, I was a surgeon." He watched as she traced the intricate network of veins on the back of his hand, as she turned his hand over so that his palm faced up. He felt her fingers slowly pass over the soft skin, and then she closed his fingers over his palm. He looked up to see the corners of her lips turned upwards into a smile.

"You have a surgeon's hands. And a surgeon's knowledge." She let go of his hand and wandered to the refrigerator. "Do you eat them, your victims?"

"I cook the organs and I eat them, yes."

"You serve them to other people?"

"Perhaps I do."

"There's no need for you to be all mysterious about it. I'm a vampire. I drink human blood. I've killed people, too. It's a simple question, so just answer it."

"I have answered it."

She turned to face him, and he saw an odd light glittering in her eyes. "It's amazing, in a really twisted way. Would you call yourself a good cook?"

"I've been called a superior cook."

"And you like fine booze." She grinned, sipping her wine again. "You're quite a catch."

"Be careful, Ms. Pierce."

"Be careful of what?"

"I don't tolerate rudeness, particularly out of uninvited guests."

"Then I'll make sure not to be rude." She downed the rest of her wine, putting down the glass. "So where's that room—and do you have something in the way of pajamas for me, Dr. Lecter?"

He provided her with the top of one of his cotton pajama sets. He procured some dental floss, some toothpaste, some mouthwash, a toothbrush, and some soap for her, leaving them neatly on the counter of the guest bathroom.

"If you need anything," he said as he handed her the pajama top, "my bedroom is down the hallway. Please feel free to let me know."

"I will," she said. "Thanks."

She didn't bother him at all that night. She was up early, as was he, and he made her his protein scramble for breakfast. She stared at him, almost laughing.

"Is this people, Dr. Lecter?"

"Pardon me, Ms. Pierce?"

"The sausage. Is it human meat from your victims?"

"Is it?" He set a cup of coffee in front of her, and she crossed one tanned leg over the other and straightened on the stool. In his mind, it was a provocative gesture, as she was still dressed in his pajama top.

She put a forkful of it in her mouth, chewing slowly, and once she had swallowed, she said, "Or maybe it's organic pork from a very skilled butcher?"

"Maybe it is, Ms. Pierce."

"The protein scramble is amazing, though." She inclined her head as she picked up her mug of coffee. "I think I'm starting to like your cooking, Hannibal."

"Thank you, Katherine."

She went upstairs and showered and dressed in last night's clothes. She gave him the directions to the place where she was staying, and once Hannibal saw the motel, his stomach turned. She was ready to get out of the car when he placed his hands on hers.

"This is where you're staying?"

"Yeah." She looked at him as though he were a madman. "I've stayed in worse places."

"There is no need for you to stay in places like this."

"Oh? And where do you think I ought to stay?" she demanded, her dark brows drawing together into a glare.

"I would rather have you stay with me. You could have all of the blood you needed. And as it so happens, I need a receptionist. Perhaps you could fill the position?"

She bit her lip. "Dr. Lecter."

"An hour ago I was Hannibal."

"Hannibal, you're offering too much. I'm trying to keep a low profile, and you…"

"Katherine, if you wished to keep a low profile, you would not be hunting as you were last night. You would not have ended up in the trunk of my vehicle with Nathan Avery. I'm offering you an alternative."

She opened her mouth, then shut it with a quick click of her teeth. "So you'll butcher bodies and I'll get the blood?"

"Not entirely. I have ways of obtaining blood for you."

"That's a lot to give me. What'll you want in return?"

He smirked. "I would only want the pleasure of your company, Katherine. And the chance to refine you, as you need it."

"Okay then, Professor Higgins. Refine away, but let me get my stuff."

Katherine found herself a permanent guest in Hannibal Lecter's house from then on. He let her take over the guest room she had occupied the first night, but within a few months it would grow into something more, and she moved from the guest room into his bedroom.

But when Will Graham entered their lives, that had been the beginning of the end.

November, 2014.

Dinner was tense. Katherine ordered two bottles of Chianti.

With fava beans and liver.

I hate liver, Hannibal.

Dearest Katerina, let me prepare some for you, and you'll love it.

When Alana left the table to take a call regarding one of her patients, that was when Will Graham struck.

"You've got to help us, Katherine," he said, cutting into his lasagna even though he seemed to have no intention of eating it.

"Help you? How? I've been helping all I can," she said before downing another glass of wine.

"Bullshit."

"Fuck you."

"Funny how you won't say that in front of Alana Bloom."

"That's because I like Alana. I don't like you."

"Why not?"

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Because you're a whinebaby."

"I may be a whinebaby, Katherine, but I know what you are."

"Oh?" Katherine said, pouring herself another glass of Chianti.

"What—you think the others in Baltimore didn't know?" Will Graham's hands seemed to shake as he poured himself some more water. "You don't think they came to talk to me after I got out?"

Katherine chewed her manicotti, trying to think of how to respond to Will. "Look, Will, I know what Hannibal did now, and it sucks, but…"

"Cut it out, Katherine. I know what you are."

"Excuse me?"

Will glared at her. "I said, I know what you are. Did you think the other locals would remain silent when it was so obvious you'd been with Hannibal Lecter?"

"So what am I?" she challenged as she saw Alana reenter the restaurant.

"They all came crawling out of the woodwork to tell me, Katherine. You're a vampire."

So Will knows. Oh, Katherine, what did you and Hannibal do that got the Baltimore vampires talking to the FBI?

And should Clarice Starling show up in this? I mean, you know, Mystic Falls is a state away and all…